The Minstrel

by Georgie d'Hainaut

31 Jan 2019 1436 readers Score 8.8 (24 votes) PDF Mobi ePub Txt


The year was 1321. The sun rose over the sloping hills and it’s first rays shone over the forest fringe over the fields that were covered with dew. The sun grew ever stronger and burned away the last shrouds of morning fog.

A young man popped out of the forest. He seemed to investigate the fields with his curious, bright eyes. He was slim built, had an even, open face with lively deep-brown eyes and black curly hair that hung to his shoulders. He was dressed in a simple way, as most people were in these days. He wore a roughly woven blouse and his legs were covered with leggings. The hood of his blouse was drawn over his head. It was still a bit chilly this early in the morning. Over his blouse he wore a long coat of the same woven materiel which came to his knees and which hung open.

A lute and a bag with his scarce belongings were slung over his left shoulder, marking him as a musician, a minstrel who traveled from village to village to sing for the villagers about the news in verse form or from castle to castle where he illuminated the parties of the nobility with sweet love songs and heroic verses. In that way he was able to scrape a living together by earning some food here and some money there, only to travel on soon to try his luck in other places.


He had rose at first dawn that morning of his bed of pine-needles in the middle of the woods, had cleaned his coat who was also functioning as his blanket and started walking. While walking he ate his last piece of bread, just to have something in his stomach. He wanted to search for a better meal when he found a village or a castle. But since he had arrived in an area totally unknown to him he didn’t have the faintest idea when that might be.

In a sense he was an exception in these dark times. He was born as the son of a serf and, just like his parents, was destined to spend his life in bitter poverty before dying at early age. But by sheer luck he was gifted with a crystal-clear, almost angel-like voice, something that hadn’t gone unnoticed with the monks of the nearby abbey. So he was more or less forced to become a monk as well in that abbey, with the sole purpose of using his talent in glorification of the universal Creator.

It were hard times. He had to raise very early every morning for the matins and was late in bed every night because he had to sing in the vespers with some masses in between during the day. In the remaining time the monks taught him to write and read and everything about singing and musical arts. By doing this they enabled him to make his own choices and decide on his own future, something that his parents and millions of others were not allowed to do.

But after some years he found live in the monastery boring. The daily grind of prayers and masses, of studying and learning wasn’t appealing to him any longer. Only exception were the nightly visits that father Ambrose, the leader of the choir, made to his cell where the old man introduced him quiet early to the fleshly pleasures of the love between men. It didn’t seem to bother the elder man that the clergy was supposed to refrain from this. Apparently this vow wasn’t valid in the relationship between choir leader and choir boy.

But the young novice wanted more, he wanted to reconnoiter the world. So he changed his monk’s frock for some peasant’s garb, packed his few belongings in a bag and hung his monastry name of Innocentius to the proverbial nail and adopted the name Sean Fogwood. In the death of night he slipped out of the monastery and started walking into the big, unknown world.

The first weeks were difficult. He had to make a lot of distance from the monastery with his two feet. And he had to get rid of his typical monk hair-dress by allowing his own black hair to grow again.



But the years had passed and he had gotten used to the live as a travelling minstrel. He was able to earn a living in this way but he was under no illusion that he might get wealthy with it. But what was wealth? Gold? An own shire? No, his wealth was his freedom, to make his own decisions, to go where he wanted to go and not having to live as a serf by the mercy of a nobleman or as a monk, toiling his live away with praying and working.

And so now he had ended up here. But where was here? He had no clue to where he actually was, being in previously undisclosed lands. He had to wait for a long time before he was able to find out. Because only after a number of hours of stiff walking he saw a crofter who tried to break rock hard ground with a hatchet.

“Goodmorning to you, good man”, he started his conversation.

The man stopped working and rested with his hands on the hold of his tool. He look at the young man with suspicious eyes, because in the Middle Ages the sudden appearance of a stranger mostly meant bad news. But after a look at the lute it seemed as if he decided that a minstrel didn’t pose any direct danger to him and he relaxed somewhat.

Sean studied the man. He wore a same kind of tunic as he wore himself but the man’s was torn and incredibly filthy. Long grey strings of dirty hair hung around his face. A growling sound came out of his mouth, meant as a greeting.

“Can you tell me where I am?”, Sean asked.

After another grunt the man replied:

“You are in Dunross-shire, my lord”

“Never heard of before!” it went through Sean’s head.

“And is there some village round here where I can entertain the people with songs? Or a castle where the lord has a banquet soon?”

The man looked at him. His mouth, almost devoid of teeth, split in a wide grin.

“You are a lucky man, young lord. The count is giving one of his banquets in a few days. But…looking at your appearance, I’m not really sure if it is safe for you to go there. Ah well, you know how it goes: the count gives a banquet and we are paying for it!”

Sean looked at him questioningly but the man saw no need to give him any further information on the subject. But he was willing to tell him where he could find the count’s castle.

Sean said his goodbyes and started walking again in the given direction, filled with high hopes.


He was lucky!! After some selling efforts of his singing capacities the house-steward decided that it might be a good idea to enlighten the coming banquet with some singing. He was assigned a small room and was told that he could eat in the kitchen. And on top of that he was paid ten pennies for his services.

He went to his assigned room, finding it nothing special. It had a rough wooden table, an equally rough chair and a ramshackle plank bed. But it would do for the short span of time he was planning to stay. He sat down on the bed, took his lute and started to rehearse his songs, which he should know to perfection the night of the actual banquet.


The evening of the banquet came. Sean took the appointed place on the balcony, high above the courtroom, from where he would do his singing. He looked around. Servants were scurrying around, putting big damping dishes with food on the table and carrying mugs of wine and beer. It promised to be a small banquet because only one table was made ready. Behind it a large fireplace roared, spreading a comfortable warmth through the courtroom, while chandeliers spread a flickering light along the stone walls. The fact that it was a small banquet was no concern of his: he planned to leave the day after and he had his money.

The guests started coming in and took up their places behind the table. There was something peculiar to this group of guests, Sean noticed. All were male! Oh yes, nobility of course, no doubt about that, but there was not a single lady in the whole group.

The buzz increased when the guests started chatting among themselves. Sean was too far away to hear something about what was being discussed but he wasn’t really interested in what the nobles talked about during the banquet.

From the corner of his eye he notice the house-steward entering, dressed up in his ceremonial dress and holding the stick of his dignity. The man gazed through the hall, gave three hard bangs on the floor with his stick and announced in a loud solemn voice:

“Hugo, Count of Dunross-shire!”

Behind him the count appeared, a small man, dressed in a tunic that was a lot more expensive than Sean’s tunic. From a distance it seemed a kind of crimson in the flickering light, beautifully decorated with a gold-coloured embroidery. But no matter how beautiful his dress might be, Sean had an immediate disgust for the man himself. He pushed his small body towards the table on short, bent legs, a hump clearly protruded through the fabric of the tunic and his head seem the head of a toad. He was completely bald and as far as visible from the distance he had small, mean eyes. But being total convinced of his own divine importance he strode to his chair at the head of the table. Only after he was seated the conversation picked up again. The house-steward gave Sean a sign that he had to start singing so he commenced with a beautiful epic song about William the Conqueror.

While Sean sang the buzzing went louder and louder. There was roaring laughter, vicious and loud swearing and the wine was swallowed by the mug. Nobody listened to him, but he was used to that. On most feasts the minstrel was only used as some kind of musical decoration, only meant to impress the guests about the fact that their host was that wealthy that he could afford a minstrel in the first place.


Only after a while the atmosphere in the room changed and Sean considered the banquet more and more peculiar. The food was consumed, new wine was brought in and the servants withdrew, or maybe better…they totally vanished!

The house-steward entered the room again, but this time he was accompanied by eight gorgeous boys, all manacled with chains around wrists and ankles and a steel collar around their neck and only dressed with a small loin cloth, a small piece of cloth front and another over their buttocks, held together with a simple piece of rope. Without orders the boys positioned themselves behind the chairs of guest and host from where they were looked over approvingly by hungry eyes. So now and then a new roar of laughter was heard.

Suddenly Sean knew what the farmer had meant with his not being safe. And he was hit as by lightning by the realization that he might have been one of them if he had stayed what he originally was, just the son of a serf, looked over, approved, abducted and abused by some deranged lord without being able to do anything about it.


With the servants gone and just the nobles and the boys remaining in the hall it seemed as if everybody had forgotten about him. So he decided to stop singing and stay, just to observe the going on’s below him.

All eight boys were absolute beauties with perfect bodies as they stood there almost naked. Sean felt a vague arousing in his own loin. But the boy behind the count’s seat was the absolute recreation of an angel right out of heaven, who stole his heart. It was a slim boy with a perfectly proportioned body. His long blond hair hung over his shoulders, reaching his upper arms. The most striking feature about him was his white, almost translucent skin with the color of alabaster. He stood submissively behind the count with his eyes closed as if he had cut off his consciousness from what was going on around him.

Although Sean couldn’t hear what was said he saw the count saying something with a wide gesture of his arm. It resulted in a hot-blooded, almost horny giggling among the guests and he saw how one of them simply pulled the boy behind him to his front, pulled down the loin cloth and put him naked on his lap. Very soon Sean saw how the man’s hands grabbed the boy everywhere they could grab, over and between his buttocks, over belly and chest, his hips and on a place in front which Sean was unable to see due to his high position on the gallery.

Another guest partly turned around, stroked briefly over the front cloth of the boy behind him and then shamelessly grabbed under the cloth. Because the light of the chandeliers fell directly on his face Sean could clearly see with disgust how the slaver trickled from the corners of the man’s mouth.

The count with the toad head looked at all the proceedings around him with a mean grin on his face. Again he spoke and everybody stopped with what they were doing at the time. Without a word but only with a gesture the boy with the alabaster skin was directed in front of the table, clear to be seen for everyone. A second gesture commanded him to drop his loin cloth which he did without hesitation. He stood there naked, just being breathtakingly beautiful in the irregularly flickering light.

A third gesture directed a second, almost equally beautiful boy in front of the table. The second boy dropped on his knees in front of the slim boy and without any hesitation took his penis in his mouth.

Sean felt how his own horniness rose. He knew how it felt. Father Ambrose had done it often to him when he wanted to savour his young, seething white gold, ending always with the smacking of his lips after he had swallowed it as if he had drunk a good beer.

It didn’t take long before Sean saw the slim boy contract his muscles, emptying his balls with a deep sigh in the other boy’s mouth. After which they simply changed roles. The loin cloth of the second boy went off as well, the slim boy fell to his knees and the whole spectacle repeated itself in the other direction. Sean saw several guests lowering their hands under the table while others just watched the whole show with drooling mouths and bulging eyes.

All of a sudden it looked as if the feast was over. Both guests and boys disappeared to…yeah, where to? Probably to a place where the guests could do what they lusted to do with one or more of these boys. The count disappeared as well, reeling and clearly dead drunk from all the wine and the servants returned to clear the mess up.

With everybody gone Sean considered his job done as well and he left the gallery for his room.


He had just laid himself down on the bed and was trying very hard to fall asleep. The images of the evening before haunted through his mind. Especially the memory of how the slim, alabaster boy looked naked and the way he was sucked empty by the other boy made his own dick grow to extraordinary proportions, wishing deep in his heart he would have been this other boy. He decided to do something about it himself because if not he might as well forget about sleep. And he still wanted to leave this strange castle and walk on so rest was necessary.

His fingertips had just started to slip over his damp dickhead when somebody knocked at the door.

“Yes..”, he answered irritated, “Who is there?”

“Your servant, my lord”, the reply came from the outside.

“Your servant?” he murmured annoyed, “Since when do I have a servant?”

He made up his mind to find out who that servant might be, so he rose and just as he walked to the door he realized that he was naked. In a hurry he took his coat and wrapped it around his middle. Then he opened the door, ending totally flabbergasted: in front of him stood the slim boy with the alabaster skin, this time dressed in a red velvet tunic that showed his light complexion even better.

Sean was utterly surprised, not knowing what to say. The boy solved the awkward silence by asking:

“I beg your pardon for disturbing you, my lord. May I come in?”

Sean just nodded and let him in.

After the door was closed again the boy pressed himself against Sean’s body without much explanations or excuses.

“I saw you standing on the gallery, my lord”, he whispered, “I think you are so beautiful. And besides, I feel a little jealous about you.”

“Why jealous?”, Sean asked even more astonished as he already was before.

“You are free, my lord. You are the only one who decides about his own faith and destiny. I am just a serf, a slave!”

An uncertain smile shrouded Sean’s face. Was he really that free as the boy imagined? Yes, he had drawn the lucky straw by sheer good fortune and had avoided the fate of serfdom, the fate of total poverty, of complying with the moods and wishes of some owner, uncertainty over existence. But was he as free as the birds in the sky or the deers in the forests?

“My Lord, you can do with me whatever you please. But you will have to promise me that you will take me away from this dreadful place and I will serve you very faithfully”.

“What is your name, boy?”, Sean asked.

“My name is Fergus, my lord”.

“Fine, Fergus. To start with: I don’t need or want a servant. In my opinion nobody is the servant of another man, although this toadhead of a count seems to have different thoughts about that. Nobody deserves it to be the property of some idiot, who did nothing to gain this right, only inherit it. We are all human beings, at least that is what the Holy Scriptures say.”

A tired smile was visible on Fergus’s face.

He was still pressed tightly against Sean and the last one felt how a hand stroked the naked thigh of his leg and slowly moving to the inner side to end up against his totally aroused sword.

“Mmmmmmmm”, a soft moan escaped from the boy’s mouth.

Slowly the boy’s fingertips searched for the dripping tip, found it and caressed it sensually.

Sean had no alternative than to let the coat slip from his middle and to press the boy against his naked body. He slowly started to undress Fergus until he was naked as well.

Sean took his hand and led him to the bed, where he gently pushed the boy on his back and laid down beside him. Then he started to caress the lovely inviting lance with his lips, but gradually he started to suck it gently, then vigorously. Moaning and groaning arouse from the boy’s chest and mouth and it didn’t take long before he contracted again and sprayed the remaining contents of his balls in Sean’s desiring mouth, this time not because some lord ordered him to do so, but because he truly wanted it. Sean tasted the salty fluids and enjoyed them intensely. Now he finally understood what father Ambrose was longing for and what he actually had tasted.

After the boy regained his breath Sean turned him over on his belly. He laid himself on top of him, enjoying the warmth arising from the white skin, and guided his totally wet head between the boy’s buttocks, finally ending at the greatest sanctuary the slim body could offer him. Yes, it was out of desire and lust, but not out of ownership.

Slowly he slid into the boy who was incredibly tight. Sean noticed each and every small muscle tremble through the skin of his member that was really nearing explosion. It felt like being in heaven. Another memory popped up. Again the understanding rose why father Ambrose always wanted to end in this way. Yes, it was a feeling one might get addicted to.

It didn’t take long before Sean ejaculated his white lava in the boy’s intestines. He almost roared while doing it but he realized in due time that that wasn’t the wisest idea to do in the totally silent castle. So he had took his pleasure and joy in silence. But silent pleasure can also be enchanting.

They laid against one another for some time, kissing and cuddling.

All of a sudden Fergus rose and with a frightened look on his face exclaimed:

“We have to get out of here!”

“Why is that?”, Sean asked startled.

“If the count finds out what has happened here he will let us both die at the stake!!”

“For what?”, Sean sneered, “for sodomy? From what I have seen last night it seems that their lordships have nothing against sodomy!”

Fergus just shook his head.

“What then?”, Sean insisted.

“He will use the sodomy as an excuse to cover this kind pf parties up. The real reason for killing us will be jealousy.”

Sean looked at him, not understanding what the boy wanted to say. Fergus put his eyes down in shame and only whispered:

“I am his favorite toy in bed.”

Now things were totally clear for Sean. Somehow he had fallen in love with the mysterious slim boy with the alabaster skin and the idea of taking him along had attracted him. Now he was certain, but for other reasons as well.

“Good, then we will leave! But how do we get out of here? I assume that the main gate is closed and under guard.”

With a big smile on his face and sparkling eyes Fergus said:

“Yes. But I know a secret exit!”

“I hope you have other clothes as well. You look quiet conspicuous in this red tunic.”

The boy nodded, dressed and left the room. In a short span of time he returned with a bag with some small belongings and wearing a tunic that might have been worn by any peasant.

Sean packed his own things and took the lute that went over his shoulder.

With Fergus leading they walked through the dark and silent castle until they reached the secret exit. Both startled when they saw a guardsman there as well and for a short moment their courage and hopes sank to an absolute minimum.

But it was not necessary. True to the axiom “My lord a feast, me myself a feast too!” the man was not guarding the exit, but was sleeping off his drunkenness with loud snoring. Silent as a cat on the bird hunt the two boys tripped past the man, carefully avoiding to wake him up and disappeared in a dark and damp corridor. Only to exit again in some clumps of brushes outside the castle just as the first morning grey came up.

In the semi-dark light they started walking towards the rim of the forests. Soon their silhouettes were surrounded by the shrouds of morning mist, only to vanish in the still dark forest and the cold and grey fog.

Nobody in Dunross-shire ever saw them again. It was as if both had dissolved into one of the billions of small drops of mist that covered the woods.

by Georgie d'Hainaut

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