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King Richard's Man Ch. 01

Note: some historians have suggested that Richard (I) the Lionheart, king of England, duke of Normandy and Aquitaine, count of Anjou and Poitou, was homosexual or bisexual, but nobody knows for sure. This story develops on the idea that he was bisexual.

*****

Normandy, A. D. 1195

Gilles Ville-Neuve dared not resist the two armed guardsmen and their captain, Mercadier, when they came for him as he practiced at the pell. He was armed with a sword and buckler, but he dropped these weapons instantly when he was told he was being taken to see King Richard, whose guest he was in this castle.

Guest. A polite euphemism for hostage.

In Normandy, Richard's proper title was Duke, but he was also king of England and everyone knew him as such.

As Gilles and his escorts entered the castle keep, Gilles wondered what this could all be about, desperately hoping his father hadn't abandoned him. He had been the king's warrantor for the good behaviour of his father, Thierry de Ville-Neuve, for six years. In that time, he had seen the king but a few times, and never in private audience. Gilles stomach lurched at the possibilities. He dreaded the nature of this summons.King Richard

As the squire and his minders ascended the steps from the main hall into the royal chambers above, Gilles considered his rough appearance. Fresh from the practice field, he was hot and sweaty and he feared he was not presentable for his liege lord. There was no helping it. If the king sent men to collect him, he was wanted at once and a king was not to be kept waiting.

The living quarters were spacious and richly appointed. The only light came from a double window on one wall. The room was framed by stone walls covered in painted wall hangings depicting biblical scenes and the lives of saints in vivid colours. There was a bed with bolsters and cushions and embroidered coverings. A massive wardrobe with heavy doors, all garishly painted, would hold the liege lord's unimaginably large collection of fashionable clothing. King Richard's banner of three lions on a field of red hung over a stool occupied by the very man himself.

The guardsmen stood Gilles before the king, but Gilles had sense enough to take a knee before his lord and captor.

Richard Coeur de Lion himself was unmistakeable. Long-limbed, Gilles knew the king stood at six-and-a-half feet, head and shoulders above most men. Currently, he was seated in an x-framed stool ornamented with lion heads and feet. His reddish-blond hair flowed out from under a scarlet cap embroidered in gold. A well-trimmed beard framed the handsome, ruddy countenance. Ice-blue eyes stared at Gilles in shocking contrast to the rose-red tunic blazing over his chest. A mantle decorated with one of his devices, the half-moon and sunburst, repeated in silver, sat on his shoulders. His feet were covered in cloth of gold and he wore golden spurs. His sword was worn on a silver belt, and was likewise sheathed in a silver scabbard.

The monarch had a table at his elbow which was nearly buried in parchments: dispatches from the various sieges Richard was overseeing around Normandy, Anjou and Brittany. Richard was at war with Philippe-Auguste, king of France, who had conquered large portions of the king's heritage while Richard was a prisoner of the Holy Roman Emperor in Germany. Now Richard was free and determined to reverse those losses.

He picked one of the letters up and shook it at Gilles.

"Do you know what this is, boy?" King Richard asked.

"Your grace, I do not."

"It is the seneschal of Normandy's account of your father's response to his demand that he should temporarily relinquish his castle to ducal control for security against the encroachments of the French king."

Gilles' heart sank. He could only imagine. His father would never surrender his patrimony, not even for a temporary security measure. Not even to save his son's life.

Gilles imagined the king drawing that extraordinary sword and using it to personally carve him into chops before barking to Captain Mercadier to have the pieces put in a bag and catapulted over Lord Thierry's castle wall. There were precedents for such cruelty in the world.

"He was reminded that you are in our care as a hostage for his loyalty, but he replied he had the cock and balls to make more sons and better ones than you. And to cap off his disloyalty, he declared that he turned his allegiance now to King Philippe, whom he calls rightful lord of Normandy."

Gilles flushed with fury at his father's cold dismissal. He had five brothers. Gilles always feared his father considered him expendable. He had received word that his mother had died months ago. His brothers would not dare to defy the old man for their youngest sibling. There was nobody to temper his father's obstinacy.

"So, tell us," Richard bellowed. The rage of the Angevin was well-known and much to be feared. "What are we to do with you? What would you do in our place?"

Gilles did not know the king expected an answer from him until Mercadier gave him a hard slap on the back of the head. He reeled from the blow.

"Your grace, let me live and I will be your servant. I will give you the fealty for Ville-Neuve that my father denies you and I will give it to you over his own dead body. But allow me to serve you, and I shall take that castle from him and serve as your castellan against King Philippe, the Devil, and such another neighbour besides."

"You would turn against your father?"

"I would serve my duke and king."

Richard considered this. Gilles had no time to calculate his responses. It was well known that Richard prized loyalty highly, even in an enemy, but it was also a fact that he and his own father had quarrelled deeply both on and off the battlefield. Gilles gambled that the king might sympathize with another rebel son.

"Mercadier," the king said.

Gilles feared the worst. Would the blow come in this pristine chamber or would he be taken to the scaffold to be hanged or beheaded? Mercadier and his mercenaries were just the men for such a job.

"Leave us," King Richard told the mercenary.

Mercadier and the two guardsmen saluted the king and left the chamber. Gilles was stunned. Was the king considering his offer?

"You were raised at Ville-Neuve, yes?"

"Your grace, I know every chamber, every courtyard."

"Knowing the layout of the castle as well as any occupant gives a besieging force no small advantage in the siege." The king gestured for Gilles to rise. "Your answer to our question was brave, but rash too. To pledge your life to a king's personal service can carry a heavy price. Are you sure you are ready for that?"

"My liege, put me to the test."

"Be assured, we will."

Gilles shuddered. King Richard was standing just inches away from him. He could smell the king's wine-sweetened breath. Perhaps the scent lingered in the air between them because the king remembered his courtesy.

"Wine, Ville-Neuve?"

"Your grace honours me." As a lowly squire, not even a knight, Gilles hardly expected to drink with a king. His liege turned back to his table. Beside his correspondence was an ornate pitcher and two goblets, the king's own and another for Gilles.

"Yes, we had a second goblet ready in case you were worth sparing. We--I--hoped we might... talk a while."

"As your grace pleases," Gilles said. "Thank you." He accepted the proffered wine with a shaky hand.

"Relax, Ville-Neuve. Your life is safe in our hands for now."

For now, Gilles thought. Owing to his nervous state, he swallowed the wine in a single draught.

"No," Richard said. "Fear not. You will live to serve us. In what capacity, however, remains to be seen. We cannot send an inexperienced squire to besiege a fortress of Ville-Neuve's stature. You will participate in an advisory capacity, but our mercenary captain will be in general command of the siege. There could be danger to you."

"Yes, your grace."

"Very well. In the meantime, what token of your loyalty can you give us?"

Gilles was stumped. "Your grace, I have only my sword and the clothes I stand in."

King Richard smiled. "Very well, then. Remove your clothes. We would see you as God made you."

Gilles jaw dropped. Since entering the king's chamber, it had been one surprise after the last. Now, this. Was he to be humiliated? He remained stock still.

If the king was irritated by Gilles' disobedience, he gave no outward sign.

"What do you know of siegecraft, Gilles?" It was the first time the king used his Christian name.

"Only what my tutors have instructed. I have no practical experience of it, my liege," Gilles confessed honestly. He had never participated in the investment of a castle and he would hardly try to sell himself as an expert to the man who so famously took the fortress of Taillebourg and the city of Acre.

King Richard approached him. He towered over Gilles. As the king neared him, Gilles took backward steps until he unwittingly tripped and fell on the bed. The empty wine goblet fell out of his hand and clattered on the wooden floor. Richard joined Gilles on the bed, pinning him down with his muscular bulk.

"The first stage of a siege is to surround the object of the siege so no baron, knight, squire, spy, or scout can escape, and no man can come to its relief."

Gilles' struggle against the king was mitigated by his fear of the man's might. If Gilles gave offence or harm to this man, his life would be forfeit. Being so close to the king, body against body, gave Gilles feelings he had never known before. He began to feel a strange tingle below his abdomen which he could not understand.

"When it's established that the besieged cannot escape, one must begin to test the outer defences, to wear them down and strip them away."

The scent of the king was in Gilles' nose. He had recently bathed in rosewater. Gilles felt King Richard's lips at his neck and ears. Gilles was appalled at the fire in his loins. His body was betraying him and he was responding to the king's touch like he would to any woman's.

Gilles was twenty years old. He had tasted of women. He had fucked Emma, a laundress of the castle, and Richeut, the town innkeeper's daughter. Lady Matilda, a young widow lodged in the town had favoured him with a flash of her tits with the promise of more to come.

How did he find himself in bed with a man, and that man, the king of England and his liege overlord of Normandy? He was flattered in his way, of course, but he had heard the Church condemn the actions of homosexuals.

The king's desires in that direction were not widely spoken of, but they were whispered of in the circles in which he hunted. His preference for hard, young men to his queen had been said to be a source of endless conflict between the king and his consort. In the end, a king does as he pleases.

The king kissed him passionately now and Gilles felt his resistance breaking down as the hot breath touched his lips. He opened his mouth and felt the king's tongue enter it. Their tongues struggled in mimicry of sword-play.

King Richard broke the kiss and both men found themselves breathing hard. The king's hands scrabbled to remove Gilles' belt, and when that was achieved, he pulled the young man's tunic up over his head, leaving him bare and sweating from the waist up. He struggled with Gilles' leggings and footwear, eventually yanking them off and exposing Gilles lower body to the open air.

Gilles was painfully aware of his erection and wriggled under the king's scrutiny. Richard continued his lesson in siegecraft.

"When the outer defences are laid waste, one must attack the tower until the besieged are too exhausted to defend it."

King Richard seized Gilles penis in his hand and began to stroke it.

The king's hand was accustomed to holding weapons, and even through his gauntlets, he had developed callouses that made his hand rough. Gilles moaned as his member was massaged by the powerful hand of England's king. He was terribly aroused and already, as was a young man's way, he was close to release.

Sensing this, King Richard stopped jerking the squire off. Only when the most urgent need subsided did the king resume his ministrations.

Gilles was soon overwhelmed and frustrated with the need to come. Every time he was close, the king would stop stroking him off. Gilles spread his legs wide open to give the king access to his ass, hoping this was what King Richard wanted.

"When they stop defending, it is time to batter them into total submission."

The king released Gilles' cock and used both hands to unfastene his belt, dropping it with his sword on the wooden floor. He unclasped his mantle and let it fall where it may. He yanked his tunic over his head and soon it too was on the floor. He abandoned his breeches and shoes. He undressed slowly as Gilles watched, showing no signs of a loss of arousal.

Richard's body was marked with the proof of his reckless courage in battle. There were scars from close combat with Saracens in the Holy Land. They rippled over a torso and shoulders well-developed from a life fighting on horseback with sword and lance. Around Richard's belly was a thin layer of fat, perhaps the first sign that the king's fondness for good living was catching up to him. His thick cock was rampantly erect.

Fully naked, the king fell on Gilles with a will, kissing his body and once more fondling his cock.

"Once the besieged are beleaguered by your attack, they will attempt to negotiate and beg, but you will not relent until the terms are favourable."

"Please, King Richard," Gilles moaned, fully ready to negotiate and beg. "Please make me come. I'll do what you say."

"Sometimes, nothing less than full submission will do. Once the way is clear to the door, it is time to bring the battering ram to the game."

Gilles knew what to expect from that. The king positioned himself between Gilles' legs, which he lifted high for access to the young man's arse. Gilles held on to his legs, keeping his ass open to the king's inspection. The king spat twice, once into Gilles' asshole and once into his own open hand. He rubbed the saliva on his hard cock and began to press his ram against the walls around Gilles' opening.

Gilles squealed with pain at first as the royal cock penetrated him, but he dared not resist. Gradually, he yielded to the king, and inch followed hard inch as the prick entered him. The king groaned with his delight when his fleshy sword was buried to the hilt in his young lover. Gilles groaned too, the pain dissipating in favour of a strange warmth and feeling of fullness he had never known. To his astonishment, what he was feeling was pleasure.

King Richard began sawing in and out of Gilles, slowly at first and then with vigour.

"Oh, yes, your grace. I love the way you ram my ass. I will submit to you, any time you want, anywhere you want. Please let me come."

"You may give yourself release, Gilles." The king spoke between grunts. He fucked Gilles with abandon as the squire frantically jerked off, a task made easier by the lubrication of the pre-cum leaking from his cock-head.

"Oh, your grace, you're making me come!" His cock took little urging to spurt. His orgasm was prolonged and Gilles felt the ripples in his ass overtake the invader cock there. Within seconds, the king groaned in his release, filling Gilles' bowel with his royal seed.

When King Richard was satisfied, he rolled off of Gilles. They were both hot and sweaty. The king lay on his back and pulled Gilles toward him, cuddling him into his side.

"Now that you understand siegecraft, you will be better prepared for the real thing in practical terms."

Gilles thanked his liege for the lesson.

"There is one thing you should understand, Gilles. If you speak of this to anyone, I will see you dead, one way or the other. Remember, your life is mine."

Gilles was not surprised by the warning. He could be relied upon for discretion.

"Now, prepare yourself. You ride to Ville-Neuve at dawn with the forces under Captain Mercadier. I trust you will make yourself useful to him. You're his advisor, but do whatever he says."

Gilles stood and saluted, which felt strange when one was naked. Gilles dressed quickly and left the king to his leisure. The chamber was guarded but if the guardsmen who saw Gilles leave the royal presence suspected any impropriety, they were too discreet to make any gibe.

Gilles skipped down the steps to the main hall, grinning to himself as young men sometimes do after getting laid, in spite of the pain in his ass. His life had changed today. He didn't know what it would bring, nor his immediate future. The siege of Ville-Neuve would be a great challenge, and he must turn his mind to recovering six-year-old memories of the castle's layout and weaknesses. But the king's cock kept intruding itself into his thoughts.

Come what may, Gilles de Ville-Neuve knew he was the king's man. He would follow the Lionheart into Hell if need be. He would deliver Chateau Ville-Neuve into Richard's power if it was the last thing he did.

And he would let the king fuck his ass from now until doomsday.

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