Got going on it, yesterday, and kept at it till after midnight. This is the first pass on the first 7 pages:
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Well, not around him, per se; my village was closest to his joint, and it was not of a mind to allow such a thing. We had enough to go around and, unlike the church and so many other monasteries and such, we did not hoard it. That was thanks to my father and mother, both of whom were revered for having been part of the Norman conquest of England and built this village from nothing.
For Normans only, of course. No Saxons allowed. One can't be too absolute about treating humanity with decency and respect, despite what Jesus intended. I was long of the mind this was a fine way to do things; I have since removed such nonsense from my trains of thought.
Prior Pious was a Pater, then, but of the right bloodline, from what all could tell. Perhaps a third cousin to Bishop Odo, who held plenty of power in this provence of England. So the previous prior was replaced...and I know this is alliteration, but it is my story so be quiet. I will tell it as I choose.
Anyway...Pater Pious, soon to be Prior, was of the type who liked to pounce on anything female he happened to spy...with rumors that also included more than a few males. Very Catholic in his tastes. Of course, that meant women popping out brats, left and right, that he didn't want to deal with. So once positioned as Prior, he proceeded to place the pathetic few who survived past puberty to other Priests, Priors, Paters and Princes, be they boy or girl, and were never heard from, again. Not that anyone cared; as often as not the mother had died giving birth, and the survivors were so shamed by their situation they had also disappeared. A sort of brutal form of population control, but effective.
Then suddenly the birthing of bastards stopped. Completely. Pater Pious was now Prior, and this is when gossip began about his preference for young men as partners in his bed. Given credence by him now having several youthful monks placed under him...in every meaning of the term, most likely. It did not help that they were never seen in the village, not even during market day. They were barely glimpsed while tending the fields around the monastery, dressed in their robes, even on the warmest of days, their hoods covering their heads as if they were hiding. As it turned out, they were.
Now I mention all of this, despite it being my story, because it was important and, at this time, I was not.
Yet.
Yes, my father was burgher of the village and dealt with the king's men, whenever they deigned make an appearance. And my mother was much-respected for her assistance with King William's canteen during the Battle of Hastings, making certain the troops were fed, watered and cared for at the same level as the horses which, if you know anything about the Middle ages were far more important than a mere lance-man or even an archer. That many of those who settled our land had a story about her making certain their son or father or husband or brother was fed or cared for made her reputation inviolable.
Adding to this, both of my sisters were working on a tapestry for Bishop Odo that was to commemorate the victory at Hastings, and was considered to be of oh-so-very-great importance, while my older brother was in the king's court, though in what capacity I never really did know. They didn't talk to me, nor I them...mainly because I did not know how to contact them, and they never came home. Just letters sent by courier that were read by father.
Very classy.
All three took their appearance more from him, dark of hair and eyes the color of the sky. Also trim and well-formed, like he, so they were considered quite attractive by everyone who had known them. I, however, favored our mother, whose hair was once the color of straw, whose eyes mimicked the color of grass, and who was sturdy and strong. I also wound up taller than most men, able to look any horse in the eye, and well-formed with solid muscle and sturdy legs, weighing just over twelve stone. Like hers, my face was sculpted with a clean chin, fine cheekbones, strong nose in good proportion to my head, and lips a bit on the pouting side, giving me either a sad or a scowling expression, according to those who have been brave enough to mention it. I had more hair than she on my body, though not by much, and people constantly referred to me as cute. Never handsome like my father and siblings. Never attractive. Just adorable. Like a kitten.
People can be so ridiculous.
Of course, my family being well-connected, well-thought-of and well-monied, for the time, and as I was birthed close to the end of when my mother would bring new babies into the world, I was positioned in the category of afterthought. The important roles in the family had already been taken. So I was not even worthy of learning to read and write, my destiny being to learn my father's trade as carpenter. Which I did not mind. I enjoyed working with wood and took great pleasure at building a stool, and later a table. I needed neither words nor numbers for that.
It's hard to believe I was once so simple and easy to please.
What's even better about being an afterthought is, I was also allowed a great deal of freedom and quickly made the nearby forest my second home. The trees were of solid girth and thick as they wandered up and over hilltops, between which ran a fast brook of clear cold water that filled ponds made by the neatly-constructed dams of beavers. Ferns and ivy covered the few glens, and creatures of every kind lived there. If any of my friends wished to find me, once my chores and work were done, they knew to seek me there.
And it was there I learned all of the young monks with Prior Pious, without question, were male.
Quite by accident. I swear.
It is true that on many occasions I had heard voices drifting through the woods, indistinct but seeming to be happy, and had often tried to find where they came from. But the moment I drew close to their source, they would vanish, like fairies in the evening mist. And I would not have been surprised to find they were.
But finally, near the end of my seventeenth summer, I was seated at the base of a tree near one of the ponds at a time when shade crossed all of the glen. I had finished bringing down another tree with the intention of building yet another table and couple pairs of clogs, so was having a late meal of cheese and bread, with some ale in a skin. I was near a pond surrounded by thick ferns and on a bed of ivy, where I need not think of anything or dream of anything. And it was there I saw them appear, across the pond.
Six of them, all in their robes with their hoods back, revealing their unshaved heads. Chuckling in whispers, jostling each other like the best of friends.
I froze, for I had not heard them approach, and remained as still as I could. I noticed all were but a few years older than myself, and all were remarkably handsome. Each in his own way. Two had the same hair as I, perhaps lighter in shade, but one's face carried the nonstop appearance of laughter, with a pert nose and dancing eyes, while the other had a longer face, nose like royalty and eyes almost sad. The other four were varying shades of the earth or bark on the trees, with faces that were of a slightly darker tone and ranged from round and joyous to sharply-angled and hard, even when smiling.
Then they yanked off their robes to reveal they wore nothing underneath, not even loincloths, and their bodies were all taut and strong and well-formed in ways I found breathtaking.
I will note, by this age I had figured out I was not destined to be wed and bring my parents grandchildren. Running with my male friends, casting sticks, pretending battle with them, wrestling in the glens, splashing about in the streams and ponds, unclothed, these had been my preferred enjoyments. Far more fulfilling than jostling any of the maids of our village, much to the consternation of many, who thought me...well...odd. And looking at these six men convinced me I would, first of all, not change and second of all, there was nothing odd about that. Not to me.
They were not exactly alike, merely close in the sense of them all being young and in top form. The first one with yellow hair was built like he could be my brother, right to the point where he had golden down on his chest and belly and legs. The other one was taller, smoother, had broad shoulders, trim hips and legs that sloped in a smooth line down to elegant feet. The darker ones ranged from round and full...not portly, not fat, not sloppy, but well-proportioned, with little extra weight, who was also laid over with smooth featherings of hair that was almost combed into perfection...to one built solid and powerful, like a knight should be, and almost hairless. The other two ranged in between, also devoid of any fat or un-shapeliness, but in fine proportion, and both with sufficient hair to accentuate their form.
As for what was between their legs, those lances ranged from nicely-sized to oh, my God, I am jealous of not only that but their buttocks being so well-shaped and...and...
Oh, hold on, now. I'm growing lost in what I have to tell while trying to remember the names of things from back then.
Which is silly.
From this point on, I will use only modern jargon for what I saw. It makes for ease in telling the story and is so much better in its descriptive abilities. I had forgotten how coy we used to be with references to genitals.
So...two blonds and four brunets, all gorgeous, looking like something out of a modern pornography shoot. Though I had no idea what that was, way back then.
I swear.
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