The New Page Boy

The New Page Boy

Monday 16 May 2011

Chapter 17 - The Erotic Book



17. The Erotic Book

            “Boy! Attend on me and the prince…”
            Will hurried over to the Steward’s side and followed at a respectful distance as the new arrivals made their way through the corridors of the castle.
Alexander’s mind was working quickly. He would have to play this situation very carefully indeed. Prince Felix had a tricky reputation, to say the least, and was used to getting his way in all things.
            “This way, your highness. We shall be honoured to receive you in Lord Geoffrey’s own private apartments – the finest and most opulent in the castle.”
            “I should expect no less,” murmured the prince.
            Alexander nodded to the page boy, who opened the door to Lord Geoffrey’s richly upholstered study, and allowed his visitors to enter the room. The prince went first, closely followed by his hulking bodyguards. Alexander came in behind them, and nodded to the page to close the door.
            Felix glanced around at the rich Persian tapestries that adorned the stone walls. “Adequate,” he said, tersely.
            He strode over to a large leather armchair and sank into its comfortable plushness, stretching his arms and legs like a self-satisfied cat. The gigantic bodyguards took up protective positions either side of their prince, as Will waited respectfully by the door. Alexander smiled at his royal guest.
            Ye gods, but the youth was beautiful, he thought to himself. His handsome head flung back, so that the shape of his pale neck lay there, just ready to be nibbled and kissed. The lithe torso, the bulge at his groin, and those impossibly shapely legs, all encased in the superb lavender hose were all enough to drive him into a frenzy of lust. Already Alexander’s mind began to wander to wicked thoughts of precisely what he would do to the young buck should he ever be fortunate enough to have him at his mercy.
            “Remove my boots!” ordered Prince Felix imperiously.
            Alexander nodded at Will to do as the prince commanded, and Will hesitantly took a step forward to approach the royal dignitary.
            “Not him. I want you to do it.” Felix gestured disdainfully at Alexander, the merest hint of a smile playing around his full lips.
            Alexander watched Will hesitate. Whom would the boy obey? Ah, thought the Steward. So this is the way it is to be, is it? He gritted his teeth, inwardly fuming at the humiliation he had been dealt in front of the lowliest junior page – a boy whom he took expert delight in using and abusing. But Alexander had not risen to the post of Lord Geoffrey’s most trusted adviser without knowing when to fight and when to concede. For now, the prince held the upper hand.
            “Of course, your highness. It would be an honour.”
            Alexander knelt before the young man as Felix raised his brown leather riding boot in the air. Grasping the top of the boot, he allowed his hand to brush against the taut muscles of the prince’s thigh, strong and lissom in his sensuous hosiery. God, he felt good, he thought.
            One tug. Then another. And the boot came free. Felix grunted in satisfaction as he wiggled his toes in their tights. “And now the other one, Master Steward…”
            The same ritual, and the other boot was also off. The prince sank his perfect, hosed feet into the thick red carpet. Then he swang one leg around and slung it casually over the arm of the chair, leaving his foot dangling, and his legs spread apart. His crotch bulged delightfully in his tights, and he sat there for a moment, allowing Alexander to drink in his masculine beauty.
            Alexander rose to his feet, depositing the two sweaty leather riding boots to one side, and bowing low as he withdrew from the sacred presence of royalty.
            The prince took one of his fine, bejewelled hands and ran it casually through his golden locks. “Now, I suppose you want an explanation of how I came to this God-forsaken hole of a castle.”
            Alexander remained silent.
            “I am here at the entreaty of my father the King. As you know, he has embarked on a righteous campaign against the heathen foe. The royal palace is full of those who would wish my father ill, and as I am his most precious and beloved possession he wanted to ensure my safety in his absence. For this reason, he has despatched me here, to the home of his most loyal servant, my godfather and your master, Lord Geoffrey de Montford. And I am to stay here as your guest until my father has returned triumphant from his military quest.
            “These are my bodyguards – the bearded brute is named Ulfgar and the shaven headed ogre is Odin. They are of Viking origin and are to be shown the utmost courtesy and to be obeyed in all things. As of course, am I.
            “Now I imagine I shall be making some changes around this place. After all, a little backwater such as this can hardly be expected to keep up with what is going on in more civilised climes. But if you are loyal and hard-working, you will find I can be a kindly master. However, if I become displeased, my anger will know no bounds. So consider yourselves warned. Do I make myself clear?”
            “As crystal, your highness,” purred Alexander. “And I feel sure that, despite our, as you say, humble surroundings, you will find the castle a comfortable and welcoming home for the duration of your stay here.”
            Prince Felix’s expression was disdainful and unconvinced. “Well, we shall see. But for now I need to bathe. How l long to be rid of the stink of horses…”
           
            “Little backwater, he said, did he? What a nerve!”
            “Yes,” Will nodded to the cook. “I’ve never heard anyone speak to Master Alexander like that. And he made him pull his boots off too! I don’t think Alexander liked it.”
            “I’m sure he didn’t,” replied Olwen. “I don’t like the sound of this at all.”
            “What do you know of the prince?’
            The woman’s voice dropped to a whisper. “As you know, lad, I’m not one to gossip, but I hear he’s utterly spoiled. His mother died when he was an infant and he’s the king’s only heir. His father dotes on him and he’s never been criticised or corrected in his life. He’s never done a day’s work and he lounges around, believing he’s better than anyone else in the world.”
            “Oh…”
            “And I bet you any money he’s fussy about what he eats as well…”

            Alexander quickly realised that the spoiled young Prince would be looking for any excuse to criticise the reception he was receiving at the castle. And he was seriously under-staffed for a royal visitor. Only three pages had escaped conscription into the royal army.
The first, Mortimer, Alexander considered cute in a Puckish way: his red hair, freckles and upturned nose would certainly appeal to some, and his legs encased a uniform of orange tights were shapely, if slim. It had been his height (or rather lack of it) that had meant he had been left behind when the majority of the castle’s menfolk left on their expedition.
Next was a plump boy named Humphrey. Humphrey was a cry baby, and had sniffled and sobbed himself to sleep for a good six weeks after being parted from his mother. The principal source of entertainment that he gave Alexander was that he was incredibly self-conscious about his ample bottom, which was displayed in all its bouncy glory in his shimmering green hose.
Finally there was Alexander’s secret favourite: the sexy young slutboy, Will. He’d ensured that the blond young stud was going nowhere near the war zone. He wanted his latest little tights slut nearby and available at all times…

            Nothing was good enough for Prince Felix, complained Mistress Olwen to anyone who would listen. Whole dishes had to be thrown away because he had changed his mind over the menu, and he complained bitterly that there were no deer to hunt in the forest. He was becoming bored. And a bored Prince, as Alexander well knew, was a dangerous prince. This fact was brought home to him very clearly one morning about a week after the royal party had descended on de Montford Castle.
            Alexander received a summons from the Prince’s bodyguard to attend him in his chambers. With a sigh of annoyance, the Steward laid aside the paperwork that had been occupying him, and, gathering up his black velvet cloak around his slim, muscular form, he made his way to the Prince.
            He paused outside the grand oak doors of what used to be Lord Geoffrey’s private chambers, and which naturally enough had been requisitioned by his royal godson, and then knocked.
            The heavy door swang open, and Ulfgar – the Prince’s bearded servant – acknowledged him with a grunt.
            Prince Felix looked more beautiful than ever. His golden locks tumbled to his shoulders and he wore a thickly brocaded red velvet dressing gown. The gown gaped open and Alexander could see that the Prince was bare chested beneath: his pectoral muscles defined, his nipples pink and round and his stomach firm and flat. His hose was as scarlet as the gown, with golden embroidery around its waist, and it encased Felix’s muscular legs and bulging groin with indecent sensuality.
            “Steward,” he said, shortly, and his full lips curled in a sneer. “What took you so long?”
            Alexander merely smiled patiently. He knew better than to respond to the provocation.
            “We’ve ridden out every day in search of sport and there’s nothing. Absolutely nothing. No livestock. No deer. No foxes. The tedium is driving me mad.”
            Prince Felix clicked his fingers, and Odin – his other servant – appeared carrying a large leather bound book.
            Alexander’s composure slipped a little. The tome looked horribly familiar.
            “So, I ordered Odin here to see if he could provide me with some other form of entertainment. And look at what he found – on your own bookshelf, Master Steward!”
            The Prince smirked at Alexander’s growing discomfort. “I was quite at a loss when I began to read it. It seems to be some kind of a story, but the subject matter is unlike any I have come across before.”
            Alexander smiled smoothly, recovering his wits. “There are many books in my library, your Highness. Many of which I inherited from the previous Steward. My duties to Lord Geoffrey leave precious time for reading and I confess I do not recognise this particularly book. If however, its subject matter offends you in any way, I will have it removed immediately.”
            He leant forward to take the incriminating volume.
            “Oh I’m not offended, Alexander,” replied the Prince. “Merely intrigued. And if you have not already done so, perhaps you should read some of it.”
            “If my Lord wishes it.”
            “Oh I do. And I’ve decided that in lieu of any other form of amusement, I should like to hear you read it aloud for me.”
            Alexander hesitated. The Prince was notoriously priggish. Rumours abounded that he had never had sex with anyone, either male or female: not due to any kind of religious morality, but rather because he genuinely believed that no other human being could compare to him physically or deserved to be allowed to touch his royal cock. Nevertheless, the story was one of the most erotic and depraved in Alexander’s library. Was this all an elaborate trap to disgrace him in the eyes of the King?
            “You’ve been given a royal command,” growled Odin. “Prince Felix wants to be entertained.”
            “Of course. If his highness is sure…”
            “Oh I’m quite sure,” the Prince said. “I’ve even marked a place for you to begin…”
            Odin handed the erotic book to Alexander.
            “I believe the chapter is entitled ‘Seduction of a Prince’”…
            Alexander knew exactly what the chapter contained. He had masturbated many times over the contents imagining himself in the role of the Prince’s wicked uncle. He did not know precisely what Felix intended, but Alexander had a very bad feeling about it.
            He cleared his throat and began to read aloud.

            “ ‘ “Come here, nephew, and sit beside your favourite uncle.”
            The handsome young Prince did so, his big brown eyes wide and innocent.
            “Yes, uncle.”
            His uncle had achieved his wish and had got the young heir to the throne all to himself. The bodyguards had been dismissed. After all –surely they could trust the young prince with his own flesh and blood, couldn’t they? His royal uncle smiled grimly to himself. The lad was distractingly pretty – eighteen years old, short and slim, with a fine silver doublet and pale blue hose that encased his lissom legs.
            His uncle was not much taller than the prince, but he was broad and stocky: coarse black hair sprouted from chest, and his eyebrows were low and thick. By contrast, his legs were thick and muscular, encased in shiny, silken black tights. He felt an illicit thrill as his unsuspecting nephew sat beside him on the cushioned divan, and the crown prince’s blue thigh nestled against his own muscular leg. The uncle felt the heat of the youngster’s limb and rested his large, bejewelled hand on the boy’s knee.
            “I propose a toast!” he declared. “To you, nephew! May you have a long life and many years as king. I hope you will always find me a true and loyal subject!”
            He poured a generous amount of claret into a silver goblet and handed it to the prince. As he did so, his hand slid surreptitiously from the boy’s knee, up the leg to rest on the lad’s stockinged thigh.
            “I am unused to wine, uncle,” giggled the prince.
            “Then, lad, it is time you learned to drink.”
            “Are you drinking, uncle?”
            “All in good time. I want to see you drain that goblet first.”
            The prince took a deep breath and, as he tipped his head backwards, his uncle’s hairy hand slid yet further up his leg until it cupped the boy’s bulge.
            “Uncle!” exclaimed the prince. “What are you doing?”
            “Just checking, lad. Your duties when you become king will include producing an heir to the throne. You might as well view yourself as a royal stud machine. For that is undoubtedly what you are. And we need to check that your prick is capable of getting hard and getting some foreign princess fat with squealing brats…”’”
            Alexander paused. He realised that the subject matter was becoming dangerously treasonous.
            “Why have you stopped?” demanded Felix.
            Alexander looked for a sign of how the real-life Prince was reacting to the taking advantage of his fictional counterpart. Was he angry? Amused? Or, dared he dream it, aroused?
            But the Prince’s expression remained enigmatic. And his heavy velvet gown was now drawn closed so Alexander could not even see if his hosed cock was responding to the tale.
            “Continue, Steward! I’m simply dying to hear how the story turns out…”
            Alexander found his place in the manuscript.
            “ ‘The uncle squeezed his nephew’s cock through the boy’s tights.
            “Mmm,” purred the older man. “No problems there, I should say. That’s a good firm cock if I ever felt one. And it’s getting hard if I’m not very much mistaken.”
            The prince’s face flushed with a rosy glow: embarrassment or the effect of the wine? Probably both, decided the older man.
            “Come now, lad. You may be a prince, but you’re not too old to come and sit on your uncle’s knee as you did when you were a babe…”
            “Uncle?” replied the surprised youth.
            But his uncle was gratified to see that the youth’s head was starting to droop and the word was slurred: the drug he had added to the prince’s wine was starting to take effect.
            “Come now, lad, don’t you struggle. We know it’s what you want. Come and sit on your uncle’s lap…”
            Effortlessly, the wicked uncle lifted the lad round his tighted waist and positioned him on his lap.
            The prince tried to protest but he was no match for the brawn of his uncle. “Please, uncle, I’m not a baby anymore…”
            The uncle reached around and gave the lad’s hosed dick another squeeze. “I can feel that, lad,” he chuckled. And he shifted the boy’s weight so that the lad’s taut boy-ass was positioned right over his own swollen member. He rocked his groin back and forth so his dick pressed between the tights-covered globes of his nephew’s bum.
            “Uncle, please!” the prince protested, and tried to lift himself off his uncle’s lap.
            “You stay right where you are, lad.” His hands roamed over the lad’s body, feeling the young, firm body encased in the silken tights: the hard thigh muscles, the bulging crotch, the pert arse. The prince wriggled weakly but his wicked uncle merely laughed. “You know your squirming only serves to excite me even more, boy…”
            In one swift movement, the uncle rose to his feet, sweeping his nephew into his arms and carrying him over to the bed in the corner of the room.
            “What – what are you doing, uncle?” pleaded the bewildered young prince.
            “Hush, lad – or must I silence you, I wonder?”
            And with that, he tossed the youth onto the richly upholstered bed. The prince’s eyes widened in a mixture of fear and bewilderment. The uncle clambered on top of him so that the youth was pinioned beneath. Quickly, he took the lad’s wrists and tied one to each of the bed posts so the prince’s upper body was stretched taut.
            “Uncle, please!”
            “I see you must be silenced, princeling…”
            And the uncle smothered the prince’s pert pink lips with his own coarsely bearded mouth. The boy tried to pull away, outraged at the indecency of his own flesh and blood subjecting him to such an assault, but the older man was stronger, more persistent and driven into a frenzy of lust. His lapping tongue probed the young man’s mouth, pushing deeper and deeper into his throat, licking and nibbling and biting at his pale neck, as the prince began to thrash about impotently beneath him.
            Eventually, the uncle paused for breath, and giving his captive nephew an evil leer, he reached behind him and pressed two of his thick fingers against the boy’s arsehole. He grunted with desire as he felt the clinging material of the boy’s tights, slightly damp with sweat, give as he pushed his fingers into the royal hole.
            “Ahhh!” cried the lad. “What are you doing, uncle?”
            “Long ago I decided I would be the man who took your virginity, princeling. Your arse is mine!
            A tear began to well up in the lad’s big brown eyes. “I don’t understand.”
            “It’s true, then. You really are that naïve! I hardly thought it possible, but your cosseted life style has led you to this. Very well, nephew! I shall tell you precisely what I’m going to do to you. I’m going to tear a little hole in these fine blue tights of yours. And then I am going to release my giant prick from within the pouch of my hose and I am going to stick it right up your puckered little boy bum. All the way in. It will give me enormous pleasure. To take your cherry. It will feel so tight. So velvety. And I will pound and pound with no mercy until it feels as if your very body will rip in two. You’ll scream, boy. You’ll scream like some dirty little whore. Lying beneath me. Your hands tied to the bedposts, and me fucking you. Fucking you in your tights like some rent boy. Fucking you all – night – long.”’”

Wednesday 4 May 2011

Chapter 16 - Encased in Tights







Lord Geoffrey’s birthday celebrations had been deemed a great success. The evening had degenerated into a night of drunken debauchery. And for once, the strict regime at the castle was allowed to lapse a little. Even Mistress Olwen had to admit that the feast was indeed magnificent, although only the most adventurous of the guests dared to taste some of the dish of the day – Francois’ exotic “Coq au crème”. Those who did declared that it was utterly divine.
Geoffrey asked Alexander if the slave boy had indeed been roasted and if it was his carcass that now adorned the dinner table. Alexander replied with an enigmatic smile that he would beg to be allowed to keep that particular information a birthday secret, but something told Geoffrey that all was not as it had seemed.
Eventually, everyone made their way to their beds: Raymond perched miserably on the shrivelled Sir Wilfrid’s lap, and Sir Antony and his three companions disappeared into Lord Geoffrey’s bedchamber for a kind of entertainment Will could only imagine.
Will himself, meanwhile, was not at all surprised to be summoned to the Chief Steward’s chamber for the attention that he had received all too infrequently over the past few months, whilst Alexander’s attentions had been trained on his slave-bird.
Enter, boy!” Alexander’s masculine tones instructed as Will once again waited outside the bedchamber, dressed in his skimpy page outfit and tight-fitting hose.
As usual, Will’s heart was in his mouth as he contemplated what Alexander could possibly have in store for him this time.
However, it seemed that, mellowed by wine, Alexander was in a more conversational mood than usual.
So, slutboy,” he drawled. “What did you think of the evening’s entertainment?”
As always, Alexander’s very presence made Will feel nervous. And this was a new development. He was not usually asked for his opinion on anything!
Did it turn you on, eh? Get that pathetic little boycock twitching in your tights to see the humiliation of a great soldier – being reduced to a mere chicken?”
Will panicked trying to work out what he was supposed to say. Would it anger Alexander more if he told him he was turned on or that he wasn’t?
Answer me, bitch. Or are you still more interested in that slutty little serving girl?”
No, Sir,” Will stammered as he recalled Jane’s devastating revelation.
Ah, so you have learned the truth about that little minx then. Don’t say you were surprised! As if a woman would have had any use for you. You’re good for one thing and one thing only. To be tied up and to have a cock stuck in one of your ends. A real man’s cock!”
As if on command, Will’s dick twitched in his tights at this verbal humiliation.
I was right, boy, I see…”
Now, come over here and get your waistcoat and pumps off. I want you naked apart from your tights…”
Will did as he was instructed. He wondered if he would ever get accustomed to that terrible, wonderful thrill of excitement as he was ordered to strip down to merely that most revealing and erotic item of clothing – his tight-fitting hose.
Sit on the end of the bed…”
Will did so. And he sensed Alexander climbing onto the sheets behind him.
Master Yorick has been hard at work for you, my boy. He’s been helping me with a little project. I’ve decided I want to see and feel my little slave bitch entirely covered in tights – from head to toe.”
Will felt an item of clothing slip over his head. He soon realised that the material was the same stretchy, clingy material as his tights. Alexander guided the page boy’s arms into the garment. It appeared to have long sleeves that ended in gloves. The older man rolled down the torso of what appeared to be some kind of leotard. Alexander lifted the boy’s bottom as he fastened the body around Will’s arsehole.
Beautiful,” cooed Alexander. “And now the finishing touch…”
Will felt Alexander’s hands at his temples, as the Steward began to force a kind of hood onto his head. Will panicked slightly until he realised the material was again the same as that of his tights. The hose-hood slipped over his face but was light enough for him to be able to breathe through and (although his vision was restricted) he could just about make out shapes through the fabric.
Mmm. Perfect. Stand, boy.”
Will did as he was instructed, and Alexander stepped back to appreciate his creation. That lithe body, the strong muscular thighs and that pert, perfect bum all entirely encased in tights from head to toe.
Now you truly are my tights bitch, boy.”
Will’s cock was rock hard as ever. His senses were muffled slightly. Sounds and sights came to him differently through the clinging, blue material. And as Alexander’s manly hands began to roam over his body, the sheer sensuousness of the all-over coverage made his cock ache for release.
He felt himself being pushed back onto the bed, and once again felt the familiar sensation as his limbs were tugged into a spread-eagled position and fastened to the bedposts.
My kinky little tights slave tied up and ready to be used…”
The heady aroma of Alexander’s potion filled the air as the bottle was forced under Will’s nostrils and he had no choice but to inhale through the tights-hood.
Then the bottle was gone and Will’s hips bucked as he felt Alexander’s face sink into his, his master’s tongue pushing against the tight material and into his mouth. Will responded. The hosiery formed an erotic barrier between the two of them, preventing their salivating tongues from meeting, as the effects of the potion drove Will crazy with desire and lust.
The material was damp as Alexander withdrew his tongue and replaced it with his impressive cock.
He sat astride Will’s chest, pounding his dick into his blue boy’s mouth.
Take it,” he hissed. “Take my cock, slut boy.”
Will did as he was told as best he could. And then Alexander withdrew, leaving him gasping for air through his hood.
Now I want to see you writhe. Struggle and writhe. Struggle, moan and writhe. My tied up bitch. My kidnapped hostage. My tights slave.”
Will did as he was told, straining against his bonds, thrashing and moaning and whimpering, the potion coursing through his body, knowing that the sight was only arousing his Master more and more. The material of the tights encased him completely and caused yet more exquisite arousal.
Will felt Alexander’s stockinged foot ranging over his tights-clad body, pressing against his tits, his cock, his balls, his thighs…
And then he heard the grunt of ecstatic release as Alexander came, and hot, thick cum spattered over Will’s hosed body.
Will waited as the cum started to cool and dry on his leotard and tights. Then, to his astonishment, he felt Alexander grab his cock and start to rub it through the silken material.
Don’t get used to this, bitch. This is a special treat in honour of Lord Geoffrey’s birthday…”
Will began to moan in ecstasy as he felt his cock wanked through the gorgeous silky hose.
“Silence, bitch!” And Alexander clamped his manly palm over the boy’s nose and mouth. Will squirmed even more as the hand muffled his squeals and restricted his breathing. But the clamped hand served only to arouse him even more!
“I’m milking you, slut. Breeding my tights bitch…”
And then, try as he might to delay it, Will’s adolescent hormones betrayed him. He spurted – over and over and over – into the crotch of his hose. Alexander pumped away at his cock until he had milked it completely dry.
Will lay there, gasping post-ejaculation, astonished that Alexander had relaxed his own rules and allowed his page boy to come.
“There are going to be some changes around here, soon, boy,” Alexander warned the tights-clad figure lying prone and tied to the bed. “War is coming. And that means uncertainty for us all…”


The Chief Steward was not wrong. Mere days after the celebrations had taken place marking the occasion of Lord Geoffrey’s birthday, rumours began to circulate that the King was embarking on another foreign military campaign, and that any able-bodied men faced conscription into his army.
Sure enough, within days, Alexander had been summoned to Geoffrey’s rooms and given the news that Geoffrey, along with all his most able knights, were required to travel to Arabia to do battle with the King’s enemies there.
“It’s hopeless, of course, but the old fool is too stubborn to see it,” grumbled the Lord of the manor. “And in the mean time, good men must be sacrificed on the altar of his pride and ambition. Still, we must obey, my friend. And I fear the number of men I am required to supply means that some must come from your staff as well as those more accustomed to life on the battlefield.”
“I shall be honoured, my Lord, to fight alongside you” –
“No, no, my friend. Much as I would value it, your place is here. I need a man I can trust to protect the castle whilst I’m away. But I fear I must leave you with only a skeleton staff. All the strongest and bravest fighters must come with me.”
Will was safe. Everyone regarded him as a moronic peasant boy who would likely get himself killed within moments of arriving on a foreign shore. So there was no danger of him being conscripted. Besides, Will felt fairly sure Alexander intended to keep him very close at hand for the foreseeable future. But plenty of the other pages were required to attend some rudimentary battle training. And even Master Yorick – whose bulging muscles made him a prime target for the army – began to pack up his belongings and say his farewells.
By the end of the week, the parade of strong, handsome, virile men, with Lord Geoffrey at its head, was on its way. Tears were shed, embraces were made, and then they were gone. The castle’s chambers echoed – empty save for those deemed unworthy of military service.
Will found his day-to-day existence went on much as before. True, he had now inherited some of the duties of the other pages, but there were now far fewer residents in the castle to cater to. As for Alexander, well, he had been left in complete command. Not that Lord Geoffrey had ever seen fit to question his right-hand man before – but now the Chief Steward’s power truly was absolute.

It was a cold February morning. Will was fetching firewood to top up Mistress Olwen’s dwindling supply, when he heard an excited commotion arising from the courtyard.
“Well, boy,” snapped the old cook. “Go and see what is happening out there!”
Will hurried, all too eager to discover the cause of the disturbance. He ran outside and saw the large wooden gates of the castle swinging open. Like him, others had come to gawp at the visitors. And this is what they saw. It was a small procession, headed by a young village boy. He had been hastily recruited to carry a tall flag, with a golden crest emblazoned at its tip.
Behind the village lad rode two men that Will could only describe as giants. They were undoubtedly the tallest, broadest, biggest men that he had ever seen. Each of them must have been easily six foot six. One had masses of wiry black hair growing all over him: on his head, his face, and sprouting from his chest. The other man was equally dark, but where his companion was bearded and hairy, the second man was clean shaven, even down to his razored scalp. Both were dressed identically, wrapped up tight in long, furry, black robes that fell to their feet. They rode monstrous black horses, quite as big as the shire horses that Will’s neighbour Gyles kept back in the village farm.
The men in black each touched the hilts of their swords lightly, as if as a warning for anyone who dared approach. And they scowled evilly at the gawping servants.
As if the sight of these two ogres was not astonishing enough, the next rider in the little parade presented an even more extraordinary apparition.
It was a young man. Will guessed he was at most twenty-three or four. He was about five feet ten tall, and Will knew instantly that he was the most handsome man he had ever laid eyes on. His skin was a pure, flawless white, which contrasted with the golden waves of his shoulder length hair. His eyes were as blue as sapphires, and his nose was slim and straight. His lips red, full and slightly pouting, and his cheeks and bone structure were as fine and delicate as if they had been constructed in some heavenly forge.
His physique was easy to appreciate also, for unlike the monsters who preceded him, and in spite of the biting chill, the beautiful young man’s body was not engulfed in cloaks and furs. His shoulders were broad and his waist slim. His fine legs were clearly on display – muscular and shapely and encased in the finest, silken lavender hose. He wore leather riding boots that covered his calves, but his exquisite tights covered his thighs and then extended well beyond his flat stomach and over his chest. A silver embroidered “bolero” jacket covered the young man’s upper body and arms, but Will was all too aware that the stranger had abandoned warmth and comfort for the effect he knew his devastating attire would have on his audience. The only concession to the cold was a jaunty fur hat which perched on an angle atop his beautiful head.
The crowd fell silent as the newcomers entered the courtyard. Will could see from the young man’s proud expression that he was well used to being admired, indeed that he expected it from anyone he should meet.
The man reined in his pure white steed and called out in a clear voice: “Who is master here?”
“I have that honour – for the time being, your highness.”
Alexander had emerged from his office and stood at the top of the steps that led up to the entrance to the Great Hall.
“And who, pray, are you?”
“My name is Alexander Courcey. And I am the Chief Steward of de Montford Castle. Had we been forewarned of your arrival, we would have been able to prepare a proper welcome for you.”
“My journey here has been one of the utmost secrecy. Only my father and a few of my most trusted servants have known. My father did not dare risk my royal person by telling just – anyone.”
Alexander bowed low, but Will could see that the insult had found its mark.
“Please, then, your highness. Come this way. Our castle’s staff is rather depleted at the moment but I can assure you, we will do everything in our power to make your sojourn here a comfortable one.”
“See that you do, Courcey,” replied the young man. “My father would be most displeased if it were not.”
And with that, he swang athletically down from his steed, and followed by his hulking bodyguards, strode into the castle.
Alexander was struggling to maintain his composure.
Will suddenly realised Mistress Olwen was at his side.
“Who is it?” he hissed.
Olwen pulled a face. “That, lad, is Prince Felix: the only son and heir of our beloved King. And from what I hear of that young man, his arrival at our castle will mean only one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Trouble.”