Maiocxx

Tales from the World of Cody and Lucas
I The Lives of Owen and Bobby

4
Reclaiming Sir Robert's Heritage

Bobby narrates

1
Bobby and Peter's World

I had taken my degree from Kings in political science and Peter had his in history, plus one year at Oxford. So, both our callings fit us well.

Things were rather slow one warm summer Saturday afternoon, so I lay in a comfortable hammock with our ten-year-old slave/son and sort of mused about everything that had happened since I left England. Of course I had wanted very much to revisit the family here in BNA that had rescued me from certain death. Now that I was a free boy, with two loving parents, I wanted to somehow show my gratitude for the risk they took to succor me.

We had stopped to see them on our way west even before we had settled in our chosen home. It was an emotional reunion, especially with my beloved Peter. He had not been able to be present when I was freed, so we celebrated that occasion. Ken and Gwen were, likewise thrilled; in a sense, their bold actions saving me had come to fruition and they were vindicated. But the gift they gave me was beyond my wildest dreams.

Ken was getting ready to retire from GAF Pharmaceuticals and they both wanted to travel. With a completely straight face he asked me, "Would you consider having Peter live with you to finish his education?"

Both Peter and I were rendered speechless. With hearts as big as the universe, Owen and Brent had already agreed to this arrangement, increasing our household to five, counting Christopher, my newly minted little brother. All the adults laughed uproariously at the dumfounded expressions on Peter's and my faces.

My beloved big brother, my hero, was going to live with me! It was too wonderful!

Then, I realized how frightening this must be for Christopher. Where did this leave him? With two big brothers, I tried to assure him. But in all honesty, we were never quite as close, not like Peter and I were. He was every bit a member of our family and loved by all of us and he more than returned that love. But, he had been the first to leave the 'nest' after high school when he enlisted in the Kings North American Rifles and qualified for admission to Sandhurst. On his first posting to India, he met and married a lovely girl from Somerset and they are now raising the next generation, two lively boys and a darling little girl.

But that first night, Peter and I made love with a passion that was a bit frightening. "I haven't made love with anyone since I visited you at Chartwell," he told me. "I was saving it for you. I knew we'd be together again some day."

I hadn't been quite that chaste. After all, I had had two little slave-boys and two dads who needed my comfort. But, we were together again and would be together for eternity. To my shame, it was some weeks after we had settled in our new home, before I realized what a sacrifice Ken and Gwen had made… for the happiness of their son… and for me.

My dad, Owen, settled comfortably into his new role as 'Writer-in-Residence' at Kings College, teaching basic courses to students eager to ape this now famous writer. His writing output was simply amazing: books and articles of every genre for adults, teens and children. He was now writing under his own name and we were immensely proud of him. The College finally got around to awarding him a degree two years ago. One mustn't rush into these things, you know.

Armed with his degree in international finance, Brent, my other dad, was quite well qualified to manage and expand the fortune his grandfather had left him. A sizable chunk of the earnings were invested in an ongoing project overseas establishing self-supporting settlements whose aim was to provide slaves and peasants with the means to build lives of worth and pride. Modeled after an enterprise in North America called Paloma Ranch and one in Russia called Uhuru, they were the reason we did not see much of him during my high school and college days.

As soon as we were of age, Peter and I pledged.

I remember exactly, what he said during the ceremony. "Bobby, I have loved you since the first day I saw you sitting there in that lonely cell, frightened to death and sad beyond understanding. Truthfully, if we could not have saved you, my life would have been over. And I will love you beyond this life into the next world."

What could I say to begin to match that?

I didn't try! I simply said, "I love you, Peter. And I always will!" To honor his family, I took their name, so I am now legally Robert Sand Nelson.

Working in the office of our MP, Lucas Davidson is anything but dull. Lucas… he forbade anyone calling him Mr. Davidson… was engaged in a long-term effort to completely rewrite the laws encompassing slavery. So, part of my job was to deal with many of the messages he received. His work was no secret and attracted both praise and criticism, much of the latter in the form of threats and obscenities. If the threat was credible, it was turned over to the authorities; otherwise they were simply ignored. But any message, pro or con, that wanted to engage him rationally, Lucas answered in person.

I was also responsible for what is called 'constituent service', the myriad of questions and requests folks had for their Member. They usually involved some research, some of it very interesting, some of it deadly dull. But, I learned a great deal about how our North American cousins lived and worked.

However interesting and exciting, Peter's and my 'day' really began in the late afternoon when we walked in the front door of our little house on the Kings College campus. Waiting there for us was Daniel… our Daniel… our son.

Yes, he was a slave! But he was first and foremost our son. 'Slave' took a very distant second as we rarely practiced slave discipline in our home and most of our neighbors could not have cared less… so long as we loved and cherished him.

He was usually finished school shortly after noon and he hurried home, shed his clothes, did his chores and homework and waited with anticipation for our arrival. We had 'found' him quite by accident and I refuse to even think what might have happened to him if we had not.

We had gone to the refuse agency one Saturday afternoon to deposit both our recyclables and trash. As I drove up to the overflowing trash bin, a bundle rolled off it into our path. Peter hopped out of the car and scooped it up, intending to throw it back on the pile.

It moved! The bundle moved!

Tearing it open, he gasped and screamed, "Bobby! There's a child in here!"

At his side a moment later, I looked down at a little boy, bound and gagged. I guessed him to be about three years old. He was painfully thin, little more than a skeleton, his body covered with welts and bruises. He had blue eyes like me, filled with terror. I knew that look; years ago I saw that same look on another little boy! Me!

He was still alive and had been put out with the trash!

Not even pausing to dump our load, we rushed the little tyke to the nearest medical facility which happened to be on campus. The doctors there found massive amounts of abuse. He had been systematically starved and beaten… and raped. A badly knitted broken arm testified to the savagery he had faced.

Peter broke down completely. " How could anyone do this to a little boy?"

From the slave tattoo on his inner thigh, we traced his owner. The police found him in a drunken stupor and charged him with improper disposal of property. He did not have court approval to 'put down' this slave. In an action that must have been divinely directed, we sued for immediate custody and won! When he was well enough to leave hospital, he would be ours!

That was certainly sobering! But we knew, without a single doubt, we could not have abandoned the little guy.

From his slave record we learned his name was Daniel, that he had been orphaned at birth, had been owned by his former master ever since. We also discovered, to our amazement, that he was almost seven years old. Years of privation had stunted his growth. While he was in hospital, one of us was always with him; he dissolved into screaming fits if left alone. We realized this would be the pattern once we took him home.

My boss, Lucas, was more than kind… he was heroic… in adjusting my schedule to be able to care for Daniel. Some of Peter's students pitched in with help preparing lecture materials and all the other 'administrative' tasks expected of professors. It began to look like we just might make it.

It was a long time before Daniel trusted us. After all, he had never before been able to trust anyone in his whole life. The haunted look in his eyes began to fade and he began to speak in whole sentences instead of just single words. New as those feelings were to him, he gradually left his guard down enough to receive our love and give us his love in return.

Then, one day he opened his soul to us. What he told us about his former life was just too terrible to even think about. But his weeping words were the catharsis he needed and, from that day on, he began to grow again.

Physically, he grew at an alarming rate until, at age ten, he was a just bit small for his age, but fully recovered from his many physical injuries. His deep auburn hair and the splash of freckles across his button nose were the crown of a lithe, healthy body. That, in itself, was a miracle.

He had never been to school or received any kind of education, so we enrolled him in the College's primary school, a year or two behind his age group. By the time he was ten, he had caught up and was reading several grade levels higher. As a faculty member, Peter was eligible for this 'fringe benefit' and Daniel thrived there.

His ready smile and, now, outgoing nature endeared him to both his teachers and fellow students as well. The school had a mixture of slaves and free children, so he was not an anomaly. The free kids had long ago concluded that the slave kids were much like them; they simply lived under a slightly different set of rules.

His best buddies were two free kids, Sean and Liam, my boss's grandsons. They had once been slaves themselves and had been abused by their former master. Indeed, Sean had been horribly maimed, so they knew well what Daniel might have endured.

Author's Note: See Chapter 21 of Cody and Lucas for Sean and Liam's story.

Daniel and Liam were in the same class in school and sometimes walked home together before Daniel started his chores. That one boy was a slave and the other was free made not a bit of difference to them. They were friends.

As he sat preparing his lecture notes one afternoon, Peter heard them talking outside the window. As he told me later, he heard Daniel tell Liam, "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

"Oh, all right," answered Liam.

Peter stood up and peered out of the window to observe them eagerly examining each others…

Report Cards!

(What did you think they were looking at?)

Daniel was not a perfectly behaved child. Indeed, he had a lot of mischief stored up, but none of it was hurtful or unkind. We realized early on, spanking him would have crushed him completely, so we had to devise other means of correcting him. Usually a stern word or even a stern look from one of us was enough. His very worst punishment was being made to sleep alone. He rarely committed the same transgression twice.

Emotionally! Ah, there it was!

Once that dark wall of distrust had been shattered, he burst open like a desert flower after the first spring rain. Every confidence was shared and the love he showered us with was truly amazing in its depth and passion. I have never seen or heard of a child so eager to display his love for his parents. While many of his peers were embarrassed by any show of maternal or paternal love in public, Daniel would have been devastated without his good-by kiss when Peter dropped him off at school in the morning.

Passionate? Let me give you an example.

Stepping through the door into our house, you had better be prepared to deal with 75 pounds [34 kg] of naked boy launching himself from the middle of the room into your arms and smothering you with hugs and kisses. That had been the pattern of our nightly greeting for the past year and we soon learned to leave briefcases and other impedimenta on the porch until we had been properly greeted. The only problem was if we arrived together, who should he hug first. The decision was usually made in a tangle of bodies on the floor.

It did sort of backfire on one occasion.

Peter's regular contacts on campus included Dr. Dora Washington, the chair of the Human Resources Department. I had met her also as her work at Kings paralleled my boss's in some respects. Indeed, her work on campus was responsible for Daniel's being able to go to school with free kids instead of some other less effective method of education.

Peter had invited her to dinner one evening and asked me to take her home with me as he had a late class. She dropped by our office and the two of us left for home.

When we arrived deep in conversation, completely forgetting Daniel's style of greeting, I held open the door for her and motioned her into the house.

At the top of his arc, Daniel suddenly realized the person in the doorway was neither Peter nor I.

IT WAS A WOMAN!

AND HE WAS NAKED!

If you have never seen a naked little boy try to run in mid air, you have missed one of the truly hilarious scenes in life. Daniel managed to twist fully about, did a complete flip, landed on his feet and dashed out of the room, shouting, "I'm sorry, mistress!" The last thing we saw was his little bare ass disappearing down the hall, leaving both Dora and me in stitches.

He reappeared shortly, dressed in shorts and short tunic, his usual dress when we had guests. His accusing look to me said, "Well, you might have warned me!"

Dropping into a perfect position of respect, he told Dr. Washington, "I'm very sorry, Mistress. I did not greet you properly. This unworthy slave welcomes you to our humble house."

Impressed, Dora motioned him to rise. "Why are you sorry, Daniel?"

"Because I did not show you proper respect. And, I, I, I, I was naked."

Dora motioned for him to come to her arms. After a moment's hesitation, he snuggled down into them, trying very hard not to be engulfed by Dora's very ample bosom. He told us later, "She certainly smelled nice!"

"Daniel," she told him, "I have seen naked slaves of both sexes from toddlers to adults and you are surely one of the cutest."

Restored to his feet, he stood there with a shocked look, the rest of him about the same shade as his hair.

Later that night, after Daniel had gone to bed… in Peter's, this night… Dora asked how he came to us. I told her how we had 'found' him. She disagreed, "Robert, you did not find Daniel. He found you! God places both challenges and gifts in our paths. I'm sure Daniel was His gift to the two of you."

We had never thought about it that way and it was awesome!

"When do you plan to free him?"

"In about a year."

"Good! Eleven is a wonderful age for a boy. For a girl, fourteen or fifteen is more appropriate. In each case, they are ready to appreciate what a wonderful gift freedom is. Your Daniel, will be outstanding, I predict."

Both Peter and I were careful to allow plenty of one-on-one time with Daniel. For my part, when the weather was nice, the two of us often walked to the little park near our house. Sometimes we kicked a football (soccer) ball about. Other times, we just sat and talked. A few times I just held him in my arms; we didn't need words to express our affection.

One summer afternoon, I had left work early and he and I had had an afternoon football match in the park. We walked home down a street lined with row houses, most of them neat and tidy. The exception was one toward the middle of the block; the yard was full of trash, the paint was peeling badly, the front steps were broken, as was the door, hanging off one hinge.

We had passed when a child's scream, coming from the house, rent the air.

Daniel immediately turned back. "STOP, DANIEL. Don't go in!"

But, before I could restrain him, he leaped up on the porch and through the door into the house. I was a second or so behind him and plunged through the door to see a naked little girl cruelly tied to a cross and a shabbily-dressed man approaching the child with a wicked looking knife. Between them stood Daniel, arms outstretched, attempting to fend off the killer.

Picking up the leg from a smashed table, I brought it down on the man's head, knocking him to the floor unconscious. Using my own pocket knife, we cut the little girl down and Daniel sat with her in his arms, comforting her and soothing her terror while I made a quick check of the rest of the downstairs.

In the next room, I found a woman who turned out to be the child's mother. She had a nasty lump on her head and had been hogtied and gagged.

With her daughter restored to her arms, she told us the man was her stepfather and wanted the little girl for… well let's not go into that. She had refused him and he beat her up and was going to kill the child and burn the house down with them all in it.

I had notified the police and left Peter a message that Daniel and I might be late for supper.

The constable and an inspector arrived. After arranging hospital transportation and interviewing the mother, he sent them on their way and took our statements. Satisfied we had nothing more to add, he thanked us for our help in preventing a horrible crime.

We left and started homeward, but I immediately noticed that Daniel was very upset and needed some 'fathering' to unwind. We returned to the little park and sat on one of the benches. At first, I thought his distress was simply the fright of finding and saving the child from certain death. But that wasn't it at all.

I sat with my arm about him and, after a few minutes he said, "Master!" (He never called me that.) "Master, I have been very wicked! I disobeyed you! I did not stop when you told me to."

I thought he, perhaps, hadn't heard me in his excitement, but that wasn't the case. For the first and only time in his life, he had defied me and his guilt was crushing him.

"You must punish me! You must whip me like the disobedient slave that I am."

For a minute or two I could not speak. He had saved a beautiful little girl. Yes, it was against my wishes, but how could I punish him for that? Finally, I managed to get my head together.

"No Daniel, I will not punish you!"

That upset him even more. He took my statement to mean I didn't care about him!

"But, Father," he wailed. "I disobeyed you! I…"

"Daniel," I interrupted him, "come to me." And I held my sobbing son in my arms until he had cried himself out.

"Why do you think I ordered you to stop?" I asked him gently.

"You were afraid I might get hurt."

"And why did you decide to disobey me?"

"I knew the little girl was going to be hurt or killed if I didn't help her."

"How did you know that?"

"I don't know," he sniffed. "I just did!"

"Daniel, why do you obey me?"

"Because you're my master. I have to," he answered.

"Is that the real reason?"

"No! You're my Dad and I love you and I know you are always right and always do what is right for me and love…"

"Whoa, there! That's a lot of reasons. But I want you to know that I am not always right. Today I was wrong and the little girl would be dead if I had kept you back."

He looked at me, his eyes wide with shock. "But how?" he asked, confused.

"We all have an inner voice called our conscience that God gives us to help us know."

"But, how will I know it's that and not that I just don't understand? I'm just a kid!"

"Daniel, you understand far more than many adults."

"But, I still feel bad about defying you," he admitted.

"I know you do. Growing up is not easy. But maybe this will help your hurt. A long time ago, Peter's father told me something I'll never forget and I hope you never will, either. He said. 'There are times in life when you must do what your conscience tells you no matter what others may think. You may suffer and pay a price for your actions, but you have been true to yourself and that's what counts.' I think he would agree today was one of those times and so do I."

"Gosh! That's heavy!"

"Yes it is. Let me give you an example. I once asked Ken why he and his family decided to take up my cause and save me. You know what he said? He said, 'Because it was the right thing to do.' He risked everything: job, family, even his freedom to save me. What would have happened if he had listened to everyone else?"

"You would be dead and I wouldn't have such a wonderful dad."

"You're right, but I didn't think about that until the day I asked him that question."

"Wow!"

"Sometimes, too, it's not a matter of what you do but what you believe. You know, my boss's sons, Sean and Liam's dads, went to the same school you go to. One day an evil man set off a bomb, trying to kill all the teachers and kids. The building was nearly destroyed, but everyone got out safely before the building collapsed except for Ronald, Donald and three of their friends. The father of one of the boys had led many of them to safety, but he was trapped in the building, too, when it fell."

"Everyone assured Lucas and his brother, Cody, that the boys could not have survived. They were as sad as Lucas and Cody were, but they were sure the boys were dead. Even Cody gave up to despair."

"But Lucas refused to give up! His conscience told him they were alive. He forced the workers to continue digging. He refused to take no for an answer, to the point that some of them grew quite angry with him. They had enough to cope with. They didn't need this wild man making it worse! But, he kept at them!"

"When a last major piece of the concrete floor was lifted, there they were. The one little boy and his father were dead, but Ronnie and Donnie… and David and Tommy, who later became their Lifemates… were there, alive. They were frightened, scraped and bruised, covered with concrete dust and ALIVE. Think what would have happened if Lucas had lost heart, too."

Daniel was rendered speechless. He just took my hand and the two of us walked slowly home together. Daniel didn't say much at supper. He was far too busy 'growing up'.

Later that night, I told Peter the entire story.

His reaction was interesting. I'm usually the emotional one, Peter is mister 'quiet, thoughtful one', but his immediate statement was, "Bobby, it's time." I agreed; I had come to that conclusion as Daniel and I had walked home together. Daniel had matured a lot this afternoon.

So, a few days later Daniel celebrated his eleventh birthday, his first ever as a free boy. And he was officially our son, Daniel Robert Kenneth Nelson. He told us over and over those two things were the greatest gifts he would ever receive.

And he demonstrated his thanks in bed that night with a zeal that left both Peter and me breathless and exhausted.

But, that's our Daniel!

It was about a week later the message arrived late one afternoon from England: SIR ROBERT SUFFERED A MAJOR STROKE AND IS NOT EXPECTED TO LIVE. HE IS ASKING FOR YOU. CAN YOU COME? MARCUS CROWELL.

Not going was not an option!

2
Sir Robert's World

The estate was just as I remembered it!

Except that everyone was in tears. No one… myself included… could imagine Chartwell without its Tenth Earl, this wise and gentle man who had been such a tower of strength.

The young slave who took my luggage… a boy about nine… was named Arthur or Artie, and would figure prominently in the future. I hurried into the familiar hall to the family.

Alfred was the first to greet me and I was sad to see him look so worn and old. Marcus and Timo… now college age… greeted me with eyes red-rimmed with tears.

"Bobby, thank you so much for coming," Marcus told me. "He's been asking for you all day and declares he will not go until he has seen you. We've all said our goodbyes and now it's your turn."

I looked at their ravaged faces and I knew what I had to face. "I think I know the way," I assured them.

Entering the familiar bedroom… how many nights had he comforted me here… I looked down on the mere husk of the man I remembered. He was shriveled, gaunt and would not have wished to continue in that shape in this world. But, he smiled up at me and suddenly the sun came out and I was a little boy again.

"Here, sit," he told me. "The gang upstairs has been hollering for me all day to join them. Well, I told them they would just have to be patient. I was not ready to join them, yet. Not until I had seen you."

He had held them off by sheer force of personality. It should not have surprised me, but it did and I felt very humble.

"You know," he said, "I've had many boys here over the years, but it was you I loved best." Waving away my protests, he continued, "Maybe it was because you needed me so much, but I needed you just as much. I knew Owen and Brent were the right parents for you, but you will always be my son, too. The son I never had."

At that I almost broke down completely. He had paid me an honor that was above worth.

"Will you stay with me, my son?" he asked.

"Of course!" I answered as I sat on the edge of his bed.

We didn't talk after that. What else was there to be said? I held his hand and, in a short while, he breathed his last. "Goodbye, Father," I sobbed as I kissed him and went to tell the others.

Sir Nigel, the youngest son of Sir Robert's brother was speedily invested as The 11th Earl of Chartwell. His two older brothers had removed themselves from the line of succession; one was a clergyman and the other a colonel in the Lancers who had renounced his title when he was commissioned. I had met the man and was not impressed; he seemed so shallow, so unimaginative compared to Sir Robert. But, perhaps I was just overreacting.

Sir Robert had prepared for his funeral by specifying two eulogizers. Alfred was no surprise, but the second one was.

Me!

I felt overwhelmed! What could I possibly say to these people who had been with him forever where I had spent only two years. But, I would fill his last request. It was the very least I could do for him.

The day of his service started cloudy and cold, but the sun broke through just as the mourners gathered under the huge tent near the family graveyard. Throngs had arrived to pay their respects including both Prince Harry and His Majesty, who greeted me warmly. "I remember sitting beside a very brave little boy at another service. I remember saying that I hoped we would be friends. You've grown up since then. I like what I see."

"Thank you, Sire. I'm honored that you remembered."

"I remember all my friends," he replied with a twinkle in his eye.

Alfred spoke movingly of growing up beside Sir Robert. He had been given to him when they were both five-years-old, but they had been much more like brothers instead of master and slave. When Sir Robert had succeeded to the title, his first act had been to free Alfred and appoint him his Seneschal and Marshal. Together, they had trained and freed over 100 boys, all of whom had become valuable subjects of His Majesty. Sir Robert had often told the King that was his finest accomplishment and the one he wished to be remembered for.

He concluded by wishing Sir Nigel the best as he began his stewardship of Chartwell. This despite his loathing of the man which he had shared with me the previous evening.

I was next and, truthfully, I stepped up on the platform with no idea of what I was going to say. But I started to speak and the words just flowed out of me. I guessed it was like my Dad, Owen, felt when he was writing.

"Quite a few years ago, a sad and frightened little boy came to Chartwell. He was sad because he had been snatched away from his family in North America. He was frightened because he had a price on his head. Indeed, if it had not been for that courageous family and the untiring efforts of Sir Robert, I would have been hanged. For you see, I was that little boy."

"At first, I was angry and depressed. I no longer had a death sentence over me, but I wanted very badly to return to the family who had rescued me. I could see no reason for my slavery here at Chartwell."

"I was blinded by my own conceit!"

"For I soon learned that Sir Robert loved me as deeply as my North American family, and I learned to trust and revere him. The bravest thing he ever did and one that forever scarred him was having to administer a court-ordered caning to save me from the gallows. But, it demonstrated that I could trust him and he would always put my welfare ahead of his own comfort. The stripes I received that day from him quickly healed, but their meaning has always been with me."

"It was here at Chartwell I learned discipline… putting my comfort aside in service to another. I learned the value and pride of hard work and respect for all members of my 'family', slave or free."

"He kept his promise and found me parents who are truly awesome. I know that word is overworked, but that is what they are and Sir Robert knew they were the ones for me. And, shortly before my time here ended, he honored me by giving me two little slave boys to train. I must have done, OK as he adopted them as his grandchildren."

"It was my sad honor to be with him when, as he put it, he 'went to join the gang upstairs'. But just before he did, he pronounced upon me an honor greater than an earldom."

"Or a dukedom."

"Or even a monarch's crown!"

"He called me 'Son'!"

The rest of my time there was a blur. And, before many days passed, I was back home and catching up on my work for Lucas. Marcus and Timo had entered college and Marcus and I maintained contact for a while. We were saddened to learn of Alfred's death three month after Sir Robert's. Obviously, the 'gang upstairs' had not been quite complete. But, gradually, our correspondence dwindled. I could tell that things were not going well, but had my own concerns to attend to.

So, I was caught completely unprepared when another message arrived from England. WE COULD USE YOUR COUNSEL. CAN YOU COME? This time it was signed by Prince Harry!

3
The Heritage Stolen and Regained

The Condor once more dropped me at Farnsborough where I was met by Marcus and Prince Harry. As we all embraced and shook hands, I suddenly realized someone was missing.

"Where's Timo?" I asked.

Marcus bit his lip and looked down at his feet and tears started to form in his eyes. "He's gone, Bobby."

"Gone? What do you mean?"

"The little twit never told me he was sick until it was too late. He died a month ago."

"Peritonitis!" added the Prince.

"I just couldn't bring myself to tell you!" wept Marcus.

He was college age now, but I took him into my arms anyway. And wept with him.

Timo! The little boy I had trained! Gentle, quiet, studious Timo! Timo, whose smile could make the sun come out! The pain I felt was physical!

"And no one at the estate noticed?" I asked.

Marcus dried his tears before answering. "We weren't living there any more. He threw us out. I have a place in Middleton Tyas. The Prince has been helping me with expenses, until I finish college and can get a job."

"But Sir Robert left you sufficient to live on and go to college," I said, puzzled.

"But Nigel refused to recognize their claims," said Harry. "He's got it all tied up in the courts. He'll lose eventually, but it could take years."

"And he won't even let me have my slave, Artie, either. By the time that goes through the courts, Artie will be a grown man… if he lives that long."

I was flabbergasted! How could he do this? And I didn't at all like Marcus's last statement. "Is he abusing Artie?" I asked.

"We should not say anything more just now," interrupted the Prince. "I'd like you to drive out to the estate and observe for yourself. Then we'll talk."

Daniel had been watching all this with wide eyes. I hugged him, "It's going to be all right, Son."

"I sure hope so," he said. "I know how much these folks mean to you."

Leaving Daniel with them, I took Marcus's car and drove out to the estate.

After arguing my way past a new guard gate, I drove into the courtyard. All of Sir Robert's lovely gardens were gone! In their place were plots of cannabis. The house was clearly in need of major repairs. I had seen no livestock in the paddocks on the way in.

What I did see was large numbers of young slaves who seemed to have replaced all of Sir Robert's workforce. The slaves were thin and looked exhausted; they were being overseen by a few armed thugs who seemed to enjoy whipping them. Traditional slave coverings had been abandoned; they all were naked and barefoot.

As I climbed the steps to the house, I noticed all of the statuary was missing.

"What are you doing here?" asked the hulking brute who barred my entrance to the house.

"I'm Robert Nelson and I…"

"I know who you are. Why are you here?"

"I came to pay my respects to Sir Nigel," I answered.

"Well, you've paid them. Please leave at once! And don't come back." And he slammed the door in my face.

I made it back to Farnsborough in record time, fuming all the way. "All right! What's going on?" was my first question.

"He's destroying Chartwell," wailed Marcus.

"He's systematically bleeding the earldom dry," added Harry. "He's sold off most of the art, dismissed all the contract workers and substituted slave-boys. Anything he can do to raise cash."

"What's he doing with all the money," asked Daniel, wide-eyed. I had been about to ask the same question, but he beat me to it.

The Prince sighed. "Gambling!"

"Well, can't you stop him?" asked my son.

"No Daniel, we can't. He's broken no laws, at least, not yet." Turning back to me, he continued. "My brother has researched every possibility. Barring treason, there is no way he can remove him. It would take a unanimous action by all the peers and they are far too timid. Most of them despise Nigel, but don't want to see him deposed lest they suffer the same fate some time."

"The fine gentleman who greeted you so politely is Pierre Laval. He is Nigel's 'minder', straight from the gambling interests in Monte Carlo."

"So, why did you ask me to come?"

"We thought you might have a different perspective," answered Harry.

"And I'm not ashamed to admit it, I needed someone to hold me and help me get over Timo's death," added Marcus.

At that moment Daniel did something breathtakingly beautiful; he walked over to Marcus, put his arms around him and just hugged and held him. Even though he had just met him, he knew what Marcus needed.

The drive into Middleton Tyas was mostly quiet as each of us wrestled with the disaster that was unfolding.

The next several days were spent in futile discussions. We could think of no way to unseat Nigel, at least none we thought the public would accept. I had begun to despair; a place I had loved so much and was the embodiment of a man I had loved so much was being systematically destroyed… raped, if you like. And we were seemingly powerless to so anything about it.

It was Daniel who broke the impasse. He sensed that Marcus was most upset that Artie was being held from him and was genuinely afraid for his safety. "Why don't we all just go in and take him?" was his simple solution. "We could sneak him out in the trunk (boot) of the car." He immediately saw the impracticality, but his words set me to thinking.

The next morning, I told the others my scheme.

"Too dangerous," was the unanimous opinion of the others… except for Daniel.

"He can do it!" he told them confidently.

"I once pledged my life to Sir Robert. I can't abandon his memory without trying," I told the others.

"You know," said the Prince, "it might just work. Nigel is so much in debt, Laval would jump at the chance for more cash."

We rented a small lorry (truck). Since both Marcus and Prince Harry were well known at Chartwell, we recruited James, Harry's footman, to be the driver. "Well, James, here's your chance for some excitement," the Prince encouraged him.

"Your Highness," he replied, "I would be honored to play a part in bringing this sad situation to a close."

Daniel, of course, wanted to go with us, but I vetoed that telling him it was too dangerous. He wasn't happy, but accepted that I didn't want to have to worry about him in the middle of our mission. Preston, Marcus's landlady's son agreed to take him to the park for some tennis and that served to mollify his hurt feelings. Prince Harry and Marcus would meet us at the Chancery Court in Richmond.

Into the truck we put a small packing case, a two-wheeled dolly and a stack of freight transfer pads, and the two of us set out for the estate. Telling the gate guard we were there to purchase books, we were passed through.

Passing by one of the outbuildings, I saw a young boy hanging from a rack while an overseer of some sort whipped him with a tawse. I could have exploded and it was a good thing James was driving as I would have run off the road. The only emotion he showed was a clenching of his jaw. But he reached over and laid his hand on my arm. "Courage, sir. Remember our mission!"

He was right, of course. We could not intervene no matter how angry I was.

Nigel himself came out to greet us, "I thought you were told to stay away!"

"I heard you wanted to sell some books from the library and I'm here to buy. I'll pay top price," I handed him two one-hundred-pound notes.

He thought for a moment and then said. "All right, but be quick about it."

One problem solved, but the next one would be harder… how to find Artie and enlist his 'help' packing the books and loading the lorry. I had made up a somewhat improbable story that Artie was familiar with the library and could help speed the process. "I'll need a slave boy to help pack and load."

At that moment, fortune smiled upon us. Artie appeared in the doorway behind Nigel. From his tear-stained face, I could tell he had been recently punished. "How about that one?" I asked, hopefully.

Nigel turned to the lad, "Boy, go and help this man with some books. When you have finished, come back to me and we'll finish your instruction." Artie immediately went to his position of respect, earning a kick in the side from his master, "Get up, you lazy shit and get busy!"

Artie and I unloaded the packing case and the dolly and I directed James to park under a small copse of trees with the bed of the lorry facing away from us. I nodded to Artie and we carried the case up to the library, leaving the dolly on the porch.

As soon as we were in the library, I closed and latched the door. And I had a chance to really look at the boy. He had grown some, since I had met him at Sir Robert's funeral, but he was pathetically thin, little more than skin and bones. Covered with welts, cuts and bruises, he stood with his head down in despair. I wondered how long it would have been until he was 'put down'.

I held my arms out to him, but he waived me away. "Please, Sir. He'll just punish me more!"

"Artie, don't you recognize me?"

He raised his head and looked at me. Recognition came slowly. "Y,y,you're the one who spoke at Sir Robert's… You're Bobby!" he gasped.

I swept him into my arms and the two of us wept.

After a few minutes, he asked, "How is Sir Marcus?"

"He's OK. Did you know that Timo died?"

"Yes," he sobbed. Then, "Why are you here?"

"I'm going to get you out of here and take you to Marcus, today." And I explained my scheme to him. The look of despair was replaced by a new look… hope.

I began to select some books, making a list of them while Artie packed. I had to be careful not to make the case too heavy for Artie to manage. But, from his look of determination, he could have carried several times as many.

When I judged we had enough, we closed the box and fastened the lid. "Now," I told my helper, "I'll help you carry the box to the porch and we'll put it on the dolly. You're to wheel it over to the lorry and my driver will help you load it. As soon as it and the dolly are in, crawl in beside the case and wrap yourself in the pads that are there. Make sure you cover yourself thoroughly. Once we get underway, you'll have to lie very still until we pass the guard gate. If you feel someone touching the pads, don't panic. If we run into a problem, I'll handle it, OK?" I told him with more confidence than I felt.

He nodded and we carried the case of books to the porch. "Get those to my vehicle, boy!"

I went into the foyer to settle up with Nigel, standing so he would have to face away from the lorry. I presented him with my list and we haggled for a bit… designed to permit Artie and James to complete their deception. I finally agreed on a price, paid him, and demanded a receipt. By the time he returned with that, James had pulled up in front.

"Where's the boy?" Nigel wanted to know.

"I guess he went looking for you. That's what you told him to do, wasn't it?"

I crawled into the passenger seat and we started off. Nigel's eyes followed us up the drive.

At the gate, I had to open the case for the guard. "What's the blankets for?" he asked, laying his hand on them.

"To keep the case from shifting around," I replied.

At that moment another lorry approached and, sure we were not stealing any treasures, he waived us through. Ironically, we were stealing one of the estate's greatest treasures, a living, breathing young boy.

We drove toward Richmond at moderate speed. As soon as we were outside of the earldom, I had James pull over. I ran back to the cargo area and unwrapped our precious burden.

He had nearly passed out from the heat. When I scooped up his naked body, I felt something sticky.

Blood! And there was some on the pad. It was seeping out of his anus!

"Oh, God! No! They didn't!" I groaned as I crawled back into the cab with him in my arms.

"Oh Artie! Did they? Were you?" I sobbed.

"Yes, sir. He did that to all the boys! It hurts terrible."

I saw James clench his jaw for the second time!

"James, I think we better go straight to hospital. This child is hurt."

"With all due respect, sir," he replied, "we need to get him registered first. It won't take long and it will prevent the Earl from interfering or invoking the Runaway Slave Act."

He was right! Until Artie was registered to Marcus, he was a runaway and could be hanged if we were caught. I nodded and we continued on. Artie simply lay in my arms and gazed up at me.

"Is this really happening?" he wanted to know. "Am I really going to be with Marcus again?"

"Absolutely! He's missed you very much, especially since his brother passed away. He's been very concerned about you."

"He had every right to be!" I thought.

Forty minutes later, we pulled up in front of the Richmond Chancery Court.

Marcus picked up his slave and sank to his knees, cradling the boy in his arms. Neither could speak… nor did they need to.

I suddenly saw someone else in the background. "Peter!" I screeched.

"I told him to meet us here," explained the Prince. "It was easier than trying to get to Middleton Tyas."

We held each other quietly; I was SO glad to see him! In truth, I needed a bit of comforting after the stress of the morning.

Suddenly, Marcus shouted, "He's hurt! He's bleeding!"

"Yes, let's get him registered so we can get him to hospital," I urged them.

We all filed into the courtroom. Artie could stand… barely… and we clustered around him.

The magistrate… a woman… had already studied his papers, so she was prepared to act. Suddenly she looked at Artie and asked, "Is the boy hurt?"

"Yes," Marcus choked. "He's been raped!"

"Oh my God!" she gasped. "I take it his former master did this?"

Marcus nodded.

"Get him to hospital! I'll send the papers by courier!"

"Thank you, Your Honor!"

We took Artie to a government-operated hospital. Even though it was supposed to treat everyone, the administrator did not want to admit a slave. Only after Harry threatened to have him immediately transferred to the Outer Hebrides, did he relent.

An orderly in green scrubs whisked Artie off to surgery and the rest of us settled down to wait. I took the occasion to bring Peter up-to-date. He remembered Chartwell in Sir Robert's time and was sad and angry to hear what was happening. Unfortunately, he had no shining insights into solving the problem.

An hour later, a surgeon appeared with a report, "Which one of you is his owner?" he demanded belligerently.

"I am."

"Did you do this to him?"

"No, he didn't," intervened Harry. "We rescued him from his former owner this morning."

The doctor turned back to Marcus. "I'm sorry. I should not have spoken in haste. I was just so angry. Poor kid. I don't care if he's a slave or not. He's a kid and anyone who would do this to a kid, well…"

"I understand," said Marcus. "Please! How is he?"

"Well, aside from the fact he has been almost starved to death and had the shit beaten out of him, he's not too bad. Yes, he's been raped repeatedly. There was one small tear in his anus which I fixed, but he doesn't seem to have anything life-threatening. I'd like to keep him overnight, just to make sure."

"Can I be with him?" asked Marcus.

The doctor looked surprised. "Why, sure! That way we won't have to shackle him. Wretched law! Come with me, you can go to him." And he led Marcus out of the waiting area.

The ride back to Marcus's apartment was quiet. We didn't know how Nigel would react; we would shortly find out. For we arrived back at Middleton Tyas to confront another catastrophe.

Daniel was gone! He had been snatched by Nigel!

Preston was beside himself with remorse. "Sir, I tried to stop them! We were just ready to come home from the park for lunch, when one of Sir Nigel's vans blocked us and they grabbed Daniel. I tried to tell them they had no authority here, but one of them punched me and by the time me head cleared, they were gone. They left you this." The welt across his cheek, testified to his attempt to save Daniel and I took the note from him with great misgiving.

Nelson

You have stolen something from me and until you return it, your son will be my guest. Do not tarry. My patience is limited

Nigel,
Earl of Chartwell

I exploded! "IF HE HARMS SO MUCH AS ONE HAIR ON MY SON'S HEAD, I WILL STRANGLE HIM WITH MY BARE HANDS!"

I raged for a half hour as Peter and Prince Harry tried to calm me down. They were equally upset, I knew, but weren't quite so vocal about it.

Finally, Harry managed to prevail. "Bobby, listen to me. He will not harm Daniel. He may be stupid but he's not that stupid. I promise you, Daniel will be OK. He won't like it there, but he will NOT be harmed."

"Easy for you to say!" I regretted that as soon as the words left my mouth.

He ignored my retort and continued. "But he's given us the key to removing him!"

"How?" both Peter and I chorused.

"Middleton Tyas is a charter city," continued the Prince. "That means it is located within the earldom but is not subject to the earl's rule. They are completely independent."

"So?"

"Under parliamentary law, 'kidnapping', is defined as the unlawful removal of a free person by force from one jurisdiction to another. He has kidnapped Daniel and no court in the land would countenance that. The penalties for kidnapping are very severe, including hanging. I know you are very upset and concerned for your son's safety and so am I, but we can now move against him."

The Prince left us to make some phone calls, while Peter and I just held each other. When Harry returned, he told us, "My brother says to convey his deepest concern. He has ordered a battalion of the Scots Guards to move at once to apprehend Nigel and occupy Chartwell. It will take about a day to get them here."

The next day was one of the worst of my life… on a par with sitting in a cell at GAF. Several times my rage overflowed and Peter had to take me in hand. Thank heavens one of us can keep his head. Marcus and Artie had come home from the hospital and were excited to learn what had happened.

Early the next morning, the Guards moved into Chartwell with little opposition. But someone had tipped off Nigel and Laval and they had fled, to France. "He's now in still more trouble," Harry explained. "He has 'fled the King's justice'. That's generally considered treason, but the Frogs won't extradite him. They consider it a 'spat' among our nobles."

As soon as Colonel Lovett assured us Chartwell was secured, Peter, Marcus and I hurried to the estate. Artie… in spite of orders from the surgeon to rest… insisted on going with us. "The boys know me," he argued, "and I can help to get them to trust the soldiers."

The four of us searched the main house from top to bottom. No Daniel! Then all the outbuildings. Still no Daniel! We were all getting frantic, when Artie appeared with a very frightened teen slave who fell on his knees in front of us. "Please Masters! I didn't want to do it, but they made me do it."

"Do what?" I asked him.

"Put him in the dungeon!"

"Well, don't sit there blubbering! Show us where!" He led us to the basement and opened a door to a passageway that I had never seen in the two years I had been there. Of course, every manor house had to have a dungeon where criminals could be kept. Taking a key off a hook, the teen unlocked one of the cells.

And there was Daniel!

Naked and filthy, his hands shackled behind his back and fastened by a chain to the bare iron bunk. It was too short for him to reach to reach the privy in the corner and he had urinated and defecated all over himself.

In a flash, Peter and I were beside him and we just held him and wept; no words were necessary to convey our relief.

Finally he roused himself and told us, "I'm sorry, Dads! I should not have done it! I know better."

"Whatever are you talking about?" asked Peter.

Daniel took a deep breath, "After they brought me to the house, they locked me in a bedroom. At dinner time, they insisted I join them, but they stationed a guard behind me. I refused to eat their food and just sat across from the Frenchman and glared at them. Nigel, the snake, told me if I didn't eat my dinner like a good boy, he would make me a slave. 'And you won't like it!' he said. 'Yes, ' said the Frog, 'We don't treat them very nicely. Your fathers, the fags, had better learn to behave themselves or I will destroy them and you!' But I still wouldn't eat their food."

"At the end of the meal, the Frenchman started to feel my boy parts. I was so shocked I couldn't move for a minute. 'You like eet, don't you?' he purred, and I stood up and punched him. NO ONE TOUCHES ME DOWN THERE BUT YOU AND BOBBY! I think I broke the stinking pervert's nose. But, I'm sorry I shouldn't have done that."

He began to sob again. "If I ever see that bloody pervert again, I kick his damned balls so hard they'll come out his mouth. I'LL KILL HIM!" and he clung to Peter shrieking, "I'LL KILL HIM!" over and over.

I was alarmed at his language and the hatred he displayed. It was not the Daniel we knew. Yes, he knew slaves were often mistreated. He knew some parents mistreated their children. But this was PERSONAL! They had tried to abuse him, but… and this was the crux of his pain… they had threatened his parents. And that he would not tolerate.

"Oh, my beautiful, brave, son! Don't be sorry," I told him. "You were defending yourself and Peter and I are very proud of you."

"Anyway," he concluded, "they took me down here, chained me to the bed and left me in the dark. I wasn't frightened; I knew you would come." At his simple statement of faith, I almost 'lost it'.

Artie returned with a large ring of keys and, a short time later, Daniel was free. His legs were cramped, he was a bit dehydrated and his wrists were rubbed raw from trying to reach the privy but he was otherwise unharmed. I scooped him up and carried him up to the laundry room.

A tub full of steaming hot water greeted us, along with soap and towels. I plopped Daniel in the tub and, while Peter held him, began to wash him. Just like we had done when he first came to us. He just lay back with a dreamy look. "Oh, Lord. I forgot how good that felt," he sighed.

He told us, too, how upset he was at what Nigel had done to the estate. "I know you always said it was such a beautiful place. With such loving people. Now it's ruined and full of beaten and starved kids!" He refused to call them 'slaves'.

"I promise you it will be a beautiful place again, just like Sir Robert would have wanted it, "I assured him.

"Will Marcus be the Earl?"

"Yes, I'm sure of it. When Nigel took you, he committed a serious crime and the King could remove him. Unfortunately, someone tipped him off and he and Laval fled to France. But he's gone and you can be proud that you were the key. The soldiers from the Scots Guards have taken over until Marcus is invested. And they will stay to help as long as needed."

"Then it was worth it. He could have tortured me and it would still have been worth it! Just to get rid of him. What will happen to all the boys?"

"The Guards will take good care of them and see they have enough to eat and a place to sleep. We'll… already I had taken ownership of the task ahead… need them to start rebuilding, but they won't be abused."

"Thanks, Dads!"

"For what?"

"For loving me." Any other words would have seemed trite and the three of us wept together again.

While we had been busy rescuing and restoring Daniel, the Guards made a gruesome discovery: a trash pit. In addition to normal household trash, the pit contained a number of bodies!

Bodies of young slaves!

Dead and dying young slaves!

What the other slaves revealed about the pit and its obscene contents was unbelievable. If a slave became sick or was injured and could not work, he was simply tossed into the pit and left to die. The local court, firmly under Nigel's thumb, approved the actions retroactively.

Four of the boys in the pit were still alive and were swiftly evacuated by helicopter to Children's Hospital in London. Three of them would be returned to us by summer's end, their physical injuries healed. Whether their minds would ever heal was problematic. It was likely they might need custodial care for the rest of their lives. I'm not completely sure we did them a favor by saving their young lives.

We buried the fourth child in early September. His pelvis and legs had been crushed by falling masonry. His death was truly a blessing.

I had tried to keep Daniel from seeing the pit, but he insisted. He approached the edge and looked down. For a moment he stood transfixed and then I saw him begin to shake. I rushed to him, putting my arms about him. He turned away from the pit and buried his face in my chest. After a while he looked up at me with tears streaming down his cheeks and asked, "Why?"

I had no answer for him! I simply said, "I don't know, son. I just don't know." The look on his face was one I hadn't seen since the day Peter had unwrapped that small bundle we had found. And, I began to shake as well.

Colonel Lovett's orders were to take charge of the estate and the surrounding earldom and remain in place until a new Earl was named and was ready to accede. It would be some months until they could be fully withdrawn. Now firmly in control, their first priority was the care and feeding of the young slaves. The hired 'wardens' were rounded up and detained. Since they were all French citizens, they were swiftly deported.

Colonel Lovett chose nine young subalterns from his ranks, each to be responsible for a small group of slaves until the new Earl could engage qualified personnel. Six of them whose enlistments had nearly run elected to remain at Chartwell when the battalion withdrew. Given the title of 'squire', they suddenly had to become mother, father, nurse, boss and therapist to their young charges.

After living so long under threat of severe punishment… even the PIT… all the young slaves were terrified, their egos easily crushed. The squires had to treat them gently until they learned that life could be more than unlimited pain, exhaustion and sorrow. All of them were malnourished, full of welts and bruises. There were no serious injuries, however; the 'pit' had taken care of that.

The Guard's field kitchen solved the feeding problem by noon that first day. The food was not fancy by any means. But for half stared young boys, who had been fed nothing except gruel that wasn't fit to slop hogs, each meal was a banquet. And the first time the staff managed to make and serve ice cream, a gentle riot ensued. I have never seen so many young boys all cry at once with tears of joy

The slave barracks were declared uninhabitable, so the slaves and their new leaders were housed in squad tents until new quarters could be built. The Colonel's design… which the new Earl earnestly embraced… allowed each boy a small private space. It turned out to be a mixed blessing as the boys were used to sleeping in groups for comfort. But, once they got used to the notion, it did much to demonstrate 'caring' to the young slaves.

Almost all the work had to be done by the boys and their new leaders were cautioned treat each one with respect and use the months ahead to teach valuable skills. At the same time, they had to respect the energy levels of their young charges and not drive them to exhaustion. They kept them busy, working hard, but instilled a new pride in the boys. In turn, the boys looked up to them as their heroes. Traditional slave coverings were reintroduced and all the boys… but especially the older, more developed ones… felt much more comfortable no longer completely naked. They also were outfitted in warm winter clothing to be worn over their slave coverings once the weather grew cold.

Sexual liaisons between the slaves and Guard personnel were strictly prohibited. These boys were extremely vulnerable and ripe for exploitation. Hugs were permissible and freely given, but that was the absolute limit. To the great credit of the Guards, there was not a single case of impropriety.

A certain amount of sex-play among the boys was tolerated so long as there was no coercion. We had all feared overt sexual behavior within a large group of preteen and teen boys who had been sexually abused but starved for love might be a problem. After all, the only sex most of them had experienced was being raped, over and over again, by the 'wardens', Laval and even Nigel. We were wrong, and much of the credit belonged to the young squires who had to tread carefully. They encouraged and nurtured the nascent friendships the boys had formed and provided opportunities for them to express their love physically… without becoming involved themselves.

The young slaves were not always very discrete, however.

We had emptied the trash and junk from the former horse barn, but I was concerned by its sagging roof. So I had climbed into the rafters to see if there was major structural damage. I glanced down at the empty box stalls and was surprised to find one of them occupied.

By two of the young slaves who were supposed to be working.

The older of the two was, perhaps, twelve and his companion maybe a year younger. They had spread a blanket on the floor and were intent on enjoying each others budding bodies. They were so cute and had not heard me, so I decided to sit quietly and observe. They lay on their sides, facing each other with one hand busily working on each others little poles and the other stroking, squeezing and rubbing balls, nipples and other sensitive parts of each others anatomy. Occasionally the younger one giggled.

"Blimey! That feels so good!"

"Oh! Rub it right there! That's it!"

After a while, the younger one asked, "Do you want to do the other thing?"

"Ok, if you'll let me squirt in your mouth again." replied his partner.

"I don't mind. It don't taste bad. And you're my best friend, anyway. You do me first and then I'll do you."

In answer, his older partner leaned down, engulfed his hard prick in his mouth and began to bob his head up and down. The recipient of his attention began to squirm and pant. "OH! SHIT! THAT FEELS BRILIANT! DON'T STOP!" His body became rigid and I could tell he was just about at his peak. With a loud squeal, he thrust upward, forcing his prick into his partner's mouth and surrendered himself to his dry orgasm.

His friend watched as he collapsed back onto the blankets. "Don't make so much noise. Someone'll hear us."

"Too late for that," I thought.

"I'm sorry. I just couldn't stop it!"

"You like?"

"Oh, yessssss! It was awesome! Just like the last time, only better."

"You gonna do me?"

"Yeah!"

"You sure you want to let me squirt in your mouth?"

"Sure! Anyway, once I get you going you couldn't stop if you wanted to."

"Well, we'll see about that. I'll just hold back. No matter how hard you suck, I won't cum!" He spread his legs apart and the younger boy snuggled down between them and began to lick his friend's prick.

He threw his head back and began to breathe hard as he felt the warm lips around his boyhood and as his partner began to gently squeeze his balls. After a few minutes of this treatment, I saw the boy's legs go rigid and he screwed up his face and clenched his fists, trying valiantly to stave off his orgasm.

"I CAN'T STAND IT! I CAN'T HOLD IT! I'M GOING TO CUM! EEEEEEEEEEEE!" He reached down and forced his partner's head down, thrusting his prick deep into the boy's throat, nearly choking him, as he pumped his load into that warm, inviting cavern. For a while he lay as if unconscious.

To his credit, the younger boy had swallowed every bit of his friend's cream and he sat up with a smirk on his face, watching him float back to earth. "See! I told you. And there was lots more this time."

"What does it taste like?"

"A little salty. Here!" And he put his finger in his mouth, coated it and offered it to him.

The other boy tasted it, considered the unusual flavor for a moment and nodded. "I wonder if yours will taste the same when your balls start to make that stuff." His friend dissolved in giggles.

I wanted the chance to talk to the two boys, so I quietly climbed down and stood outside the door to their stall in time to hear the younger one ask, "Where'd you learn about all this neat stuff?"

"From Sammy. Before they put him in the pit."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"That's all right," sniffed the older boy. "He's gone now and you're my best friend."

I decided to intervene, so I pushed open the stall door. "Was it fun, guys?"

With a scream, they immediately went to their 'positions'.

"Please, Sir. Do it gently. Don't hurt me." pleaded the younger boy, tearfully.

"Do me!" cried the older one as he reached back and pulled his ass cheeks apart, "Billy's too little."

"Am not!" interrupted Billy, spreading his ass cheeks, too.

I examined their asses. Billy's little rosebud was pink and undamaged. His older companion's was red and inflamed. He had obviously been raped repeatedly. Sighing, I told them, "I'm not going to do that to you, boys, and neither will anyone else. Did it happen often?"

"Almost every day before the soldiers came."

"Well, it won't happen again! Ever! Now I want the two of you to sit up and listen. I want to talk to you. I have some questions I want to ask you and I want you to tell me the truth. Whatever you tell me I will not punish you. Understand?"

They sat up and nodded. Evidently I hadn't frightened them too much; they were still both hard as rocks. I took a few minutes to look them over carefully.

Judging from the few black hairs just above his quite adequate sexual equipment, the older boy was just on the brink of puberty. While both of them were still painfully thin, I could see the beginnings of adolescent development. With his raven hair, dusky skin and flashing black eyes, once his chest and the rest of his body filled out, he would be a very handsome young man.

Starvation had hidden many of the soft boy curves on the younger child, but he looked like a skinny blonde angel. Except for his head, he was completely hairless, but his boy parts were exceptional for a lad of his age. He saw me studying him and blushed.

I just hoped their long starvation diet had not caused any permanent harm to them or any of the young slaves.

"Will you tell me your name?" I asked the older boy.

"Daniel, Sir."

"Well, that's my son's name, too."

"Yes, sir. We know. He's our friend. All of us like him very much!"

"Daniel, has anyone tried to rape you… that's what it's called… since the soldiers came?"

"No sir."

I was relieved to hear that. "Does it still hurt?" I knew the answer to that question, but I wanted him to tell me, to trust me.

"Yes, sir. A lot sometimes."

"When we're done here, Daniel, I want you to go to the Guard Doctor. He'll give you some medicine to help your ass heal and take the pain away. Promise?"

"Yes, sir, I promise." He hesitated a moment and went on, "I guess what Billy and me were doing was wrong and you should punish us."

"Was it wrong for you to be in here having fun while all the other boys are working hard to make this a better place for you? Yes, it was. And it will be up to your Squire to punish you, so you are to go to him and tell him." They nodded.

"Was what you were doing wrong? Tell, me something. Do you love each other?"

"Yes, sir. He's like my little brother and I would do anything to make him happy!" replied Daniel.

"And I love him with all my heart," added Billy.

"Then what you were doing is fine. You were showing your love for each other. You just need to do it when you're not supposed to be working. And find a place that's private and you can be alone. Ask your Squire and if he can't find you a place, come to me and I'll find you one."

"You would do that for us, sir?"

"Absolutely. I remember when I was your age," I was thinking of the time Peter visited me while I was still a slave, "and how much Peter and I loved each other. I hope you will, too."

"Thank you sir!" they replied in unison.

"Right before I came in here, I heard you talk about a friend named Sammy and you said he was put in the pit. Will you tell me about it?"

"He, he, he…" gasped Daniel, as he started to cry and shake. I held out my arms and he fled into them.

I just held him quietly for a while. "If it's too painful for you, Daniel, you don't have to tell me," I assured him. But I had the strong feeling he needed to tell someone.

"No!" he rallied. "I want to tell you! I want you to know what they did to him! And to me!"

After a few moments, he suppressed his sobs and began, "We were good friends, him and me. One morning he discovered one of the wardens using me and he hit him. The warden hit him back and broke his nose and jaw. Then, they broke both his legs and threw him into the pit. They tied me to a pole at the edge of the pit and, and gagged me so, so I had to watch him die. I could hear him screaming and moaning and I wanted to help him, but I couldn't! I wanted to die, too, but they wouldn't let me. Every time I looked away, they whipped me."

My anger and sorrow almost overwhelmed me. What kind of monsters could do these things? If they ever caught Nigel, they had better keep him away from me!

Billy had listened, white-faced and frozen. He got up, took Daniel from me and just held him.

"I could hear him calling my name, 'Daniel! Help me!' But I couldn't even answer him!" the lad sobbed. "I just had to hang there and watch him suffer. Finally, the second day I managed to spit the gag out and I heard him calling me again. 'I'm here Sammy!' I yelled before the warden could gag me again. And right after that he died! But I couldn't help him!" he wailed.

"It took a lot of courage to tell me," I said.

"But I didn't help him, Sir! When he needed me most, I failed him!" His young body was wracked with remorse.

"Daniel, you gave him the gift he needed! You were there for him and he knew you cared. He could go to the next world in peace." Where had those words come from? Peter was the philosopher of our family. "You could not have done anything more for him. You told him you cared and that was what he needed."

"Do you really think so?" He looked up at me through his tears.

I nodded. He swallowed and continued, "After he died, they took me back to the barracks and all the wardens took me. I must have passed out 'cause the next thing I knew, I was in my bunk and an angel was telling me he wanted to be my friend."

"Daniel, you were hurt so bad and I just wanted to help you!"

"Billy, if it hadn't been for you I wouldn't have made it. Just being my friend and loving me helped me more than you can imagine."

"It's OK, sir." Daniel said, brightening. "I feel better now that someone else knows. I'll be all right now."

Ever since they had sat up, I had been studying Billy. Suddenly, it dawned on me why he looked familiar. "Were you ever punished on a rack with a whip?" I asked him.

"Yes, sir! How did you know?"

Remembering the terrible scene James and I had witnessed on our way to rescue Artie, I replied, "I saw it happening. But I couldn't stop it. I'm deeply sorry I couldn't. What were you being punished for?"

"Master made me suck him and I bit him. On purpose!"

Not a terribly smart thing to do, but I had to admire the boy. "Let me see your back."

He turned about and the evidence was there to see. The cuts had healed, but there would be scaring. "No one will ever do that to you again. Or to any of the boys," I promised him.

"Tell him about Squire Andrew spanking you," urged Daniel.

"I was bad one day last week and our Squire paddled me with his hand. It hurt, but afterward he hugged me and told me to be a good boy. I deserved the spanking; I was mean and nasty to one of the other boys. So, I think that's OK, because he loves us."

"Your ass was shiny red," teased Daniel.

And the two of them laughed.

"How are things since the soldiers arrived," I asked them.

"Very much better. We don't get beaten every day. Or made to do bad things."

"The pit is gone."

"We still have to work hard, but we get a whole day off every week! And, I'm learning to build things!"

"And we get enough to eat and the food is great," added Daniel. "And I'm even getting muscles!" He showed me his scrawny arm and flexed it.

"But the best thing is," Billy said softly, "we don't have to be afraid any more!"

For a few minutes, the three of us sat quietly. At last I said, "Thanks for talking with me, but you guys need to get back to work."

They rose, slipped back into their coverings and stated to leave, but Billy suddenly hurried back to me, threw his arms around me and said. "Thank you, sir! Thank you for saving us!"

After they left, I sat there and bawled like an infant. I cried for them. For all the young slaves who had been so abused. For Sammy and all the boys who ended their lives in the 'pit'.

Later that day, one of the Squires, Andrew, came to see me.

"I understand you had a chat with two of my troops this morning," he said.

"Yes. Did they tell you about it?"

"They did, Sir. They are both on garbage duty for the rest of the month for slacking off. And I made sure Daniel got his ass treated. I had missed checking for that so I better check the rest of them again. I guess rape was pretty common here from what they told me."

"Did he tell you about his friend, Sammy?"

Andrew didn't answer at first, but the calm, courageous expression of the soldier disappeared and, in it's place was another expression… one I had seen when the Nelsons first took me home and Peter held a mirror so I could see myself. "How," he wept, " could they have done that to him?"

"I don't know, Andrew," I told him.

"But Sir, he was a child! A little boy! I don't care if he was a slave or not. He deserved to be loved and cared for. Not made to die like that! What kind of monsters were they?"

"Unfortunately, our society treats slaves as if they were things to be used and then thrown away," I sighed. "All we can do is try to help our slaves through it and try to change that."

"Well, I intend to treat my boys like the kids they are! I will correct them when they are wrong, even spank them, if necessary. But I will not beat them and I will certainly not rape them. They need my love and I will try my best to help them know that I care about them."

"Good man!" I told him.

"Thank you, Sir. By the way, your Daniel gave me some help with one of my troops. He spent some time with the little tyke and he's much better. At least he doesn't run screaming in terror every time an adult approaches him. Your son seemed to know just what he needed. He's quite a boy, your Daniel is. But you already knew that," he told me.

"Yes," I chuckled, "but it's nice to have an outside opinion."

"Sir, I'd like to tell you something. My enlistment is up in another two months, and Colonel Lovett has given me permission to continue here when the battalion withdraws. I have a young lady back in Aberdeen and we're to be married when my enlistment is finished. We'd like to return and continue to help these kids."

"Pru says she wants a big family with lots of kids. Hell! I can give her twelve boys all at once and she won't have to wean the bairns either!"

With Squires like that, I knew Chartwell would be in good hands.

Artie was the acknowledged leader among the slaves. As Marcus's slave, his position among them was unique, but he never took advantage of it. He was simply one of the slaves; no more, no less.

While all of this swiftly played out, naming a new Earl was painfully slow. Peter and I made no secret whom we thought should be elevated. Prince Harry, too. The object of our promotion simply followed Colonel Lovett's directions and worked alongside everyone else. As did Peter, Daniel and I. But, it was clear the Colonel respected Marcus and was careful to consult him.

Finally, after some table pounding by both Prince Harry and the King, the peers got it right and Marcus was invested as the 12th Earl of Chartwell. Pretty good for a former London street urchin, right? At his investiture, Marcus reiterated his two goals: to restore Chartwell and to care for and move all the slaves along the road to freedom. But, he was a realist: one could not be accomplished without the other.

It was a new and different Marcus who accepted the title… strong, confident and purposeful. It was if he had trained for this responsibility all his life. I was gratified, of course, that perhaps I had had a hand in that. Peter assured me that Marcus was simply a product of the early training and example I had set. My take was that it was probably more the influence of Sir Robert.

Sir Marcus's great sorrow was that Timo was not there to share the moment with him. Our Daniel had done a lot to help Marcus over that hump: just holding him when sorrow overwhelmed him and assuring him that Timo looked down on him with love and approval. Both Peter and I were astounded at Daniel's understanding and desire to help Marcus whom he had known for only a few weeks.

We shouldn't have been! That's the way Daniel is! He could not have done any less.

We were initially a bit concerned how he would cope with the young slaves who might all seem to need his love and understanding all at once. But, he was astute enough to leave the slaves to the squires. They, in turn, quickly recognized he had a special talent and did call on him from time to time for help with a particularly difficult boy. In a short time, the slaves all looked up to him as their 'big brother' although he was actually younger than a few of them and only a few months older than many of them.

Both Peter and I had notified our respective bosses we would not return until late fall. With Dora Washington's intervention, Daniel would have his 'junior year abroad' as a high school freshman.

Work continued at a torrid pace. What our young slaves lacked in experience, they more than made up for in enthusiasm. Gardens were reestablished once more… it would be decades before they were fully restored to the grandeur that Sir Robert would have known, but at least the cannabis and other noxious plantings were relegated to the dump. We did have to discipline a few of the boys for trying to get high on the discarded weed, but they were simply being normal boys and we thought that a good sign.

The main house finally received some overdue repairs, at least enough to keep it from deteriorating further. We counted ourselves lucky that it was the scene of our only serious injury all summer. Except for the fact that the 'victim' was injured, what took place could have been invented by a comedian or cartoonist.

Two of the young teens were dispatched to replace some bricks on the top of the facade on a three-story wing that had a flat roof. Since they would need quite a few bricks, they rigged a simple derrick with rope and pulley to haul the bricks up to the roof. Using an old wooden packing case as a hopper, they worked out that half full was all they could haul at a time.

Finishing their repairs, they had a number of bricks left over, enough to fill the hopper three quarters full. After loading the hopper, one of the two went down to ground level to handle the ropes. He gave his co-worker the signal and he pushed the hopper off the roof.

The boy on the ground suddenly found himself jerked into the air as the bricks descended. Having held on to the rope too long, he wrapped his legs around it and continued upward banging painfully into the hopper coming down. He shortly reached the top where his fingers were jammed into the pulley.

The hopper, meanwhile, struck the ground, burst its bottom and released all the bricks. The boy, now being heavier, started down. He met the ruined hopper coming up and received additional painful contusions before landing on the pile of bricks. Almost unconscious, he finally let go of the rope and just had time enough to role into fetal position before the falling hopper crashed down on him.

In addition to numerous cuts and scrapes, he suffered broken ribs and spent the rest of the summer and fall in traction with a broken right leg. He was still on crutches in November when Peter and I were starting to plan our return to North America. The injury to the poor lad's pride was far more serious than his fractures, however.

But, by early fall, the new slave quarters were ready and the field kitchen was no longer needed. In fact, most of the Guards could now be withdrawn.

One day I casually asked Prince Harry where the money was coming from to finance all of this. The house and grounds had been stripped of all the statuary and art, Sir Robert's prize Hereford cattle had been sold off and most of the fields were now overgrown. He looked at me thoughtfully before answering.

"I'm providing it." he answered. He went on to answer my unasked question, "Robert was my friend." Suddenly I was ashamed for even asking.

Seeing my discomfort, he told me how he had come to meet Sir Robert and how the two of them had become friends.

"Grandmother, bless her heart, was determined to protect my brother and me at all costs while we were growing up, particularly after our parents were assassinated. We had virtually no friends our own ages and were quite literally prisoners in the palace. We were tutored until we went to University and never had the experience of living together with other boys."

"Robert's father was one of the few visitors she permitted and he always brought along his son and his young slave, Alfred. Grandmother had tried to convince us that we were somehow special and not like other boys. Even though he was some years older than William, Robert taught us we were not so special after all. That we were people, just like other people."

"He and Alfred taught us some things, too, that Grandmother would have been shocked and furious had she known. Robert was my first sexual partner when I was nine years old, and Alfred was William's. And, as a result of their instruction, William and I could, at least enjoy each others bodies. After adolescence, we simply remained good friends."

"I'm sorry, Sir. I should not have asked," I stammered.

"Yes, you should have," he replied, with a kind of smirk. "I would have been disappointed if you had not. Now you know why I was there to help him through that awful caning he was forced to give you. I assure you, we both felt the pain of every stroke. But I knew he would never forgive himself if he failed you."

Daniel had celebrated his 14th birthday that summer. He was now as tall as Peter and fully 50 pounds [ 23kg ] heavier. His shoulders had broadened, his chest filled out and all his soft, little boy curves had turned to muscle. With the humid conditions that summer, he had all but abandoned wearing clothes, opting instead for the simple genital covering the slave boys wore. His long hours outdoors had bleached his hair almost white and turned the rest of his body into polished bronze… a Michelangelo statue, a living, breathing Adonis. He could have made a fortune as a model! He still showed his love in bed every night, but us 'old men' were having a hard time keeping up with him.

Fall was soon upon us and winter was not far behind, and the three of us began to make preparations for our return to North America. It had been a busy and rewarding experience, but it was time for all of us to return to jobs and school.

One evening late in November, Daniel appeared just before we turned in evidently distressed about something. Something he wanted badly to share with us but didn't quite know how to begin. He stood with his head down staring at his feet, tears welling up in his eyes.

"What is it, son?" I asked him gently.

"I'm in love with someone," was his simple reply.

We had both seen it coming, but it was still an emotional time for us all.

"Why are you so distressed?"

"I didn't know how to tell you and I was afraid you might think I didn't love the two of you any more," came out in a rush.

Peter reeled him in and stood with his arms around him. "Daniel, it's wonderful you have found someone whom you love."

"And we know you will always love us," I added.

"But I thought… I was afraid… I mean!" he stammered.

"Is this the person you want to spend you life with?" I asked.

"Oh, yes," Daniel sighed. "It's something I want more than anything in the whole world!"

"If you truly are in love, he will be the most important person in your life. Even more important than Bobby and me. And we understand that and are very happy for you."

"But how can I love him so much and not love you less?"

"Your supply of love is infinite. You'll never run low." answered Peter. "Love is who you are, Daniel. Finding someone whom you truly love is the most beautiful thing God gives us. Some people never do and that is sad. But, for you, and others like you, it's the beginning of adulthood."

"But, I'm just…" he sniffed.

"You're not our little boy any more. You're a strong, brave, compassionate teenager who wants to think about his future, and now you've found someone to share it with." I said, remembering the time Peter and I had decided to be mates. "We will always be here for you and nothing would make us happier than for you and your mate to be happy and secure for your love for each other."

"Oh!" was all he could manage as he blinked away his tears.

"May we know who this wonderful person is?" I asked. Both Peter and I knew, but we needed to honor our trust in Daniel by letting him tell us.

"Artie!" he replied.

"No surprise, there," I chuckled.

"How did you know!" Daniel screeched.

"All you have to do is see the way you both look at each other," answered Peter.

"And the way you try to steal kisses when you think no one is looking," I added.

"You guys don't miss much, do you?" he joked through his tears. "And we thought we were being so careful!"

"You just finding that out?"

"No, you've always been able to understand and it's one of the things I love most about both of you. About Artie! Are you…?"

"He's a fine young man! You two have made a great choice, because you're a fine young man, too," I told him.

"And we couldn't be happier for you!"

He disentangled himself from Peter's arms, walked over to me and threw his arms around me. "Oh, Dad. How can I ever be worthy of such parent as you?"

"You are every day. You're our son and nothing will ever change that. We love Artie too, in a different way. How well I remember the brave boy the day I came here to try to rescue him. He is a magnificent choice!"

"Thanks, Dad."

"Have the two of you…?"

"Yes," Daniel sighed, blushing.

"And?"

"It was won-der-ful! Just like the first time I did it with you. He's so gentle and loving. And he needs me so very much."

"Thank you for telling us. Does Marcus know?"

"Yes, but, wait there's more!"

I suspected what he had been leading up to and a part of me dreaded it. I guess Peter and I would have to grow up a bit, too.

"I'd like to stay here at Chartwell."

"Because of Artie?" I asked.

"Yes, but there's more to it than that. Sir Marcus has offered me a position when my schooling is finished. He wants me to be his Seneschal. May I stay?"

"Daniel, that's a great opportunity for you and we would never say no. We will miss you very much, but we'll always be family. And Artie, too. Go for it!" It was my turn to tear up.

"He'd like to announce it at the meeting tomorrow."

We both nodded.

And, then I had an idea. "Peter and I haven't been camping for a while. Why don't we take our sleeping bags out to the barn? The hay is fresh and…"

"And since we're not going to be here," said Peter catching on, "why don't you invite Artie to share your bed?"

"You mean it?" Daniel squealed. And he almost launched himself into Peter's arms. If he had, he would have flattened him. Instead we had a group hug in the middle of the room.

Peter and I pulled on some sweats, gathered our sleeping bags from the closet and hiked through the crisp night to the barn. And there we made love like we had not done for a long, long time. We felt like young boys again!

The next morning, a very happy Daniel and Artie greeted us. Artie excused himself, gave us each a warm hug and headed off to his morning chores. Daniel just sat contentedly in my lap.

As I sat there with my arms about him, I thought back to the time Peter and I had rescued a terrified and emaciated little boy from the rubbish heap. What a magnificent young teen he had become! If he had truly been God's gift to us… as Dora Washington claimed… Peter and I had been honored above all other honors. I leaned down and we kissed full on our lips.

Marcus had called a meeting of the entire company for after lunch that day. He had said he felt the need to reassure everyone and he had some important announcements to make. It would be held in the 'Great Hall' of the house. There was a small platform at one end and Daniel, Peter and I were directed to sit in the chairs to Marcus's left.

The slave groups with their squires drifted in. The boys shed their sweats and sat in just their slave coverings while an excited buzz went around.

Peter had insisted Daniel put on some 'regular' clothes for the occasion. We suddenly realized he had nothing to fit. Squire Andrew came to our rescue and the three of us were appropriately clothed.

Sir Marcus entered from the rear and stepped onto the platform. All the slaves immediately went to their positions of respect, all chattering ceased.

"Thank you, young slaves," Marcus greeted them. "Now I want you all to sit up and listen carefully as I have some important things to tell you." They all sat up and, once again, the hall was silent.

"First, I wish to introduce you to a new member of our family, Beth, will you please come in and meet everyone?"

A tall, dark-haired woman took her place beside Marcus. He took her hand and announced, "May I present Elizabeth von Furstenburg Crowell, Lady Chartwell. Yes, while the rest of you were working so hard last August, I sneaked off and got married!"

The hall echoed with applause. I knew he had been seeing her… she was a neighbor's daughter… but I hadn't realized it was that serious. Good lad!

Marcus continued, "She has been living with her parents until I could make a suitable place here. Now you know, Spencer, why I was so adamant that bedroom be finished."

"Yes, Sir!" answered one of the Squires. "My boys and I hope it is to your liking, ma'am."

"It's lovely!" she answered. "And I am so happy to be here and am very happy with the welcome you have just given me. I hope to know each of you before long. I don't have much experience at being a mother, so perhaps we can be just good friends." And once again the hall shook.

"Well, she will shortly be a mother, as some of you may have observed," Marcus informed them. "Twin boys, we're told. We intend to name them Robert and Timothy." This time the hall was silent in tribute. I could see the tears in his eyes.

After a moment, he continued. "When I spoke to you all at my investiture, I said I had two goals."

"The first was to restore Chartwell to once more be a place of beauty and comfort. I want each of you to know how deeply, deeply I appreciate the efforts you have all made starting realize that goal. There is much to be done, probably years of work, but we can all be thankful the no one will go hungry or suffer from the cold this winter. All of you have met Mr. Cartright and I am sure you realize how important it has been to have him handling much of the day to day affairs of the estate and the earldom. But, you have been the ones who had made progress possible, and I thank you from my heart." There was a contented stirring.

"I also pledged to care for each of you, heal you and move all of you slaves along the path to freedom. I want you to know I have been truly amazed at your devotion. So much so that, when our sons are of sufficient age, they will join you. It is my belief that living and succeeding as slaves will be one of the most important life lessons they can receive."

Most of the slaves sat with a shocked expression. He was going to enslave them? His own children? But a few nodded in agreement. They knew what he was trying to do.

"But what about the pledge to lead you towards freedom? I'm sure each of you is asking,'Will I be a free boy?' I fully expect each of you will one day stand as a free citizen and subject of our sovereign William."

The buzz increased.

"You have already learned and continue to learn, essential lessons every free person needs: the value of hard work and pride in your accomplishments. The skills needed to build and raise your own food and shelter. The value of friendship and of service to others without remuneration."

Some of the boys may not have quite understood everything Marcus was telling them but they knew about hard work, friendship and sacrifice.

"But active, productive citizenship requires another kind of learning… the lessons learned in school. To that end, beginning in January, you will each spend half of every workday in school, but you will still have one day a week for rest and fun. With the help of the Ministry of Education and a boost from His Royal Highness, Prince Harry, we're going to staff and open a primary school and we will add an upper school as needed. Many of you have never been to school and will start at the beginning. If you have had some schooling, you will pick up where you left off. I believe that education is the final key to your freedom."

"Your next question is, I'm sure, 'When will I be free?' And the answer is when your squires and teachers are sure that you are ready. But it is my goal that each of you… if not before… will be granted your freedom before your graduation from upper school."

The excitement in the room was electric, as the slaves began to understand what Marcus was offering. But there was more!

"Following upper school, each of you will be able to study at the University or Trade School of your choice so you will have a profession that you can pursue here in the earldom or elsewhere."

That announcement was greeted with a shocked silence. But, as they began to realize full extent of his pledge to them, the hall erupted in bedlam. They hugged each other and applauded and whistled their thanks. It was not slave discipline, at all.

But no one seemed to care!

And suddenly, as if by a signal, each of the slaves, joined by their squires, bowed to Sir Marcus with their foreheads touching the floor. Marcus was speechless.

After some minutes, order… or at least a semblance of order… was restored. "I'm not quite finished yet!"

"Arthur Sommerfield, where are you? Ah! Please come up here."

Artie rose, his eyes wide, and made his way to the platform where he immediately went to his position.

"Artie, please stand up as I have something to tell you."

He rose with a mixture of hope and apprehension on his face. "Master, what is it?"

"Arthur Sommerfield, that is the last time you will ever kneel to me as your Master. For you are now a free boy. I signed the papers this morning." And he reached out and took the boy into his arms.

All Artie could do was stammer as the hall once more erupted in pandemonium. Here was living proof that Sir Marcus absolutely meant what he had said.

"There's more, Artie. Beginning tomorrow, you will study with Mr. Cartright. And, when your schooling is finished, I want you to become my Marshall and Steward."

This was more than Artie cold take! He simply clung to Marcus bawling, "Thank you! Thank you!" over and over while the assembly showed its boisterous approval. Eventually, Artie took his dazed seat next to Beth, who put her arm around his shoulders.

"Bear with me a bit longer while I say 'thank you' to a few others," continued Marcus.

"I need not tell you how so very important Robert and Peter Nelson and their son Daniel have been to our success. No one has worked harder, given more of themselves to all of us. They will soon leave us to return to their lives in North America and we will miss them terribly," A loud collective groan greeted this statement.

"But not all of them!"

That caught everyone's interest.

"Daniel is going to remain with us and complete his schooling here. That is, if we can find some clothes that will fit him." A prolonged chuckle swept his audience. "And, starting tomorrow, he, too, will study with Mr. Cartright. For, when he has completed his studies, he will become my Seneschal."

The reaction from the assembly was immediate and went on for some time.

"Daniel," Marcus finally made himself heard, "I understand you have another reason for wishing to remain here?"

In answer, Daniel gave Peter and me a quick hug, walked over to where Artie still sat in a daze, pulled him to his feet and hugged the living daylights out of him. Artie responded in the only appropriate way, and kissed him deeply.

I can't tell you exactly what I felt.

Sadness? Yes.

Hope? Of course.

Love? Absolutely.

I turned to Peter and said, "No, he's not our little boy any more!"

Peter, ever the philosopher, nodded and said, "Yes, he belongs to all of us. To the world!"

I laughed. "Look out world! Here comes Daniel!"

The End?

Well, not quite!