Maiocxx

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

5
Daniel in the Lion's Den

1. Chartwell

But both Artie and I 'hung in there' and before we could realize it, ten years had slipped by. My dads and granddads spent every summer with us and had become honored members of our 'family'.

All of the original sixty-two slaves that Sir Marcus had inherited had now 'graduated' and were off at University or Technical school or pursuing professions. As they had moved on, new slaves had been gradually acquired, keeping the complement at about sixty – five Squads of twelve slaves, each with its own Squire and living quarters.

Sir Marcus and Lady Elizabeth both had enthusiastically embraced Sir Robert's dream that Chartwell would be a place of refuge for battered and abused young boys who had been swept up by the slave system. With love and care, they would still be slaves, but ones with a future as free citizens of Great Britain. All the other products the estate produced would be simply means to that end.

We took the ones no one else wanted; young boys who would probably have perished at the hands of cruel masters or in the mines if not for Chartwell. They came from court imposed slave schools or directly from the streets of London, Manchester or other large cities, and a few were purchased directly from abusing owners. They usually arrived frightened to death, often after a court mandated caning. Was it any wonder their first sobbing statements usually were, "Please don't hurt me any more!"

The other slaves counted it as a matter of personal honor to show the newcomers what Chartwell meant to them and could mean to these latest arrivals. After their initial shock wore off… they would have to work hard but they weren't going to be routinely beaten and abused… they quickly became enthusiastic members of the 'family'. Elizabeth was 'mother' to them all, but particularly to the newest ones.

True to his pledge, Marcus was adamant that his sons should know what it meant to be enslaved and earn their right to freedom just like the others. So, a few evenings after they celebrated their ninth birthdays, Elizabeth kissed them for what she was afraid might be the last time and sent them off to their father.

The twins had attended school with the slave boys and were intrigued by the bond the slave boys had with each other, particularly those within each slave's own Squad. While the slaves treated Robert and Tim with courtesy, they were always 'outsiders'. Little did they dream they were about to become 'insiders' in the most direct way. When they were very young, they sometimes had had nightmares about being forced to be slaves.

When they entered his office, they found their father and one of the Squires waiting for them. Artie and I had been asked to be present as witnesses.

The Squire was Andrew, our most experience one and I had suggested him to Marcus. We gave all the most difficult 'cases' to Andrew and his lovely wife, Prudence. They knew we did that, but never failed us, counting our assignments as high praise.

The twins entered the room and stood puzzled, glancing about at all the solemn faces. They could tell something big was about to happen.

"Boys," began Marcus, "today marks a very important change in your lives. Tell me. What do you know about our slaves?"

Thoroughly rattled, it was a moment before either of them could reply. "Well, they have to work very hard," offered Robert.

"And they don't wear clothes, only those little things that cover their boy parts," added his brother.

"And they have to do whatever their Squire tells them even if they don't want to. Or they get punished."

"Do you think they are happy?" asked their father.

"I guess so," replied Tim. "But they have a pretty hard life."

"Well, you are about to find out how hard."

"What do you mean, Father?"

"Today, you are going to become one of them."

"What do you mean? Are we going to be slaves, too?" Robert asked in panic."

"Yes."

"Why? What did we do?" asked Tim, starting to cry.

"It's nothing you have done. You are not being punished. Your mother and I want you to serve just like all the other boys and earn your right to be free persons."

"Don't you love us anymore?" they wailed.

"We will always love you," their father tried to assure them. But they weren't hearing him. Their childish nightmares were about to come true!

"Why are you doing this to us?" they wailed in unison.

"Someday you will understand, but for now, because it is best for you."

"No it's not!" they sobbed.

"Please stop your crying and take off all your clothes."

"Why?" they shrieked.

"Just do it," commanded their father. When they were naked, he directed them to get on their hands and knees and press their foreheads to the floor.

"You are now Class Two Slaves and will be so until and unless your master frees you. I am your 'Master' and you must not call me 'father' anymore and you must call your mother 'Mistress'. You may not rise until I tell you and you may not speak without permission from me or your Squire. You must obey your Squire at once or you will be punished."

"But father," they sobbed, looking up at him with tears gushing down their cheeks.

"SILENCE! I did not give you permission to speak. Well, Squire, how shall we punish these miserable slaves who are disobedient.?"

"Well, Sir, I was going to give them their slave coverings," answered Andrew, "but I think they will remain completely naked for the rest of the week. Let everyone see how disobedient they have been."

That was horrible the twins both thought. Everyone would see them naked! Would see their 'thingies'. At that thought, they both sprang boners.

"You may rise." Marcus directed them.

They did so, desperately trying to cover themselves with their hands. "Unless you are carrying something or working in school, you are to keep your hands clasped behind your neck at all times," instructed Andrew. Both boys turned a deep shade of red. "Come on," he said to them. It's time for bed."

As he began to lead them away, Robert turned to his father. "You don't love us anymore and I HATE YOU!"

Andrew shook his head. "Still talking without permission. You're just going to have to learn the hard way!" And he led the two crying boys off to their new quarters and their new life.

After they had gone, Marcus sighed deeply and told Artie and me, "I had you come tonight so I couldn't back out at the last minute! I almost couldn't do it! They looked so sad, it broke my heart."

"They'll get over it," I counseled him. "You and Timo did."

"I suppose you're right. I'd better go and comfort Beth. She's lost her little boys. She won't have them to cuddle any more. I'm not sure she agrees with all this."

"She will," I assured him.

The following morning, Squire Andrew reported, "They were screaming their heads off… I didn't think they knew such words… so I gave them both a good spanking last evening before I put them to bed. But Pru and I both think they're neat kids and we're looking forward to working with them."

They were tattooed and formally registered as slaves with Marcus as their owner… a decision that would prove to be a mistake. "I'll say this for them," reported Andrew. "They didn't cry when they were tattooed. I know how much that hurts."

Naked the twins were and naked they would have to be in school and everywhere else. In front of everyone, including the teachers. The other slaves teased them unmercifully. In their exposed state, walking and sitting with their hands clasped behind their necks, they were easy prey for quick grabs of their boy parts. The other slaves were cautioned, but boys will be boys. They would never have done anything to hurt the twins physically; the assault on their pride was another matter. Their treatment was designed to 'break' them… have them thoroughly understand their life had fundamentally changed. Both of them agreed later that having to be fed by one of the other slaves like an infant, was the absolute worst punishment they could have been given.

But every day was a struggle.

They balked at doing the simplest chores until threatened with additional 'naked' time. They were rude and abusive to the other slaves and even their teachers. Squire Andrew's attempts to teach them slave courtesy and discipline were somewhat futile; they had to be continuously forced into their 'positions of respect'. The other slaves in their Squad ignored them; their Master and Mistress would not speak to them. Artie and I, likewise, ostracized them. Their teachers were exasperated with them. In fact, the only adult who seemed to have any interest at all in their fate was Andrew… just as we had planned.

Two more thoroughly miserable slaves were hard to imagine. Since they were not allowed to speak without permission, they could not even console each other.

Their refusal to do their share of the work assigned to them was dragging the Squad down. That came to a head one day when the entire Squad was punished for not properly weeding the garden which supplied most of our fresh vegetables. That night, after Andrew wisely withdrew, their squad-mates decided to take matters into their own hands. Andrew knew this would likely happen, but he decided to trust them.

Robert and Tim were roughly hauled out of their exhausted sleep and tied standing to the poles in their sleeping area. The entire Squad faced them with anger written on all their faces; frightening them to the point they peed themselves. The oldest boy in the Squad, a burly teenager, spoke for the group.

"You twits need to stop being crying sissies and grow up!" he began. "You're not the Master's kids anymore! You are slaves! Just like the rest of us! And you're hurting our whole Squad! You either start to be a real member of this Squad, or we're going to beat the shit out of you!" He had no intention whatever of doing that, but Robert and Tim didn't know that. They were thoroughly terrorized.

"You can start being real slaves right now. You might even get to enjoy it." And they turned out the lights, leaving them standing there, naked and tied to the poles. It was almost dawn before they managed to slip the ropes and crawl back into their bunks. Their first chore in the morning would be to clean up their pee.

Andrew sent the rest of the Squad off to finish their weeding, and told the twins to wait for him in their 'positions' in the Squad's common room. He left them that way for over an hour, time for their bodies to ache.

"You may sit up and speak," he finally told them. "Did your squad-mates make clear what they think of your behavior?"

"Yes," they admitted, looking down at their feet.

"Look at me when I speak to you!"

The boys raised their heads and looked into Andrew's grim face. "What kind of slaves do they think you are?"

"Little sissy boys," replied Tim.

"Are you?"

"I guess we have been," Robert replied.

"What are you going to do about it?"

Robert made his decision. "We have to accept that we are slaves and start behaving."

"We don't understand why we were made slaves," his brother added, "but we have to trust our Master. We've let him down and let you down."

"And let ourselves down," added Robert.

"Smart boy," thought Andrew. He held out his arms and invited them. Safe in his warm embrace, they sniffed a bit as he comforted them. "You've had a rough time, I know. It's not been easy leaving behind two very loving parents. But, it's not too late. You can still be part of this Squad. You can still earn the respect of your mates. It's up to you. Just remember, Pru and I love you too." Giving each one more hug, he sent them off to the vegetables.

When he recounted to me what had transpired, he finished by saying, "I think they're over their bloody hump. They're really great kids; they just don't quite understand that right now. They're going to make it!"

"Was there ever any doubt?" I asked him. "Look at who their Squire is!"

"Thank you, Sir. Your trust means a lot to Pru and me, especially since she lost the baby."

And Andrew was right on! The twins soon became willing workers and learners, even though the other boys were not quite ready to accept them. One thing was missing and they knew what it was.

About a week later, Andrew reported, "They came to me just after supper."

"Please, Squire," they pleaded, "we would like to apologize to the others."

"I agreed and assembled the Squad in our common room. They stood in front of the others and Robert said, 'Tim and I want to tell you how bad we feel about how we acted when we were made slaves. We understand why you are angry with us.' And then Tim added, 'We know now that this Squad is our family and we hope you will be our friends.'

"They stood there with tears in their eyes, trying very hard not to cry. 'What about it? Are you willing to give them another chance? They've been pretty good workers this week. Are you willing to be their friends?' I asked the Squad."

"Sam, the one who had threatened to beat them up, stepped forward. 'I want you to both know we would never have beaten you. If we had, we would all be guilty of the worst thing we can imagine. And, yes, I will be your friend if you will be mine.' And he walked over to them and shook hands with them. One, by one, the other nine did likewise. At that moment, our problem was solved. They're a neat bunch of kids, don't you think?"

"I keep telling you why!" I told him.

"Thank you sir," Andrew blushed. "But I think you and Artie deserve some credit, too."

It was almost a month later when, one evening, Andrew brought Robert and Tim to see me. Both the slaves went to their 'positions' as soon as they entered my office.

"Sir, these two slaves have asked for something special and I wasn't sure if it was proper," said the Squire.

I nodded. "Stand up, boys and tell me what you want."

"Daniel Sir," answered Robert, "we would like to tell Master and Mistress how bad we feel about what we said and did when they made us slaves."

I was surprised and pleased. "I think that's a great idea," I told the three of them. "Let me see if they are available,"

A few minutes later we entered the family room… the twins hadn't been in the house since they had been enslaved… and Sir Marcus rose to greet us. The twins immediately went to their 'positions', and Marcus looked concerned. "Have they done something wrong?" he asked.

"No Sir," replied Andrew. "They have something they want to tell you. Some unfinished business with their parents. I've given them permission to call you Mother and Father; I hope that's ok."

Marcus looked at Andrew and then at me, but I just smiled. He reached over to Elizabeth, took her hand and, turning back to the kneeling boys, he said, "All right, you may rise and speak."

"F-f-f-father," began Robert, "we were hateful and wrong to talk and act like we did. We didn't understand."

"But we do now!" added Tim. "We understand why you did it and we are sure you were right. We know it must have hurt you awful to do it."

"But we are part of Squire Andrew's Squad and the other slaves are our friends. And we know you still love us forever and ever!" finished Robert.

Both parents caught their breath and I could see tears in Elizabeth's eyes. "I think a parental hug and kiss might be ok," I suggested. No further invitation was needed.

After the slaves had been dismissed, Andrew got a hug and kiss from Elizabeth, before she withdrew, probably to weep a bit.

Marcus turned to me. "You didn't put them up to this did you?"

"No Sir," I chuckled. "I am not a bloody magician." I could tell he was ashamed to have even asked me that.

"Andrew," said Marcus, "it was a very fortunate day when you decided to stay with us,"

"Thank you sir. I don't think Pru and I could ever be happy anywhere else. We love these kids with all our hearts and want them to succeed. Pru can't have children, so these boys are our family. I hope Pru and I continue to merit your trust."

"Trust! I would trust you and your lovely wife to take our sons to the lower regions of hell if you thought they needed to go there. So long as you brought them back again, that is."

The three of us laughed, but then Marcus turned serious. "I feel much better that we did the right thing for them. And I know Beth does, too. And, most importantly; the boys know it too." Andrew and I said our good-nights and withdrew.

Over the years, gradually, Sir Marcus, Artie and I had agreed on certain principles that governed how the young slaves were treated. Particularly as it pertained to discipline and punishment. We would never withhold food or a warm, safe place for them. Or medical treatment. Or warm winter clothing to be worn over their slave coverings when outside weather demanded it. But other privileges could be withheld. Such as Commissary.

One of the things we learned from our first 'graduates' was something that had been missed in their education. Except in very, very rare circumstances, newly freed slaves had never learned how to handle money. They had had none and had needed none… until they suddenly found themselves free and responsible for their own lives. They were often prey to unscrupulous persons who led them astray. Our boys were no exceptions.

So, we devised what we called 'the Commissary'.

After their first six months in our program, each slave was paid a small daily salary. Each had to keep his own account book recording all his transactions, in and out. At the Commissary, he could purchase very limited quantities of candy and other small snacks and small games and books. The latter were priced so the buyer had to be willing to save up for them and, once purchased, had to be shared with the rest of his Squad.

I had introduced computers to the estate, This provided our older boys with some practical experience using them and I soon recruited a number of 'clerks' who helped both Artie and me with the bookkeeping for the estate. By 'pooling' their funds a Squad could earn their own computer installed in their common room.

We restricted the slaves' access to the Internet, but they were free to use their Squad's computer for academic purposes. As we got more adept, we loosened the strings for the upper school students so they could use the Internet for both research and games. I'm sure some 'porn' was sometimes enjoyed, too. After all, these were healthy adolescent boys.

A number of the boys who showed aptitude were given special computer training and were soon quite competent to maintain our systems. On a rotating basis, upper school boys managed the Commissary, too… another learning experience.

From a disciplinary standpoint, our young workers could be 'fined' for minor offenses or even have their commissary privileges suspended for a period of time. Still another benefit.

Corporal punishment was forbidden… with the one exception I finally agreed to.

A bare-bottom hand spanking could be administered by the slave's Squire… and only his Squire… for breaches of behavior, but it was always to be followed by a comforting hug. The arrangement worked very well.

The most serious offense, in our opinion, was a physical confrontation between two of our boys. Every one of them was taught how to protect themselves and their home and were ready to apply that knowledge if required. But, they were also taught how to resolve disputes without physical force; those were skills that would be very important when they became free. Not everyone would graciously receive them into free society.

But a physical fight between two of our boys was not acceptable… nor would a similar confrontation be in free society. But boys will be boys and they happened from time to time and both participants were punished equally. They knew what the penalty was and being lured into a fight was just as destructive as provoking one.

Bullying was not generally a problem. Even the most aggressive bully soon tired of being completely ignored by everyone. In a few instances Artie or I had to step in when ostracism failed, but they were rare. Each squad soon demonstrated they could 'take care of their own' in most cases.

The ultimate punishment was, of course, expulsion. On only two occasions was that even considered; it would have been a serious blot on our psyches. Fortunately, it never happened; just the threat was enough to cause the most hardened slave… and some of them came to us in grave shape… to rethink his life.

But, for more serious offenses… like fighting… the most effective punishment was what came to be called 'naked time'. The slave was stripped completely naked and his hands were cuffed either behind his neck or behind his back. That meant he could not use his hands for anything, including normal body functions.

All the slaves had quickly lost their body embarrassment since they were normally dressed in the very skimpy slave garments which covered their genitals and nothing more. In fact, most of them were proud to show off their developing bodies.

But having to appear completely naked and restrained in front of everyone: other slaves, teachers, squires and Artie and me as well as Sir Marcus and Elizabeth… that was another matter. It was particularly galling for older boys who had entered puberty. And having to be fed, bathed, and their ass wiped by another member of their Squad simply added insult to injury. At mealtimes he had to stand throughout the meal and was fed after everyone else had eaten with the whole company watching.

It also meant the slave could not assist with the work assignments. While his Squad members may have had some sympathy for his predicament, it did not endear the miscreant to the rest of them. He was also vulnerable to teasing… verbal and physical… by the other slaves although we were careful to limit such treatment. The result was a situation that no slave looked forward to and certainly did not want to repeat. It could only be imposed by Sir Marcus, Artie or me and was highly effective.

One morning Marcus came to my office and sat down with a thoughtful expression on his face. "I've asked Artie to join us. I have something I need your guidance on." Artie arrived a few minutes later and Marcus continued, "I have received a request for assistance from our neighbor to the north, Baron Rothchild."

"Him?" interjected Artie. "After all the trouble he has given you in the House of Lords? He has a lot of nerve."

"Yes, but I see an opportunity to turn an enemy into a friend. And it involves two young boys and their father who are about to be destroyed unless we aid them."

That got our attention.

"The Baron and his wife had twin boys and their mother died shortly after they were born. Rothchild freely admits that he ignored the children and refused to nurture them. The result is, at age nine, they are completely out of control. Violent, disobedient, full of obscenities. So much so that the court has stepped in and terminated his parental rights, after they assaulted and gravely injured another child while trying to rob him. They have been sentenced to Class Three Slavery."

"Rothchild went to the Chief Law Lord and begged for them. Lord Hume agreed he would consider it if Rothchild found someone who was willing to take them and turn them about. He suggested us. Do you think we could turn them about?"

"Sir," I asked, "do you think the court is baiting us?"

"Oh, absolutely! Hume would like nothing better than for us to fail or refuse. But, my question remains; can we turn them about?"

Artie and I looked at each other and he smiled sadly. I knew exactly what he was thinking. "Sir, two of Squire Andrew's boys have just gone off to Leeds (College). If anyone can bring them around and civilize them, I'd put my money on Andrew."

"Then, you think we should agree to take them?" asked Marcus.

"Sir, I think Andrew needs to be part of this decision," I cautioned.

"Quite right! Please send for him."

Andrew arrived a few minutes later and Marcus reiterated what he had told us. Andrew chuckled. "Sounds like a challenge!"

"Andrew," I chided him goodnaturedly, "You would say that if I sent Satan himself to you."

"Yes, but I might need your help with that one," he replied.

"I hope you don't think this is some sort of lark," said Marcus.

"No, Sir, I don't," replied Andrew. "I can well imagine the importance of this assignment and Pru and I are honored."

"Who do you have in mind to mentor them?" I asked. I thought I knew what his answer would be.

"I'm sure you can guess."

"Now, wait a minute. This is much too big a task for Robert and Tim. You can't…"

"With all due respect, Sir," Andrew interrupted, "that is my decision, not yours."

Marcus sighed and nodded.

"If it will make you feel better, I chose them because they need a new challenge. It strikes me quite the same as when Bobby took on you and Timo. Your sons have become the best slaves I have ever had. Even though they are not the oldest or most experienced boys in my Squad, there is no question they are the leaders the others look up to. And it has nothing to do with the fact they are your sons. The have earned the trust of the others by dint of hard work and leadership. They will do well, trust me."

He had been a bit outspoken, but that was one of the things about him that both Artie and I treasured.

The two Rothchild boys were delivered the next day, bound and gagged and firmly confined in slave transfer cages. They were fat and slovenly; a few weeks of hard work would cure them of that.

As soon as we removed their gags, they began spouting off, so Andrew directed the crew to put their gags back in, telling them, "When you can speak in a polite and civilized manner, the gag will come out. And not before."

They subsided and we released their bonds.

Robert and Tim had stood in the background eying their new charges, looking rather scared and unsure they could live up to our expectations. While the bonds were being removed, I gripped Robert and Tim's hands and told them, "Don't be afraid, guys. You will do fine. Just remember how you felt and were treated when you first became a slave."

"We will do our best," replied Robert.

"I know your will and you will succeed, I'm sure. I know it won't be easy."

Andrew called them over to where the two new slaves stood glowering at him. "Donald and Douglas, these are Robert and Tim. They are your bosses and you will obey them instantly and without question. They have full authority to punish you if you disobey."

"If you think we're going to be fucking slaves," blurted Donald, "you're daft!"

"Ain't no way we're gonna listen to two fucking goodie boys!" added his twin.

"Well, guys," Andrew told them, "you have a choice to make. You can either stay here and have enough to eat and a roof over your heads and try to learn how to behave and make something of yourselves instead of fat sissies and bullies or you can spend the rest of your short, miserable lives breaking rocks in a mine somewhere." He looked them up and down. "You sissy boys wouldn't last a week in a mine. So you better make your choice NOW! You have used up my store of patience and I'm almost ready to beat your asses raw."

Like most bullies, when confronted, their bluster deflated like a pricked balloon, and they stood quietly crying while Robert and Tim put their slave coverings on them. Taking them by the arms, they led their new slaves off to their quarters.

"That was a good imitation of 'bad cop'," Artie told Andrew.

"Yeah, I thought I'd let the boys be 'good cop'. This is going to be interesting."

As Robert and Tim later told me, the next several weeks were the most difficult they ever could remember, even worse than their first few weeks as slaves. They did manage to melt most of the fat off them, but their behavior was anything but good. Until they were threatened with a spanking, they usually refused to do the work they were assigned. Even then, they labored grudgingly. The natural color of their asses seemed to be bright red; Andrew continued in his 'bad cop' role and let Robert and Tim dispense comfort and caring. I often observed our boys holding each other and weeping quietly in frustration and I wondered if we had expected too much from them. But Andrew assured me they would triumph in the end.

One Monday afternoon, the Squad was stacking hay bales in the barn and I pulled Andrew away to discuss the situation. We had barely started to talk when we both heard shouts and curses coming from the work area.

We dashed in to find Robert and Donald rolling on the floor in vicious combat and Tim pummeling Douglas as the rest of the Squad cheered them on.

As soon as we had appeared, the uninvolved boys went to their 'positions' and Andrew and I separated the combatants, who sat with heads down. Aside from a few red marks on the Rothchild boys, there didn't seem to be any serious injuries. "Want to tell me about this?" I asked Robert.

"There's nothing to tell," he replied. "I let him goad me into a fight. I know better! I have no excuse!" All four of them knew what the penalty was for fighting.

"Well, he hit me first," mumbled Donald. That proved to be a lie, but no matter. They would be punished right along with Robert and Tim.

It was almost supper time so Andrew sent them all to the showers. I told him I would pass judgment after supper, so it was a quiet and subdued Squad at their evening meal. Andrew had forbidden them to talk to anyone. The other squads knew something was up, but we didn't enlighten them.

Before I went to meet with the Squad, I corralled Robert and Tim. "I know you didn't start the fight, but…"

"How did you know?" asked a tearful Robert.

"Because that's not your way. But you know I must punish you along with Donald and Douglas."

"Yes," said Tim. "We know." They both knew what the punishment would be. "Maybe they will learn something from this."

"We are failing!" cried Robert.

"No, you're not, guys. You've had a little setback, that's all. Andrew and I have faith in you."

They each gave me a hug and went off to join their mates.

When I entered their quarters, all the boys were sitting on their bunks as I had asked Andrew. "Robert, Tim, Donald and Douglas, please come and stand before me." They stood with their heads hanging. "You have been guilty of fighting. You all know that is not acceptable. You have been taught other ways of resolving your differences." They nodded. "Today is Monday. You will spend the rest of the week in 'naked time'."

The entire group gasped, including Andrew. They had expected a day or two, but five days? Andrew left to get four pairs of cuffs and the four stood waiting. The Rothchild twins started to weep, but Robert and Tim stood dry-eyed. Robert caught my eye and I saw a nod; he understood what I was about.

Andrew returned and we swiftly stripped the four and restrained them… Donald's and Douglas's hands behind their necks and Robert's and Tim's behind their backs. We would switch off every other day.

Andrew and I then left to allow the rest of the Squad to sort out who would help their punished mates with toilet. In a short while all was quiet and we looked in. All twelve were in their bunks although there probably would not be much sleep that night.

Andrew and I had a short discussion. "Isn't five days a bit severe?"

"No, we have had too much fighting lately and I want to send everyone a message. I'll let Artie know so he can adjust your work schedule. Thankfully, it's summer and we don't have to worry about school." Andrew nodded and I bid him goodnight.

There was great consternation the next morning when four boys appeared for breakfast in 'naked time'. There was quite a bit more when I announced the cause and the length of the sentence. There were some startled Squires, too. But they figured out what message I was sending and would use it to reinforce their own teaching.

So, Andrew and his minions stumbled through their first day. Despite their nakedness, Robert and Tim walked with pride; they were being justly punished and they wanted everyone to know that. Donald and Douglas shuffled along with their heads down in shame. When I told Sir Marcus what had happened, he gave me a hard look, but did not comment.

Wednesday was equally hard, but that evening Andrew summoned me. "The Squad has something they want to tell you. I know what it is, but I promised to let them tell you." I looked at him quizzically, but entered their quarters.

The slaves were in their common room, all of them in their 'positions'. Little Eric, the youngest one, had been chosen spokesman. "Sir Daniel, may I speak?" I nodded.

"Sir, we think the sentence is unfair." I was floored. No slave ever questions a punishment and I started to get angry. But, what he said next dissipated my anger and thrilled me to my core.

"We were equally guilty. We did not stop the fight and we cheered Robert and Tim on. We should be punished, too."

I looked at Andrew but he just looked back at me helplessly. I motioned him to follow me out of the common room. "This was their idea, I assure you!" he told me. "But I think it is genuine."

I thought a while. Had we turned some kind of corner here? Finally, I came to a conclusion. "Andrew, my boy, you have instilled such a sense of worth and pride in these kids, they can't bear to see one of them punished for something they all had a hand in. That is simply spectacular and I salute you! So, I'm going to agree with their request. Artie will strangle me as this will completely screw up his work schedule. We will have to ask the other squads for help to take care of twelve naked-timers."

I went back to where the boys waited. "Do all of you agree with what Eric said?" One by one they nodded. "That is the most extraordinary thing I have ever heard from a group of slaves. And I am proud of your compassion and bravery. So, I will grant your request. All of you will serve 'naked time' until Saturday evening." That seemed to relax them and Andrew left to find eight more sets of cuffs.

Shortly, we had twelve naked and restrained boys standing before us. With some chagrin, we discovered we had to help them to the toilet, wipe asses and tuck each one into bed. Our work in the morning was cut out for us, too, but we laughed about it.

Artie did not laugh, however. When I told him what Andrew and I had done, he simply looked at me in horror. But he would find something useful the disorganized Squads could do. Said something about my loosing my mind. Well, maybe I had.

But we were stuck with it.

If the company had been shocked by four 'naked-time' slaves on Monday morning, you should have seen the reaction on Thursday morning when an entire Squad appeared naked and restrained.

I was there to explain what had happened. Artie just sat with his head in his hands, as far from his mad-man lover as he could get. He clearly considered me 'dangerous'.

The unanimous reaction from the slaves and the other Squires was, "They volunteered? Someone must be spiking their orange juice!"

"I need some help," I told them. Not that kind of help! "I need three boys from each Squad to take care of these disobedient young slaves for the rest of the week."

The rest of the Squires began to see where I was going with this… and so did some of the slaves. It took a little persuasion, but I soon had my twelve 'volunteers'. They would have to be with their charges from the time they got them up in the morning until they tucked them in at night. Any messes that were made they would have to clean up as the naked ones surely couldn't.

For weeks, we laughed at the expressions on the care-giver's faces which ranged from leers to complete shock.

Thursday was sheer chaos! Friday, less so. Fortunately, Marcus had gone London on business so I wouldn't have to explain until it was over. Elizabeth, bless her soul, thought the whole thing was hilarious.

Mid morning Saturday, one of the 'leering' care-givers came to me. "Sir, may I speak?" he asked from his 'position'.

"Yes, you may rise," I answered expecting a tale of woe.

"Sir," he said, "I just wanted to tell you we all think you were absolutely brilliant to do what you did!"

My shocked look must have unnerved him a bit and it took a moment or two before he could continue. "I volunteered to help, because I thought it would be fun to tease them. I chose Douglas because I thought it would be wizard to screw around with him and make him really suffer for being such a nasty twit."

"But, when I got him alone and wanted to hurt him a little, I looked into his eyes and I just could not! He was crying and was so sad and scared! Then, I remembered what I felt like at first."

"And I cried with him!"

"I told him, 'I forgive you, Doug, for the way you've behaved. You need a friend and I'll be your friend if you'll let me?' I don't think he believed me at first. But then I said, 'Be at peace! I want to help you and we'll get through this together.' And after that, he's tried very hard to make things as easy for me as he can."

"And you know what Doug said? He said, 'Thank you. Thank you for taking such good care of me. Even though I don't deserve it.' Wasn't that wizard?"

"And every one of my mates has said the same thing about their slave."

I don't know how, but suddenly my doubts were swept away. This was going to work out much better than I had imagined.

"You're Danny, aren't you?" He nodded. "Did you tell your Squire about this?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And?"

"He told me to tell you."

"Danny! You're a prince!" And I gave him a hug and sent him on his way. By the end of the day, I had eleven others tell me essentially the same story.

I met with all the Squires that afternoon and we agreed how we would handle the end of the terms after supper that evening. Artie looked at me like I had suddenly walked on water. But he had been heroic in keeping a schedule of tasks going and I told him, "Lover, I could not have done it without you."

One by one, Andrew and I released each of his boys and sent them off to their showers.

When they had all reassembled in the common room, Donald was bursting to talk, so I let him start.

"I've been a sissy, a bully and a twit. And so has Doug. I guess we thought no one cared. For maybe the first time someone did care and we were too stupid to believe it. Well, now I believe!"

"And I do too," added his brother. "I'm not sure we can ever make it up to you guys, or to you either, Squire Andrew, but we want to try."

"The thing I learned this week," said Tim, "is that we must be ready to help each other, no matter what. I guess we all can have a new beginning, here."

"What do the rest of you think about that?" asked Pru.

The cheers nearly lifted the roof off. I waved to them all and left. They were in good hands and I had a lover waiting for me.

It was one of our best nights ever!

Sir Marcus was aghast, at first, when he returned from his trip and found out what I had done. But once he understood the outcome, he looked at me with awe.

Fall was soon upon us and the slaves were all back in school, a new spirit of cooperation and pride adding to life at Chartwell. Alas, it was to be rudely interrupted.

I was in my office one morning when Marcus came rushing in. "Daniel, you had better come at once!"

He led me to the area where the estate received incoming supplies. On the way, he asked me, "We haven't agreed to take any new slaves recently, have we?" I shook my head; our Squads were currently at full strength. "I thought not," he said grimly.

In the center of the receiving area stood a typical slave transfer cage, surrounded by a Squad of our slaves who had been helping to unpack supplies. Artie and their Squire were with them. Peering down into the cage, I saw a young boy… about eleven, I guessed… fastened securely to the bottom of the cage. But, instead of being held flat on his back, he was on his side in a fetal position.

We soon discovered why; his hands had been tightly fastened together with zip-ties and then fastened to his genitals with another zip-tie. I hated zip-ties; they easily cut the skin and we could see the kid's wrists and scrotum were already bleeding. And he screamed into his gag and pulled against his bonds with all his remaining strength.

Our doctor had already been sent for and we set to work freeing the child. He continued to struggle and scream and it took four of us to hold him on the table. Doctor Nesbit tried to examine him, without much success. "I would say he is high on some kind of very strong stimulant. But what, I don't know. I don't have either the equipment or expertise to treat him; he needs to go to Children's in London right away."

Sir Marcus agreed and twenty minutes later he was on the way by med-evac.

Sir Marcus, Artie and I gathered in Sir Marcus's office to try to make sense out of what had happened. "The driver says his company received the cage from what they thought was a court vehicle," Artie told us. "His papers are forgeries. I've checked with the court administrator and they have sent us no slave. Someone has paid a lot of money to send us a grisly joke."

"I doubt that it was a joke," said Marcus. "Someone wanted to send us a message. But I can't, for the life of me, think of whomever and what they are trying to tell us."

Neither Artie nor I had any idea, so we waited for word from hospital. We did not have to wait long.

Late that afternoon a police helicopter containing a very angry Chief Inspector from Scotland Yard and an equally upset physician landed on our pad.

"Who is responsible for the condition of that child?" the Inspector angrily demanded to know. "What you have done to him is a serious crime!" added the doctor. Sir Marcus told them the whole story of how we had come to have the child and they calmed down a bit.

"Someone," the doctor explained, "has shoved a highly illegal drug device up the poor child's anal canal. It's too far up for us to remove it and it's only a matter of time until it kills him. There must be a dozen or more drugs in his system… most of them illegal for use on even slaves. His slave tattoo has been defaced so we are trying to establish his identity by DNA matching, but I don't have much hope on that score."

All of us were shocked! Who would do this to a child, even if he was a slave? A name crossed my mind, but I kept my counsel. We all sat around reviewing the facts over and over until the doctor's communicator rang.

When he had finished a short conversation, he turned to the rest of us with tears in his eyes, "The child is dead; his heart gave out. It's a shame, but what is even more tragic is this. He wasn't a slave at all. His name is Anthony Ware and he was reported killed in a motor car accident two months ago."

"So, someone went to a lot of trouble to set this up?" I ventured.

"It would appear so," confirmed the inspector.

"Can we bury him here?" I asked. "This was his last home, if only for a few short minutes."

"I don't see any problem with that," answered the doctor.

His colleague concurred, "We'll try to trace the device, but I doubt we'll find anything. It's obviously of Chinese origin; probably came in a diplomatic pouch."

Word of our tragic and unwanted delivery had quickly spread throughout the estate and we were all saddened and sickened by what had happened. At Anthony's service two days later, Sir Marcus explained, in detail, what had happened. When he called for silent prayer for Anthony, everyone fell to their knees. We buried him in the same plot where we had tenderly buried the victims of the infamous 'pit' many years ago.

The whole incident had a chilling effect on the estate, however. So much so that Marcus and Elizabeth delayed their oft-postponed honeymoon until spring.

That year, for the first time, we finished 'in the black' and could begin repaying some of the funds Prince Harry had advanced us. The estate was now profitable and productive, more than able to support our activities with our slaves. So, at long last in early June, Marcus and Elizabeth set out for Paris.

Before they left, we reviewed Artie's and my warrants 'just in case'. In Marcus's absence, I had full powers to run Chartwell… and, to some extent the entire earldom… with Artie as my deputy. Pru would act as 'Mistress of the House' while they were gone.

They had been gone two short weeks when our entire world imploded!

A bomb had been detonated beneath their limousine and both Sir Marcus and Lady Elizabeth had been killed. An act of terrorism, the French police assured us.

A nuclear device could not have been more effective in rendering us all comatose. The estate… indeed, much of England… ground to a swift halt. It would be weeks before things began to function normally.

Artie and I… in addition to running Chartwell for an extended period… were now faced with our own sorrow at the loss of these two wonderful people and the comfort of two little boys who had lost their parents.

We quickly brought them up to the house where Pru, now permanent Mistress of the House, could minister to them. After a few days, the boys asked to return to their Squad. We agreed that with their friends was the best place they could be during this time of sorrow.

Although the explosion had vaporized the car and its occupants, we were determined to hold a memorial service for Marcus and Elizabeth. The entire estate assembled in the open space near the family graveyard. The squads were drawn up in precise formations and all Chartwell's neighbors came to say farewell. Prince Harry represented his brother, the King. My Dads, Bobby and Peter had flown in and Bobby would be the first to speak.

He addressed the slave boys, ranged in neat ranks in front of him. "Please rise and stand comfortably as what I have to say I wish you especially to hear."

"I was a slave here at Chartwell years before you were born. I had come here at court order to be 'punished' for something I had never done, so my attitude at first was anything but positive. But I soon realized that Sir Robert, the 10th Earl, had a vision for what Chartwell could become… a place where boys like me… and like you… could live and grow and become free persons and worthy subjects of our Sovereign, William. A place of beauty and peace and hope."

"I was nearing the end of my time here, when Sir Robert gave me two little boys right off the mean streets of London to train. They were wild, distrustful and disobedient at first. And it was some time before I realized that I could not beat proper behavior into them. I could not punish them into being proper slaves. And it was then I realized what Sir Robert was trying to teach me; that loving them and truly caring for them was the key."

"They became wonderful, loving, brave and compassionate boys, just as Sir Robert intended. And I felt supremely honored when he adopted them as his grandsons."

"I watched with growing pride as they grew into young manhood. And I grieved when one of them,Timo, succumbed to illness. And I was proud to stand with Marcus after Sir Robert's passing as he fought to rescue Chartwell from the clutches of an evil and greedy man who was slowly destroying what Sir Robert had built. And I rejoiced when he was successful and we started to re-build again. And Peter and I agree that one of the proudest moments in our lives was when Sir Marcus chose our son, Daniel as his seneschal."

"Today we say farewell to Marcus and Elizabeth, but they will always be with us so long as Chartwell exists."

Robert and Tim stepped forward to speak. They had resisted our efforts to dress them up and proudly wore only their slave coverings.

Robert spoke first, "Our Mom and Dad really loved this place. And everyone who lives here. When Tim and I were little, our Dad used to tell us about his and Mom's plans… what he called his dream… to make this a place where young slaves like you… and like Tim and me… could be safe from harm and learn and grow so that we could be free boys. And he believed in this so much that he made us slaves, too, so we could understand what his dream really was."

"We didn't like it at all … at first. But you showed us how to behave And we soon began to understand what Mom and Dad were trying to teach us. That it doesn't matter whether you are slave or free. That every one of us should earn the right to be free persons. And we are proud to be part of a Squad, with a loving Squire like Andrew and two men like Daniel Sir and Artie Sir to teach and help us."

"I guess our lives will be different, now, when Robert is made the Earl," Tim added. "But one thing will never change! You will always be our friends and we will be your friends."

"Goodbye, Mom and Dad. We miss you!" And the two of them turned to each other, embraced and wept.

I went forward and put my arms about them both. "It's ok, guys. It's ok."

After a few minutes, they recovered. "Thank you," Tim whispered to me and they went back to their places.

Now it was my turn!

"All of us who live at Chartwell are part of a dream, as young Robert so clearly reminded us. Some of us have seen that dream grow with Sir Robert. My Dad was one of the early ones and he told me about Chartwell from the time I was a very little boy."

"Many of us also saw that dream nearly destroyed when Sir Robert passed away. And we rejoiced when Sir Marcus prevailed and he and Lady Elizabeth began to build again. Artie and I have been proud to be part of that effort."

"But evil has struck once again. And two very dear friends have been taken from us, their lives destroyed by the act of a madman. Well, WE WILL NOT LET EVIL DESTROY THIS DREAM! WE WILL NOT LET THE FORCES OF DARKNESS TRIUMPH!" I thundered. "We will pursue their dream so that Chartwell will, once again be a place of beauty, peace and hope for all of us who dwell here."

"Farewell, Marcus and Elizabeth. We will not forget you! And we will never forget your dream."

Prince Harry was supposed to be the final speaker, but he demurred. "What could I possibly have added?" he told me later.

I don't know if it was our words or not, but, slowly the estate and the earldom struggled back to a semblance of normalcy. The twins insisted on rejoining their Squad and we agreed the best place for them was among their friends. Artie and I had consulted with Chartwell's solicitor and were firm that our warrants provided that, if anything were to have happened to Sir Marcus, we could continue to operate the estate. In effect, I was the Earl… sort of… and neither of us could be dismissed until twelve months after the new Earl was installed.

There was no doubt Robert would be the Thirteenth Earl… he was twenty minutes older than his twin…but he would be underage and a guardian would have to be appointed. At the intense urging of Artie and Prince Harry, I petitioned for custody of both boys. And we settled down to await the court's decisions. A complicating factor was that Robert, as his father's oldest son, would inherit Chartwell and all the slaves living there. They included two in an unusual situation: Tim and himself! Robert seemed to be in the awkward position of owning his brother and himself, so we did not expect the court to unravel that quickly.

Many of the younger peers had never been comfortable with Sir Marcus… a boy from the streets who became an earl. They had short memories as their families in the distant past had often come from similar situations. Nigel's hand was in the pot, too; some of these peers supported his claim. Their leader was Edward, Prince of Wales, who fashioned himself 'The Lion of Britain', much to his father's disgust.

The court was hopelessly entangled in the issue of the twin's slavery and the weeks dragged on. At least we expected a timely resolution to my petition for guardianship. We should not have.

After more than a month with no news, we were shocked to learn one day that Edward had applied for guardianship and his petition had been granted. To make matters still worse, he had announced that he intended to have both boys renounce their claim in favor of another claimant.

Nigel!

When the news of the court's decision reached Chartwell, the twins came running to Artie and me screaming. "Don't let Prince Edward take us, please! He wants to destroy Chartwell. You've got to stop him!" they bawled in their fear. It was all Artie and I could do to keep from joining them. It would be an unmitigated disaster for everything we and the others… slave and free alike… had worked so hard to bring about.

"Artie and I will do everything possible to prevent that," I told them. But it didn't do much to quell their terror. Andrew took them into his arms and assured them everything would be all right. It would just take a little time. Oh for his faith!

The next morning, Prince Harry arrived with some help… of a sort. "The guardianship will not be valid until Edward appears before the court with them."

"I WILL NOT LET THAT SPOILED BRAT HAVE THEM! NEVER!" I shouted. "I will find some way to hide them. Or something!"

Once Harry had managed to quiet me down a bit, we discussed the situation a bit more calmly. "The key," he counseled, "is to keep them out of his hands. I can't advise you to flee, but…"

At that point, Artie broke in, "Daniel, I know you trust me without exception. But, if you should decide to take them somewhere, it's better that I don't know anything about it. That way I can't be forced to betray you." He gave me a kiss and withdrew, leaving Prince Harry and me to plot in secret.

Author's Note: Remember there is no Fifth Amendment to protect potential conspirators. But, Artie cannot be made to reveal what he doesn't know. Prince Harry, as a member of the royal family, could not be made to testify without great public indignation.

"Where could I possibly take them that Edward could not find us and compel me to surrender them?" I asked. "He has a court order that is valid throughout all of Great Britain."

"There is a place you could go," answered Harry and he proceeded to tell me.

"Do you think we could get there?" I asked.

"That will be the tricky part. I can't have you flown there and travel by auto or even rail or bus will quickly reveal your whereabouts once Edward has an arrest warrant issued. The twins would be considered runaway slaves and you would be charged with aiding them. You're going to have to walk for a good ways and you'll be in real danger until you reach your destination. I can give you some help along the way, but it will mostly rest with you."

"If there is even a small chance I can keep the twins out of Edward's clutches, I'm ready." I assured him. "My dads brought me up to believe that you do what is right and not count the cost. These people and this place are very dear to me and I will not let them be destroyed by that ass!"

"If I had had any doubts that you could succeed, you just demolished them," the Prince assured me, giving me a big hug.

The next morning, Edward appeared demanding custody. I asked for a week to 'prepare the boys for their new life' and he granted me three days. As soon as he left, I had Andrew bring the boys up to the house.

"Guys, I said I would protect you from Edward and I intend to do just that," I told them. "But it means we will have to leave Chartwell for a while and go to a place where Edward can't get at you."

"Where is that?"

"It's better that you don't know, just now. It's a place that Prince Harry told me about and he is going to help us get there. You'll just have to…"

"Daniel, Sir," interrupted Robert, "we trust you! If we stay here, it's kind of like that story in the Bible. You know; Daniel in the Lion's den. But you're the Daniel who's going to rescue us."

"Yes, with God's help, I will," I assured them.

2. Exile

We packed only a few supplies. I had adequate clothes for 'roughing it' but the twins had only their slave clothing. I hoped to be able to solve that problem and equip ourselves better once we reached the first way-point Harry had told me about.

Taking one of the oldest vehicles, under cover of darkness, I drove north and west into the Lake District. The twins were sound asleep in the back; it had been an exhausting day for them, emotionally as well as physically.

Passing through Ulverston, we continued north along the shore of Lake Windermere to a Royal Army Supply Depot just north of Bowness. It was deserted as maneuvers would not be conducted there this season and Harry had given me the combination to the locks.

Choosing smallest of the battle-dress uniforms available, I was able to provide the twins with clothing a bit more suitable for the hike ahead of us. We also took sleeping bags and some other camping gear and twelve day's worth of combat rations. Robert and Tim would carry the camping gear in their packs and I would carry the food. After we locked up again, we pushed the car off the end of the dock into the lake. No use providing evidence that we had come this way.

And we set off into the 'wilderness'. Our route would allow us to bypass Ambleside and Grassmere, taking us between Derwentwater and Ulswater, along a trail that was not heavily used yet this season. By mid-afternoon, the boys were exhausted… I was, too, but I didn't want to admit it… so I found us a sheltered place for our first night 'on the trail'. We had a cold supper of combat rations before we crawled into our sleeping bags.

It was quite dark when I awoke to the sound of the boys weeping. They were sitting on their sleeping bags, holding each other and crying their hearts out. I could have kicked myself. They needed some body comfort and I quickly invited them into my bed. Those two naked bodies pressed up against me reminded me of the first time Artie and I had 'slept' together. Holding them in my arms, I gradually comforted their fears.

But they had lots of questions. "What's going to happen to us? Are we still slaves? Why did Mom and Dad have to die? Where are we going?"

Most of their questions I simply could not answer and I told them that. I did tell them about the place we were trying to get to but not where it was. That seemed to satisfy them and they gradually dropped off to sleep. I had never been this close to them before, but, somehow, it felt good. It felt right . We would ditch the other two sleeping bags in the morning.

The next four days we made good time, by keeping to the hills between Derwentwater and Ulswater. Our fifth night found us just south of the little town of Caldbeck. I estimated we should reach our next way-point, Carlisle, in another day.

I was wrong!

Stupidly, I had not set a watch that night and was rudely awakened the next morning by a kick in the gut just as it was starting to get light. I looked up to see a scruffy man… obviously an outlaw… with a double-barrel shotgun leveled at my head. "Get out of there and don't try nuthin' fancy," he growled.

The boys and I crawled from the sleeping bag, our teeth chattering in the chill of the dawn.

"Well! What have we here? I'll bet you're the runaways the law is looking for. Gonna get me a big reward for turning you in, I am!"

The twins were paralyzed with fright and I wasn't far behind them. Had our cover been blown or were the authorities simply looking everywhere and this oaf had just stumbled upon us?

"Here," our visitor barked, reaching into his kit bag. "Hogtie the two kids. And don't be slackin' off. I don't want them runnin' away while I go to town to check on the reward."

"Down on your bellies, guys. I'll try to be as gentle as I can," I assured them. I tied hands and feet and pulled them together in a classic hogtie, but not so tight. "Don't worry, I'll get us out of this," I whispered to them.

Yeah, I thought. How?

The man checked my work, pulled the ties a bit tighter and then directed me to sit across the campsite with my arms in back around a stout tree and proceeded to handcuff me. Then he gagged the boys with their socks. "That should hold you 'til I get back."

With that, he headed up the trail and disappeared.

I could see the boys shaking with fright and I tried to console them. "Try not to struggle, it won't do any good. We'll just have to wait until he returns. See if you can get some sleep." I sat there brooding as the boys continued to struggle and gasp in their bonds. Finally they settled down a bit.

It was early afternoon when he returned. "Two-thousand pounds!" he chortled. "Course, I didn't tell no one. Don't want someone stealin' my prize! What you got in your grub pack?"

"Just field rations," I replied. "Please, can't you let the boys loose and give them some water?"

Without answering, he cut the ropes connecting their hands and feet, ungagged them and gave them each a drink out of their canteens.

"Can't take you in 'til mornin', so we might as well have a bit o fun!" He rolled Robert onto his back and told his brother, "Give'm a blow job!"

"They don't know about that!" I admonished the man.

"Yes we do," Tim corrected me. That wasn't on the squad curriculum, but had obviously been an 'elective'.

"Better do what he says," I reluctantly advised him.

He crawled over to his brother and began to work on his prick. Robert tried very hard not to be aroused, but finally had to give in. And, with a squeal, he filled his brother's mouth with his boy-cream. Try as hard as I could to prevent it, I got hard too.

"You enjoy that?" asked the man.

"No, sir," sobbed Robert.

"Well, maybe you'd enjoy sucking me more." Leaning his ever present shotgun against a nearby tree, he dropped his filthy trousers and waved his stiff prick in Robert's face. Rolling him over, he sat him up and pointed. "Get your lips around that."

Robert looked over at me in horror and I just sadly nodded. Gagging, he began to work on the man, as I seethed and called him every nasty name I could think of. Under my breath of course.

In the meantime, Tim had managed to slip the ties on his wrists. He showed me what he had done and I immediately knew what he had in mind. "NO!" I mouthed to him. "Don't try it. You'll get hurt!" But he shook his head and waited for his chance.

The man was fast reaching his peak and had started to cum, when Tim made a leap for the gun, and managed to grab it and roll away. The outlaw batted Robert out of the way and came at Tim with a knife. Tim waited until the last minute, put the gun barrel right in the outlaw's stomach and pulled both triggers.

The blast knocked the outlaw back on top of Robert and showered them both with blood and gore. There was no doubt the outlaw was dead.

With frightening calm, Tim used the man's knife to cut the rest of his bonds and dug his brother out from under the corpse and cut his bonds. Fishing around in the dead man's blood-soaked pockets, he found the key to the cuffs and freed me. Both boys fell into my arms and the three of us cried for some time.

At last, I recovered enough to take charge again. We dragged the body into the tall brush, covered over the blood as best we could and tried our best to wash in a nearby stream. I didn't know whether anyone had heard the shots and would come to investigate, but I wanted us out of there as soon as possible.

We hiked north until it was fully dark before making camp. The boys were silent and I knew they were suffering. Finally, it was too dark and we made camp off the trail. Since we had passed no one nor heard any commotion, I thought the shots had not aroused anyone.

After our field-rations, I sat with both of them in my arms while they sobbed with relief at getting away from the outlaw. I thought they both were terrified by the act of killing someone, but that wasn't it at all.

"He was a bad man," said Tim, "and he deserved to die. But I defied you! You told me not to do it but I did anyway!"

That nearly floored me! "Tim, I was wrong!"

"But you're my Master and I must obey you!"

"Tim, you were very brave and you did what you believed was right. I'll not punish you for that. You're both growing up and will soon be free boys and you will both have to make hard decisions. I'm very proud of you for the way you behaved."

"Well, my behavior wasn't anything to be proud of!" bawled his brother. "I'm some kind of pervert. I actually enjoyed Tim blowing me!"

"Has Tim ever done that to you before?"

"Yes, but…"

"Your body just responded. Sex is a very powerful force and sometimes you can't control how your body reacts. You're not a pervert at all, just a healthy young boy who loves his brother."

Both of them seemed to be comforted, and we crawled into my bag together. Yes, we went a bit further than just rubbing and stroking that night. The boys had learned those lessons well.

By late afternoon, the next day, we reached the outskirts of Carlisle, where help awaited us. I left the boys in a safe place and went into town searching for the address Prince Harry had given me. It was the shop of a printer and engraver named Walter Piston. I gave Mr. Piston the code word Harry had provided.

"Good," he said. "Mr. Fürst said you might drop by. Where are your companions?"(Fürst is the German word for 'prince')

I explained where I had left them and that night, under cover of darkness, we hustled the twins into Walter's shop. It's amazing what a hot meal and real beds will do for someone who has been fleeing overland for more than a week.

The next morning, we settled down to the problem of how to get us quickly to our final destination.

Walter gave the boys a 'buzz cut' and died what was left of their hair and my hair jet black. The three of us applied a dye compound all over our bodies to darken our skins. Then he took pictures of us and sent them off to be 'processed'.

A day later we were presented with our new Spanish passports. I was Angel Morales from Seville and was on holiday with my two sons Timo and Roberto. Where Walter had gotten our documents, I did not ask. Prince Harry has some rather interesting people working for him. But then, he had been William's Chief of MI-6 for years.

Rested, well-fed and ready for the next part of our journey and armed with a Britrail Pass good on both trains and the postal buses, we set forth. At this point, we needed to go with all speed.

We took the train to Glasgow and on to Oban, on the west coast of the mainland. The guard on the train checked our passports and wished us a good holiday. A short ferry ride brought us to Strathcol on the Isle of Mull and we crossed the island to Fionnphort by bus the next morning. Our final destination, Iona, glistened in the distance. I explained the significance of this haven to the boys and they were excited and relieved to be almost 'home free' once more.

By dint of much persuasion and the last of the funds Walter had provided, we succeeded in finding a fisherman to take us across the strait. "Ye'll not be stayin' long. They don't want visitors much," he assured us.

True to his warning, we had barely set foot on the small dock, when three burly men in monk's attire accosted us. "Ye canna stay! Ye have nor permission to land!"

"Please!" I begged them. "Tell Father Bertram that Bobby Sand's son is here and needs his help." The monks exchanged surprised glances and one of them quickly strode back up the steep hill to the monastery.

A short time later, he returned with an older man in a priest's cassock. He studied us for a few moments. "So you're Bobby's son?"

"Yes sir. My name is Daniel and these are Robert and Tim Crowell. We wish to claim asylum. My father often talked about you. He said you taught him to be a good slave."

Father Bertram smiled, "Bobby once saved me from a horrible death when we were still young slaves. I would never turn away his son. Welcome to Iona and the Monastery of St. Patrick!"

"I suppose you have taken their last farthing?" he addressed the fisherman.

"Well Father, sure it is I must make a livin' for me and the wife and our bairns."

"Yes, but not all at once. Give them back half," he directed.

"Please Father, let him keep it. If we stay here, we won't need it," I interjected.

Father Bertram nodded, but admonished the fisherman, "Mind ye! Your trip across the strait this morning never happened!"

Our boatman nodded, pushed off and was soon out of sight.

"Come," said Bertram, "let's go up to the monastery. Brother Cook will have some hot tea and you can tell me your story." We followed him up the hill and into the building which would be our home for many months.

Settled in the 'great room', I told him our entire tale. The boys added a few comments and Robert finally asked, "Please sir. Can we stay here? It's our last chance!"

"We'd heard there was a fuss among the nobles, but had not heard it was so serious. Yes, you may stay as long as you wish. But you will be expected to help with the work to earn your keep."

"The boys and I are both acquainted with hard work," I assured him. "And we will be proud and grateful to be part of this community. Prince Harry told me a lot about you and the kind of life you lead and we will work hard to earn our place."

And so began our stay on Iona. As it turned out, we would be here for most of a year.

I was given a small room… or 'cell' as they termed it… with a bed, chair and table. A doorway led to the next 'cell' where the twins were lodged. In place of our travel clothes, we were each given a light monk's robe and sandals for summer wear. Under them, the brothers usually wore a sort of breech-cloth. I cut a pair of my trousers down to shorts and the twins still had their slave coverings. These would be supplemented with warm woolen trousers, sheep-skin-lined boots and a heavy woolen outer robe with a cowl for cold weather.

The food was adequate but certainly not fancy; mutton, lamb and fish were mainstays along with vegetables the monks raised themselves. Robert and Tim were a bit put off at first, but hunger soon changed their opinion of Brother Cook's cuisine.

All three of us were put to work in the vegetable gardens and caring for the numerous sheep the Brothers raised. The twins were well acquainted with vegetable crops, but sheep raising was new to all three of us. The boys were in good shape and used to hard work. I thought I was in pretty good shape too, but found I had sore muscles in places I didn't even know I had muscles.

But, truthfully, we enjoyed the work out-of-doors and began to have a strong bond with all the Brothers.

In addition to their work in field and pasture,the Brothers maintained a full daily schedule of the traditional Holy Offices:

Lauds or Morning Prayer at sunrise before breakfast
Terce or Mid-Morning Prayer
Sext or Midday Prayer
None or Mid-Afternoon Prayer
Vespers or Evening Prayer after dinner
Compline or Night Prayer just before retiring near midnight

As residents of the Community, we were invited, but not required to attend. I usually attended Vespers and encouraged to boys to do likewise.

In addition to our hard labor, I tried to keep up the boys' education, drilling them in math and science as I was best able to. I was concerned they would fall behind their peers. They weren't too much concerned, having the time of their young lives working side-by-side with the Brothers. The Brothers, for their part, welcomed us warmly and went out of their way to make us feel at home in the community.

Evenings, after Vespers, were usually spent in the 'great room' where Brother Ambrose continued our education… all of us. He knew more about history, literature, and legend than anyone I had ever known and made most of my Oxford professors seem shallow and uneducated. The boys were enthralled by him and would sit for hours listening to him; I usually had to forcibly drag them off to bed. I soon realized they were getting the finest classical education in history and literature. I must confess I, too, learned much from this gentle man.

We had been on Iona only a few weeks, when a Royal Marine troop helicopter landed without permission on our shore. Highly indignant at this breech of law and custom, Father Bertram and Brother Miles went to meet them.

"I have authority to…" began the harried captain.

"You have NO authority here," Bertram firmly told him. "And your presence here without my express permission violates a royal charter that goes back nine centuries."

"But I was assured by Prince Edward that you were in danger from some vicious criminals who must be apprehended and brought to trial."

"Well, you have been misled. And you are about to discover that Prince Edward is a bloody fool! I suggest you communicate with London at once."

The captain dived back into his copter and emerged some minutes later white-faced. "I have just had a scintillating conversation with His Majesty. I've never been chewed out quite so thoroughly before. My sincere apologies for disturbing you Father Bertram. I assure you it will not happen again."

"I understand completely, Captain. Would you and your men like to grace our table this noontide? I'd like you to meet these desperate criminals you were sent to apprehend."

The twins and I arrived for lunch to find the refectory full of marines. Bertram quickly calmed our fears and told us what had happened. We were introduced to the captain who was looking more embarrassed as the simple meal went on. He had been lied to and made to look foolish and he didn't like it one bit.

Sitting beside me, he handed me his communicator. "The King has directed me to encourage you to call Chartwell and let them know how you fare."

I gratefully took the device from him, gathered the twins, and we excused ourselves.

Andrew answered the call. "Artie! Come quickly! It's Daniel." With our cover now blown, there was no point to secrecy and I spent a half hour with Artie. When I finished, I passed the phone to Robert and gave them both some private time with Andrew.

When I tried to return the phone to the captain standing by his troopship, he fended me off. "Oh, no, Sir. You are to keep it and use it as you see fit." He saluted, loaded up his troops and they were gone. We were never troubled again.

Father Bertram understood our desire to regain regular contact with Chartwell, but he counseled me to limit our calls, both to dampen our homesickness and for more compelling reasons. Once the batteries were exhausted, we had no way to recharge them.

The Brothers rarely ventured beyond their fields and pastures on Iona. But, the twins and I usually spent our free time exploring farther afield. To our delight, we discovered a small hot spring near the coast on the north shore of the island. The spring bubbled out from the hillside and filled a small pool which overflowed into the sea. The water was a soothing 35° C [95° F] year round, just the ticket for relaxing sore muscles.

We took one look at each other, threw off our clothes and plunged in. Tanned from both Mr. Piston's die and from their work in the fields, the boys looked like two brown otters splashing away. Even after the weather became quite chill, we still visited regularly. Casting off our clothes and plunging into the warm, therapeutic waters was a joy. Having to get back out into the chill was another matter to be endured with chattering teeth.

But winter was soon upon us. On Iona that meant weeks of howling gales, sleet and snow driven in from the North Sea. Our 'summer' clothes were barely sufficient indoors and no one in his right mind would venture forth outside without dressing in the warm winter outfits we had been supplied.

Our individual 'cells' were, of course, unheated and the woolen blankets barely adequate. When the first really cold spell hit, I awoke the next morning to find two warm bodies curled up against mine. "What's this about?" I asked my sleepy bedmates.

"We were cold." they replied. "Please don't send us away. Please let us sleep together, like we did on the trail. We'll bring our blankets, too."

I thought for a few seconds as two pairs of eyes focused on me expectantly. "Let me ask Father Bert if it is OK." I told them. They simply sighed and snuggled down into the warmth again.

"They have lost a great deal," Bertram answered my question. "They need someone to cuddle and hold them. I know they may seem a bit too old, but you are never too old to be cuddled. Give them what they need."

I immediately thought of my own bedtimes with Artie. It seemed so long ago!

That evening, the Brothers may have been a bit surprised by the sounds of cheering coming from my cell. With the addition of their blankets, it became possible for the three of us to sleep naked once more. The feeling of their bare skin against mine excited them… it made me feel homesick for my beloved… and we, once more, began to explore each others bodies.

The icy weather seemed to go on forever. Even though the calendar said spring was just a few days away, the weather gods laughed and threw wind, sleet and snow at us in increasing amounts. But, lambing season was soon upon us regardless of the outside weather.

Our ewes… even I had become possessive… presented us with twenty-eight lambs. They and their new offspring were penned separately from the rams and other ewes in a roofed over paddock just outside the kitchen. Robert had appointed himself their caretaker.

The boys often slipped out of their warm cocoon ahead of me, threw on their 'inside' clothes and scampered off to the warm kitchen where Brother Cook awaited them to stir the morning porridge while the other brothers were still at Lauds. And he often had a small treat for them. I was due to check on the rams that morning… an outside chore… so I dressed accordingly.

Poking my head into the kitchen, I saw only one boy. "Where's your brother?" I asked Tim.

"He went to check on the lambs."

"Not dressed like that, I hope!"

"Yeah. He thinks he's the 'iron man'," snorted Tim.

"Tim, I'm serious! Was he dressed properly?"

"I guess not. He just had his inside clothes," Tim replied, beginning to look concerned.

I pushed out into the paddock but could find no Robert. Then I spotted one of the bawling ewes without a lamb. At the same time, I noticed the door to the outside, howling with snow and sleet, was ajar. I quickly ran outside, but could not see him. The drifting snow and howling wind made it impossible. After making a cursory search about the entrance and not finding him, I rushed back to the kitchen and sent Tim off to rouse the brothers from Lauds. "Tell them to come quickly. He's outside and I can't find him!"

I plunged back outside into the blizzard and began to search. Soon joined by a number of the brothers, we set up a sweep line. I stumbled over something, but it turned out to be a tree stump and we pressed on, barely able to see each other.

Finally there came a shout, "I found him! He's over here!" off to my left.

Guided by the shout, I soon came upon them. Brother Adolf had found them lying with the lamb wrapped around the boy. His eyes were closed and his skin a waxy white. But I could feel a faint pulse. Wrapping him in my cloak, we stumbled back into the ewe pen where Adolf deposited the mostly frozen lamb to its mother's care. Tim was waiting with blankets.

"Run ahead and ask Brother Cook to fill one of his tubs with cool water," I directed him.

Carrying Robert into the warm kitchen, I stripped off his soaked, frozen clothes and plunged him into the cool water. Both Tim and I began to massage his limbs and whole body as the other monks hovered about us concerned.

Gradually, the waxy, white complexion was replaced with a more normal skin color and Robert began to shiver… a good sign. Brother Cook, at my direction, added hot water to the tub until it was like a warm bath. Robert began to breathe normally, although he was still unconscious.

"Go take your clothes off and get into our bed," I instructed Tim and he ran off to obey. Brother Amos and I lifted Robert from the tub and dried him off before I carried him to our cell and slipped him in beside Tim. "Put your arms around him and get as much skin-to-skin contact as you can."

About a half hour later, Robert regained consciousness. Now that I was sure he was going to be ok, I was angry with him. "Whatever made you do such a stupid thing?" I shouted at him. Truthfully, I was more angry at myself for not watching them more carefully.

"I'm sorry, Father. It was stupid and I should be punished," he bawled as his brother looked on with frightened eyes. "I promise I won't do it again." And, with that he fell asleep. His calling me 'Father' was puzzling, but I didn't press the matter.

Tim had crawled out of the bed and dressed and both of us just sat there watching his slow breathing. "Oh Tim!" I wailed. "Do you have any idea how much pain I would have suffered to have to tell Artie we had lost him?"

In reply, he gripped me by the shoulders and fixed his gaze on me. "Father, do you know how much pain I would have suffered if I had lost my brother?"

All right. I deserved that. But, he too had called me 'Father.'

Robert slept until late afternoon and Brother Cadfel was there to check him over. "Doesn't seem to have been harmed. Can't even find any frostbite. A very close thing, however," Cadfel informed me.

After the brother had left us, Robert asked, "Are you still angry with me, Father?"

I thought for a minute and replied, "No. I was just frightened that we had lost you. I don't think I could live with myself if that had happened. But why have you both started calling me 'Father'?"

"Well, you have been like a father to both of us ever since… since… since…" He couldn't go on.

"How about Squire Andrew?" I asked.

"He's like a big brother," replied Tim. "But you've been the one who saved us from Edward and kept us safe. And it's so wizard when we sleep together and love each other."

"If you don't want us to, we won't," added his twin.

It was all I could do to keep from blubbering! I had not realized how very special these two boys had become until I had nearly lost one of them. "Perhaps I can be a real father to you. Would you like that?"

"Oh, yes!" they chorused.

Lord! I was about to acquire two sons… at least in their minds.

And mine, too.

I went to see Father Bertram.

"Daniel," he assured me, "they have lost everything that is important to a child: parents, friends, home. It's quite natural they would focus on you. You're the one who has brought them safely to us and continue to love and cherish them and hold out the promise they will one day return to home and family. You and Arthur are now their family and it would quite right for us to recognize that. If you wish it."

He had my answer in a second!

We attended Vespers the next evening and, after the holy office for the day, Father Bertram spoke once more. "We have gathered to glorify our Lord as is our usual custom, but tonight we ask His blessing on another matter."

"We have been blessed with three among us for most of a year who have suffered much, overcome many obstacles and grown in their love and attachment to each other. Tonight they wish to pledge themselves to each other. Daniel, Robert and Timothy, will you please come and kneel before this holy altar."

We took our places and he continued.

"Daniel, you have asked to become father to Robert and Timothy. Will you love them and protect them from all evil and raise them in the fear and admonition of our Lord for as long as you shall live?"

"I will, Father, by the grace of God," I replied.

"Robert and Timothy, will you have Daniel as your father. Will you honor and love him and obey him for as long as you shall live."

"Yes Father Bertram," they replied in unison. "He will be our father forever" added Tim.

"Then, I believe God has heard your pledge and blesses your family. And you are now father and sons, by His grace and under His protection. Thanks be to God! Amen!"

And just like that, I acquired two sons. I knew without exception, Artie would support me in this. The civil authorities would not recognize 'the adoption' of course. But the boys and I did and that was what mattered.

That night, the three of us made love tenderly and joyfully. When we lay there in the afterglow, Robert asked me, "May we call you 'Dad'?" I could only nod; I was too overcome to speak.

And, from that point on through the rest of our stay, we practiced the arts of love almost every night in my bed. If Father Bertram knew, he never mentioned it. Truthfully, I felt a bit guilty; Artie was my lover and he could not participate. But I rationalized it by convincing myself that I was giving the boys what they needed. They had, after all, had so much sorrow and terror in their young lives and I was sure it was my role to comfort and please them.

It was interesting for me to learn what they liked best from me. Robert liked being stroked and having his smooth balls squeezed until almost at his peak. In turn, he stroked me to the same state. Tim, on the other hand, went wild when his nipples were tweaked and a finger inserted up his hot little ass drove him nearly bonkers. And he liked to play with my nipples, too. But, he also was adept at stopping before he peaked. Both of them wanted to save themselves for their 'crescendo'.

They usually had a competition; either stroking each other to climax or a hot sixty-nine until one of them cummed. The one who held out the longer got to blow me and then I returned the favor. They could cum quite a bit now and the three of us always shared our cream with each other. We never even entertained the idea of fucking; that seemed crude and base to all of us

While Artie and I had been still in the 'cuddle, stroke and rub stage, they were experts; my technique improved with practice. Where had they learned such things? I was absolutely certain it had not been from their squire. Andrew was far too 'straight' and would have considered it a serious breach of honor to ever have engaged in sex with any of his boys. I suppose it was simply 'boy lore' passed down from members of their squad and doubtless passed on to other young boys ad infinitum.

Even on Iona, spring finally arrives. It was well into 'flaming June', as the Scots refer to it, before crops could be planted and one afternoon I was busy setting beets in our vegetable garden when brother Amos came rushing to me. "Father Bertram wishes you to join him in his office at once," he told me breathlessly. "He says it's important and I should take over your task here."

I glanced at the twins in the far pasture, thanked Amos and headed indoors. Finding Bertram in his office, I bowed deeply and said, "Yes, Father. You wanted to see me."

"Daniel, you have a visitor from the mainland. You may not wish to see him at first, but I advise you to hear what he has to say." And he led me into the Chapel and withdrew.

Before me, head pressed to the floor, crouched a man in the garb of a Penitent of the Blackfriars of Glastonbury. I knew of them; they were the last resort for recalcitrant sons of noble families… the very last chance for redemption before prison or worse.

"Sir Daniel, may I speak?" asked the figure.

I replied, "Yes." The voice was familiar, but I didn't recognize my visitor until he sat up and threw back his hood. It was Edward, Prince of Wales!

"I have come here to beg your forgiveness! For the terrible hurt I have done you and your young charges. You may never forgive me, but I must answer for my crimes to a higher court."

"I was indirectly responsible for the murder of Sir Marcus and Lady Elizabeth. By blindly and foolishly following the lead of Nigel Crowell, I and my friends became accomplices in his heinous crimes. The Sûreté Nationale has proved Nigel ordered their deaths so he could again take over Chartwell. My uncle once characterized me correctly when he called me 'a dumb shit.' Nigel had designs on the Crown as well, and he will shortly enter the Traitor's Gate."

"The Lord Chief Justice wished to charge me and my friends with murder and treason as well. My father intervened and we have been consigned to the Blackfriars for the next ten years 'to learn discipline and loyalty'. This is the last time I will be outside their walls for most of this decade."

His story had left me breathless. I looked down at his gaunt, sad face and felt his statements were genuine. "You called me 'Sir'. Why is that?"

"Father has named both you and Arthur 'Knights of the British Empire'. And the High Court has vacated my petition of guardianship; you will be named guardian of both Robert and Timothy. The King bids me to invite you to return to Chartwell with all due speed."

I had trouble grasping everything he had told me. We were free to return and Robert would soon be the 13th Earl?

"If it is not too upsetting to them, may I speak to Robert and Timothy?"

I nodded and went in search of the twins. Spying them in a far corner of the paddock, I whistled and beckoned them to me. They came at a run… having decided to make a footrace of it… and arrived out-of-breath, bowing low in mock humility. I chuckled at their energy.

"There is someone to see you. Don't' be afraid; just listen to what he has to tell you." And I led them to the Chapel.

The figure before them was again in a position of servitude. "May I speak. young sirs?"

The boys had never been called 'young sirs' before and their slave discipline had not covered a situation like this one. I had to nudge Robert before he found his tongue and croaked, "Yes!"

The boys' shock was no less than mine and theirs was coupled with fright. "Courage, lads! Listen to what he has to say." They gulped and remained silent, but stood holding my hands.

"I have come to beg your forgiveness for causing the deaths of your father and mother and for forcing you to flee your home and seek shelter from the Brothers of St. Patrick." and he went on to repeat what he had told me.

When he had finished, both of them stared at him for long minutes. Then Robert, in what must have been a supreme act of courage, replied, "You might be forgiven, Your Highness…"

"Please don't call me that," interrupted Edward. "I have forfeited the right to that title. Father says he might consider it once the Blackfriars have finished with me."

"Well, you may be sure we will think about forgiving you. Daniel and the Brothers, here, have a lot to say about forgiving someone and we'll have to listen to them and decide," Tim finished for his twin.

"Thank you. That is much more than I deserve. And, now I must return to Glastonbury so the Father Abbot can add to my collection of stripes. Each one reminds me of the terrible wrongs I have caused you." And he withdrew.

We stood in silence. After a while, I took both boys into my arms. "You know what this news means, don't you? It means we can go home!"

Robert was ecstatic; Tim, less so. It was almost as if he were asking, "Must we?" That was understandable; his brother would be the 'big cheese'. Neither he nor I knew what his role would be. I tried to assure him as best I could and he put up no more resistance. His brother's enthusiasm and his own desire to return to his friends won out.

We discovered that Edward had delivered a package with clothes for all three of us… Artie had done a brilliant job guessing what sizes the boys would need, but mine were a bit loose. Evidently I had slimmed down some while here.

There was also a veri pistol and a red flare. A Sea King would be standing by on Mull for a week waiting for our expected signal.

We all attended Vespers with the Brothers after to our last evening meal with them. It was bittersweet. We had come to love and appreciate the Brothers and the life they lived so courageously, but were anxious to return to home and family. I told them, "We can't begin to thank you for the warm welcome you have given us. And the life you have invited us to share. Our debt is enormous."

"Not so," Father Bertram corrected me. "We surely have gained much from your presence among us. Sometimes I think we may be a little too removed from the real world. Your two young sons have certainly provided us with a different outlook on our sheltered lives; having them… and you too, Daniel… with us has been exciting and thrilling. So the debt is ours, not yours."

"Nevertheless," I pressed him, "you did save two lives who are very precious to me. If there is anything I can do in return…?"

"I have but one request," he answered. "Might you consider sending us a few of your boys from time to time? Ones who might benefit from a season with us? So that we, too, might benefit from their time among us?"

Completely unanticipated, his request was simply amazing. It would be a huge opportunity for our kids and I swiftly agreed to begin planning for it as soon as I returned to Chartwell.

And, indeed the 'Year on Iona' soon became a highly anticipated and prized addition to our program.

We sent the good brothers two to six boys each year, ones who were ready to start upper school. Every slave had the chance to go for one of two purposes:

• Either you were very good and the experience was designed to further broaden your 'education'.
• Or you were at the other end of the scale and we believed you would benefit from the strict discipline and demanding lives of the brothers.

One of our 'graduates' had taken his degree in child psychology and had returned to us to serve. He was so appreciative of his time at Chartwell, he would have gladly scrubbed floors if we had asked him to. But he provided the 'swing' squire who could take over a squad while its squire was on Iona. Since he had been one of them, and the boys knew that, he was highly admired. And we made sure he got his time with the Brothers, too.

The very first to go was Artie and Andrew was next. Unfortunately, we could not send Prudence. But she was more than happy just being Mistress of the House and 'mother superior' to all the boys and their squires.

To make the experience as authentic as possible, we insisted each party get there much as Robert, Tim and I had done. We dropped them at the southern end of Lake Windermere… frugally but suitable equipped, of course… and they had twelve days to hoof it to the RAF base just outside of Carlisle. From there, they were airlifted to Iona… the complications of taking a group of slaves by train and bus were not worth the fuss.

The copter dropped them on Iona and then returned the group who had completed their stay to us at Chartwell.

The 'Homecoming' was a holiday on the estate and it was heartwarming to welcome them back… often quite different young men than they had been before.

We were all a bit teary-eyed the next morning as I climbed to the highest point and fired off the single red flare. Twenty minutes later we were airborne, winging our way homeward. The twins had never flown before and were fascinated at the ever-changing panorama unfolding beneath them. A Sea King isn't exactly plush, but we cared not a whit.

We circled low over the estate, allowing us to see the welcoming crowd. His Majesty had issued a proclamation declaring Chartwell 'off limits' to everyone except residents. "It is their time to welcome the three travelers home. The rest of you may do so at young Robert's investiture." And he sent the Scots Guards to enforce it.

The slaves were drawn up in perfect formations, each Squad with its Squire standing beside it. "Artie always was a neatnick," I thought. I noticed that a boy in the front row of each held a small banner with an insignia. The adults… Artie, Prudence and all the others… were standing to one side, well back from the slave squads.

The copter had barely touched down when Robert and Tim jumped down and made a bee-line, running for their comrades. They were about halfway there when the neat formations dissolved and they were engulfed by a cheering, hugging mass of young bodies. Andrew and one of the other squires managed to fight their way to the twins and hoisted them on their shoulders to keep them from being trampled by their well-wishers. It wasn't slave discipline at all!

But who cared?

Two of their friends had returned! They knew Robert would shortly leave them to become their Master. But he had been one of them! And they knew he would keep their dream alive!

I jumped down and started toward Artie. We both broke into a run and met in the middle of the open space in a rush of love. We hugged and kissed for several minutes, but finally he held me at arms length.

"I missed you," he said softly.

"And I missed you!"

"But now you're home!"

And suddenly the meaning of what we had undergone struck me with the power of a physical blow, and I staggered for a moment.

Bobby and Peter, my dads, notwithstanding, these people… each and every one of them, but especially the young slaves and their squires… were my family!

And I was truly HOME!

Epilogue

"The twins now think of me as their father," I told my lover the first night in bed. "And Father Bertram blessed our union as a family. I'm sure, in time, they will come to think of you as their father too."

"Perhaps," he said. "But the three of you have been through something very special. So they may always feel differently about you. And, I'm OK with that."

"I was sure you would be, but it thrills me to hear you say that. Oh, Artie! How I missed your gentle touch, your warm arms around me in bed! But I have a confession to make. I know we said long ago that sex with any of the slave boys was out! But they were so lonely and frightened! I gave them what they needed! I felt guilty about it, but Father Bertram assured me it was ok to show them the love they had lost. And so I did!"

"But it doesn't change my feelings for you!" I assured him with some feelings of panic. How would he react to my 'infidelity'?

"Hey, big guy! I understand and I love you all the more for it. You did what they needed… and probably what you needed, too. All of you were far from home and friends and this was your link with us. I'm proud of you for what you did for these two lost ones. Thanks to you, they aren't lost any more."

"Well, I won't pretend I didn't enjoy sex with them," I admitted. "We had some pretty intense sessions."

"Really? Did they teach you anything?" he asked with a wicked grin. I punched his arm for that crack; I was too proud to admit they had.

It was some weeks before he told me that several of the younger boys had offered their bodies to him while I was gone. He had thanked them for their concern but turned them down, 'cause he knew I was coming back… soon, he hoped. One day he had overheard a conversation between two of them, "I offered to 'fill in' for Daniel Sir, but he said 'no thanks'. Daniel Sir must be a real stud if Artie Sir wants to wait until he comes back." Secure once more in our unbreakable love for each other, we both had a good laugh. Stud, indeed!

Squire Andrew had been a huge help to Artie during my absence and we both wanted to reward him by placing him in charge of all the slaves and their squires.

But he demurred.

"I'm deeply grateful," he told us. "And I'm proud to have been of service during your exile." I had not thought of it in that way, but I suppose it was. "But these boys are Pru's and my lives." He refused on almost every occasion to call them 'slaves'. They were young boys, his young boys.

"Pru and I cannot even imagine being separated from them. They're our family. They're our sons… those who have gone on to freedom, those who are here now and those who will come after. I would be honored to share ideas with all the squires, but my place is with our boys. I don't want to seem ungrateful, but that is our life and will be until God calls us home."

I wasn't surprised. I had expected as much and I was secretly pleased. "Oh, Andrew," I thought, "but for a thousand, thousand of you!"

The twins insisted their place was with their Squad until Robert actually became the Earl. Pru, however, would spend part of each day with them in the manor house, preparing them for their roles as free boys and peers. She might not have all the protocol quite correct… none of us were sure of it… but she enlisted help from one of the neighboring estates. So, we all had a crash-course on how to be peers.

At this stage, we didn't know quite what role or title would come to Tim. Prince Harry had suggested a small baron's title. After all, he would be Robert's heir for quite a few years. But Tim solved the problem for us. I should have seen it coming from the hint he had given when I had told them we could go home. He wanted to return to Iona and become one of the Brothers.

He and I flew down to London… we had an RAF jet always available to us now… and the King granted us an audience. He listened thoughtfully to Tim and then turned to me. "What do you think?"

"I think it's a noble calling."

"I agree," said His Majesty, turning once again to Tim. "I will have my Solicitor Royal draw the necessary papers freeing you from your enslavement and it will be the first proclamation the new earl will sign. Once you have completed upper school and university, you may respond to your call if it is still your wish."

"Thank you, Sire."

"There is one condition."

"Yes, Sire?"

"That we will be friends."

"It will be my deepest honor, Sire."

The day auspicious arrived and the whole estate was flooded with visitors. All the neighbors and almost every peer of the realm descended upon us. The slaveboys, resplendent in their new short tunics … sky blue with the Chartwell crest… did yeoman service caring for all the guests and I have never been more proud of them and their squires.

Shortly after lunch we all assembled on the lawn in front of the manor house, the squads drawn up in perfect formation. Robert, Artie and I stood in a section reserved for us. Robert, of course, would formally receive his title. I would receive my knighthood and my warrant… my appointment as Robert and Tim's guardian. Artie… I would have to get used to hearing him addressed as 'Sir Arthur'… would receive his knighthood. We were all somewhat nervous.

At the appointed hour, the King stepped from the manor house and, accompanied by his young sword-bearer, walked to the space reserved for him. As soon as he had stepped outside, every slave… including Robert… immediately went to his 'position'. His Majesty smiled and told them, "You may all rise. And thank you for your courteous and enthusiastic greeting."

Robert, dressed in his simple slave tunic and covering, rose, and at his sovereign's command, went forward, kneeling before the King.

The King placed his left hand on the boy's head, held his ceremonial sword aloft in his right hand, and spoke these ancient words:

"I, William Arthur Edward of the House of Windsor, by the Grace of God, King of Great Britain and Ireland and of Our realms beyond the seas, do absolve you Robert Marcus Crowell of any and all offenses of whatever kind against Our Realm and People and bid you enter unto My Service as a Free Yeoman with all the Rights and Privileges thereunto appertaining."

"Do you, Robert Marcus Crowell, swear fealty to and agree to serve Me as my Earl of Chartwell, the thirteenth of this line, with joy and reverence all the days of your life?"

"Then it is Done in the Earldom of Chartwell on Today's Most Propitious Date, the Fourth Day of June in the Year of Our Lord Two-Thousand and Forty-one and of My Reign, the Twenty-seventh. God save this Realm and All Its Peoples!"

Perhaps it had been a trick of the light, but during the King's proclamation I was sure I saw several persons standing with Robert… on his right, his father Marcus; on his left, his mother and behind him, Sir Robert, the Tenth Earl. "No!" I thought, "The excitement has me seeing things!"

Robert returned to his place and it was my turn, next. I went forward and knelt as he placed his hand on my head and spoke.

"I, William, sovereign, by the grace of God, of Great Britain and Ireland and of our Empire beyond the seas, reposing special faith and trust in our servant Daniel Robert Kenneth Nelson, do name him KNIGHT OF THE BRITISH EMPIRE, with all the Rights and Privileges thereunto appertaining, to hold such for as long as he shall grace Our presence upon this realm."

"And I furthermore nominate and appoint him Guardian of the person and property of Sir Marcus Robert Crowell, Earl of Chartwell, and his brother Timothy Andrew Crowell to remain as Guardian ad Litem until they, in the fullness of time, shall reach their majorities."

"Will you, Sir Daniel Robert Kenneth Nelson, be their mentor and friend, protecting them from all evil, and bring them to their fullness as free persons of this realm?"

"Then it is done in the Earldom of Chartwell on the Fourth Day of June in the Year of Our Lord Two-Thousand and Forty-one and of My Reign, the Twenty-seventh. God save this Realm and All Its Peoples!"

The King hesitated for a moment… this had not been protocol. Then he threw back his head and laughed, sweeping me into his arms and hugging me. "Well said, young Sir. And I shall always be your friend!"

I made it back to my place, and Artie accosted me, "Who were all those people out there with you? And where did they come from?"

"Then you saw them, too!"

"Of course. How could anyone have missed them?"

"I saw them," ventured Robert, "and I felt a hand on my shoulder."

"I think, perhaps, we three were the only ones who could see them. And I think you know who they were."

They both nodded.

The End… Really?