by Jon McDonald
“Please,” he pleaded one evening, as we left the warehouse and walked together towards our homes.
“But how would it look?” I asked in answer to his invitation.
“But you are my master,” he answered. “We can make up some reason for you to visit. It would not be untoward for you to call at your serf’s house. We can say you have come for an inspection of the property – for tax purposes, let’s say. Then it would be only hospitable to offer you some refreshment. You could stay and enter into conversation and before long I could bring out the instruments and my mother and I could perform for you. Before you knew it, we would have spent a whole evening together. What do you say?”
I nodded my head in thought. How I longed for us to be open together. And how greatly I wished to hold him in front of his family and kiss the back of his neck as I had seen my father do with my mother. “Yes, I think that might be possible,” I finally answered. We then walked together in silence, and he dared to take my hand in the gathering dusk.
“Are there others like us?” I asked, unafraid to so show my ignorance about such matters.
“There are.”
“How do you know? Have you been with a man before me?”
He looked at me, not quite sure how he should answer me, for fear he might upset me.
“I don’t mind if you have,” I said finally, to ease his hesitation.
“I have,” he answered. “But not many. There are places in the village where men can meet. But I have been with no one else since we have been together. Nor do I wish to.”
“Where in the village?” I wanted to know as much as I could about who we were.
“Why do you want to know? Want to sample other wares?” he teased and poked me in the arm.
“Just curious. I know so little.”
“Well, there is a place at the edge of the market, not far from the mill. And there is a place under the main bridge out of town, but only at night.”
“And you have been to these places?”
He nodded, “But not often.”
“Are there many of us?”
“More than you might imagine.”
He leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, as we were now at the point in the road where we had to part for our several ways home. He ran off with a quick look back at me and waved, as I stood and watched him till he had completely disappeared.
How greatly we both anticipated our journey to Strasbourg. We would recite the details of the trip together over and over again until the day finally arrived.
Sevaric was early to the warehouse that glorious day. It was now mid-August and it would be hot. We wanted to get an early start, to get as much travel time in as possible while it was still cool in the morning.
When I arrived he had already bridled the oxen, as the carts had been loaded and prepared for travel the day before. I made a quick inspection of the merchandise, gave final instructions to the supervisor at the warehouse, and we set out - a very respectable looking merchant and his assistant.
We traveled together most of the morning in silence. We each had to attend to the driving of a cart and so were separated and preoccupied with that task. However, we would shout out to each other on occasion, pointing out a feature in the landscape or throwing the water flask between us from cart to cart.
Just before noon we pulled off the road. Since I had made this trip many times before I knew of this secluded resting place. A quiet field bordered a sparking stream, rushing briskly towards the Rhine. We uncoupled the oxen and let them drink and graze. I pulled out the basket my mother had prepared for the trip. A gaggle of geese honked across the stream and seemed to protest our intrusion upon their acknowledged terrain. We sought comfort under a tree near the brook, secluded from inspection from the road, and spread out a hearty mid-day meal before us. Both of us were hungry and quickly satisfied ourselves with my mother’s delicious contribution to our journey.
We lay back against the trunk of a large Sycamore and closed our eyes briefly, enjoying the peace and the sound of the brook, coolly passing beside us. Sevaric reached over and took my hand. I opened my eyes and turned towards him. His eyes were still closed, but he had a look of such sweet contentment that I could not bring myself to disturb this tranquil moment. Slowly he opened his eyes and turned towards me and we leaned towards each other and kissed. Little did I know what that kiss would eventually cost us.
I knew that we would have to arrive at the shipping yards in Strasbourg before they were closed and secured for the night. We needed to store our carts and merchandise in the yard for protection. So after our refreshment, we corralled the oxen, bridled them, and progressed on our way.
The rest of the afternoon was uneventful, but we were spurred on by our desire to reach the city and finally be alone together. We actually arrived a little early, disposed of the carts, secured the oxen for the night, and repaired as quickly as possible to the inn.
By my foresight I had written to the inn in advance and reserved the very best room for our stay. We decided that during our first evening we would have our dinner in the room and spend the remainder of the evening in each other’s arms.
There are some things that I cannot put down in this discourse, even if they will never be read by anyone but me. Some events so private and glorious, that I cannot find the words to express them, even to myself.
Suffice it to say, that to us, our union was sacred. I am very well aware that this statement is blasphemy in the eyes of the world I live in now. And I am aware that we are threatened with forever damnation in the eyes of that world. By that world’s standards, in the life hereafter, my mind and my soul may be forever in torment; but my body knows differently. Somewhere there is a realm where our love is real, recognized and honored. I may never find that place, but I know it exists. I will forever celebrate our union, and no man, woman, churchman, lieutenant, officer or king on high can negate our love. Do what they may; my soul and very being shall ever resist their ignorant tyranny.
Too soon came the end of our business in Strasbourg, and it was time to return home. Sevaric was in the shipping yard bridling the oxen. We had bought provisions to transport home in the empty carts. I slipped away, unseen, for just a moment. There was a silversmith’s stall just around the corner. I made a quick purchase and returned before Sevaric even noticed I was gone.
We proceeded on our journey home, and stopped again at the field and brook for our lunch, purchased from the inn. As we sat at the base of the Sycamore, having just finished eating, I reached over and took Sevaric’s hand. He looked up at me.
I reached into my pocket and took out the two silver rings I had bought from the smith. I didn’t say a word but slipped one ring on his finger and then one on mine. He just leaned forward and took me in his arms tears streaming down his face.
“Oh, Warin…” was all he could say.
We separated and looked at each other as we held hands, still seated on the ground.
“I wanted us to wear them now. But when we get back home, they must not be seen.” I pulled out two chains. “We must wear them like this.” I took off my ring and put it on the chain, then the chain around my neck, and tucked it inside my shirt. “Close to my heart.”
He did the same. Then he held his hand over the ring inside his shirt.
“Forever,” he said, and we nodded to each other.
Twelfth of May 1347
News and rumors have been rampant in the county the past few days. It seems that a barge pulled into port in Strasbourg recently, and it is reported that many of the crew were dead or dying from the plague. The ship was immediately quarantined, but that has not quelled the panic, nor stopped the locals from arming themselves to ward off strangers from coming into this area. I am afraid we shall now be entering into a time of even more mistrust and violence.
I feel that I must act quickly to complete this narrative as I do not know if we will have to retire to another part of the country, or even if my own
health will be endangered in any way.
To continue the story: My beloved Sevaric and I returned home from our journey to Strasbourg. It had been a very successful venture financially, as we have been promised a handsome price for our goods when they reach their final destination. My father did seem pleased with the results; but surprisingly, he responded with much less enthusiasm than I had anticipated. But for Sevaric and me the significance of the journey was not in the success of the business, but in the happiness we shared together at the inn.
It was very difficult for Sevaric and me the first few days after our return. We had become accustomed, in just a short while, to openly express our affection for one another, and to experience our equality together. So it came as a great shock to be back in the warehouse as master and serf. We were developing, however, a new language of looks and gestures that was known only to us, and provided us with some comfort when we were in public together.
Never once were we able to be alone together through an entire night as we had been in Strasbourg, but we were still able to meet secretly, away from our homes or the warehouse. But it would not be too long before autumn and winter would arrive, and we would have to seek more accommodating places to meet than the open countryside.
Then one morning we had an unexpected opportunity to be together again in an intimate way. It was a Sunday and my entire family was off at church. I remained behind, as we were expecting a new horse from Paris, and I was elected to greet the handlers when they arrived.
I was out in the barn overseeing the preparation of a stall for the new stallion, when I spied Sevaric walking through the open field near the spot where we had first united. I called out to him. He saw me and came running over, arriving flushed and breathless. I finished my inspection of the horse accommodations and invited him to follow me, making sure that I was very proper in my relations with him in front of the grooms.
We went into the kitchen, but all of the servants, too, were at church. Away from prying eyes I took him in my arms, and then said, “Come.” I lead him up the back stairs to my residential wing and we secluded ourselves behind my closed and locked door. I knew we only had a brief time together, as I could see where the sun touched my writing table and could calculate how far it would travel before my family would return from church.
I flung Sevaric onto my bed and we satisfied ourselves in an almost violent manner, such was our pent up passion. Lying together after, I gazed into his eyes and put my hand up to his cheek.
“You have not shaved today,” I commented, kissing his cheek and feeling the stubble.
“Is it too rough for you?”
I shook my head. “It makes you seem more comely.”
“Then I shall never shave again.”
I laughed. “No, I would not like you with a full beard either. You would seem too much like my father, and that would put me off completely,” I teased.
He looked at me again without speaking for quite some time and then at last spoke. “Warin, you will be marrying soon.” I could see the sadness in his eyes. “What will happen to us then?”
“There will be nothing different for us. For my father the marriage is only about the property he wants to acquire. For me, my marriage has already occurred – that night in the field, and again in Strasbourg.
“But you will have duties to perform as a married man.”
I reflected upon his words for a moment. “Yes, so I have been told. But I honestly do not know if I am capable of that. And what about you? Won’t your parents expect you to marry soon?”
“I will not marry another, I am already married.”
“But your family, won’t they insist?”
“My mother knows about us, and will not insist.”
I was shocked. “You told her?”
He laughed. “No, she told me.”
“What?”
“She is a very perceptive woman. It did not take her long to understand us. Especially after that night you visited us and we played music.”
“And she is not angry? Did she tell your father?”
“No to both of your questions.”
Just then I heard the sound of horses and a carriage pulling up in front of the house. I jumped out of bed, rushed to the window, and saw my family alighting from our carriage; and at the same time the drovers arrived with our new stallion.
“Dress!” I shouted. “I have not watched the hour closely enough.” I rushed to him and took him in my arms as he was trying to put on his pants. He struggled and laughed. But I held tightly, as though it would be our last time together, for I did not know when we would be able to share this bed again.
I must stop here now. I am overcome with the thoughts of what is to come. I need to prepare myself to continue later.
Fifteenth of May 1347
Despite my great heartache I must complete this narrative.
Not long after that Sunday when Sevaric and I had shared my bed, there came a morning when breakfast was very tense and unusually strange. My father was restless and would not look me in the eye. I suspected that he and my mother had quarreled, and dismissed it as a family matter that did not concern me.
I appeared at the warehouse, prepared to work, expecting to find Sevaric, who was usually there before me. I enquired of the other workers if they had seen him; I thought perhaps he had gone on an errand. But he had not been seen at all that day.
I went to the counting room and began my work. I became engrossed in some accounts and was slow to react when the door opened. I looked up with a great smile, expecting to see Sevaric, but instead beheld my father. He had a very grim expression, and I began to suspect that his behavior that morning at breakfast might have concerned me without my knowing it.
“Good morning, again, father,” I tried to greet him with some welcome in my voice. “We have not seen you here for some time. Is there a problem?” I began to suspect that he was going to chastise me for some improper accounts, or that there might be a problem with the upcoming shearing.
“You are to come with me now,” was all he said, but it was very clear that there was some great trouble at hand.
I arose from my table and accompanied him, not into the warehouse as I expected, but out to the street and towards the town square. He grabbed my arm with great force, hurting me, and led me forward without a single word.
“Father, what is going on? Please explain to me what the trouble is.” I was beginning to become deeply frightened.
“I saw you - during your trip to Strasbourg. You and that boy – kissing in a field. Such indecency. I have been troubled about you for some time. Now I know why.”
“You? How?”
“The day of your departure for Strasbourg, I needed to present you with some letters that I wanted delivered. You were already gone when I arrived at the warehouse. I followed after, and came upon the both of you while you were stopped in that field.”
“Then why didn’t you present yourself to us?”
“I was not alone. Magistrate Baldoc had accompanied me. We were so shocked I did not know how to proceed. We returned home.”
“Oh God.” I looked around me, hoping to see Sevaric. “Where is he? What will happen?”
“Your family name has saved you lad, but there must be consequences.”
“Where are we going? Where is Sevaric? Has something happened to him?”
“You best be concerned only for yourself, just now. It has taken a great effort on my part to keep you out of this.”
“Father…”
By now we had reached the town square. There was quite a large crowd pushing towards the center and it was growing by the minute. My father pulled me into a doorway and up a flight of stairs at the town hall. We emerged into an empty chamber. He pulled me over to a small balcony and we stood looking down on the square below. In the center of the square was a scaffold with a central pillar, and surrounding it a large construction of faggots for a fire. I knew immediately what it was and turned to fle
e, desperate to find Sevaric and save him. My father, being a much stronger man than I, grabbed me and held me firmly, forcing me to take in the scene as it unfolded below.
My father gave a nod to someone I could not see, and immediately Sevaric appeared in the company of several officers. His mother rushed forward and clung to him, screaming and crying. She was pulled violently away, and Sevaric was led directly to the scaffold and tied securely to the central pillar. His arms were not restricted, so that he would be allowed to pray. He was close enough so that I could clearly see his face. He was not in fear. He scanned the crowd, saw me, and smiled his secret smile. I could not cry out to him as my father had his hand over my mouth so I would not betray myself.
The crowd started to become restless and agitated. They pushed in closer to the center. A magistrate read out a proclamation accusing Sevaric of sodomy and unnatural acts against God, and the crowd responded with cries of “Light the faggots! Light the faggots! Burn!”
The magistrate raised his hand and the crowd quieted momentarily. He gestured towards two men standing by the side with lighted torches. They came forward, and touching the fire to the base of the prepared woodpile the flames shot quickly upwards. The crowd became frantic, chanting their cries of “Burn” and dancing wildly around the pyre as though it was a special holiday.
Sevaric remained calm. He spoke not a word, but having found me, his gaze never left me. He reached up with his free hand and pulled out the ring on the chain around his neck. He held it out towards me until the flames engulfed him and his head fell forward, like when I had seen him nod off, just before he fell asleep at my side. I closed my eyes, still securely in my father’s arms, but no tears would come. For me there was only the smell of his burning flesh.
Twentieth of May 1347
Our worst fears are being realized. I have heard reports that a case of the plague has been discovered in the village. I have been conferring with my family about what course of action we must all take, but there have been no firm plans yet formed. I feel even more urgency now to complete my tale.
