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The Earl's ManChapter 1 free porn video
In March 1286, I finally reached my sixteenth birthday. After years of eagerly awaiting the official passage to adulthood, it was almost anticlimactic. For much of the night before, I stared up at the thatched roof of our home, wondering at how much I had accomplished before formally becoming an adult.
At the age of six, my father, the Captain of the Guard for the Earl of Lancaster, gave me my first bow, admonishing me that he expected me to practice with it daily, promising me a longbow when I proved myself both capable and worthy of such a valuable weapon. And practice I did--often to the consternation of my mother. By the time I was ten, my aim was better than all but one of my father’s archers, although I had an expectedly shorter range. When I went out to collect firewood, I would spend half the morning or afternoon practicing and even hunting.
One of the local villagers, the Earl’s aging huntsman, was looking for someone to begin replacing him. Long treks in the cold, wet, and snow were becoming difficult for him. Seeing my desire and dedication, he took me under his wing, teaching me to track and hunt in return for half of what I killed. As winter progressed, we had to range farther and farther from town to find game, always careful not to trespass onto the Earl’s private lands unless the huntsman was specifically scouting game for one of the Earl’s hunts. I guess, technically, they were all the Earl’s lands, but he had designated part of them as off limits to everyone but himself and his special guests. Anyone caught poaching was punished severely. Public flogging was the usual punishment for a first offense--death was a possibility for a second offense. The hunter also showed me how to construct several types of temporary shelters, as well as the location of several natural shelters. My favorite one was a comfortable, albeit damp, cave behind the falls below the mill.
My mother showed her appreciation for the steady supply of game I brought home by making sure I had warm clothing for my winter hunting forays. She and my sister cured the pelts of the animals I brought home. I had a pair of socks that fit inside of my boots and a pair of gloves, both made from rabbit pelts, to keep my feet and hands warm. I also had a fur-lined, sheepskin overcoat with a hood and a fur hat to wear alone or under my rain cloak if it was foggy, raining, or snowing. Of course, when I outgrew them, my mother or sister eagerly claimed them. Once my sister outgrew them, they were traded to other villagers.
My sister, Abigail, or Abby as we called her, asked me during the winter I turned ten if I would keep my eyes open for a swarm of bees and help her capture it the following spring. When I agreed, she hugged me excitedly. “You are the best brother a girl could ever have. I just wish I could marry you when I get old enough,” she sighed still hugging me tightly, much to the amusement of my mother. My mother told me later that she was proud of how well I treated my sister; it boded well for the way I would treat a wife when I married.
Throughout that winter, Abby spent as much time as possible at the cottage of the serf who was the Earl’s apiarist. There, she learned how to weave skeps out of straw, capture a swarm, care for a hive, and then extract the honey from the hive. After the first hive she and I captured, she expanded to anywhere between twelve and twenty hives, selling much of the honey and using the honeycomb to make candles, some of which she sold. With the honey, we also had a steady supply of mead and they made a little extra money selling it, too. We actually captured her first hive that first winter when I robbed a wild hive I’d seen a bear trying to get at. Not only did we get the honey and wax for candles from the huge hive, but there was enough to save some of the comb with honey, along with the queen, the honeycomb with the eggs, and a good number of drones that we put into Abby’s first hastily woven skep.
Every full moon, I would measure myself against the mark my father had notched years before on the doorframe at 5’6”. I agonized over the slow progress I was making towards reaching the mark. Shortly before my twelfth year, though, I began making rapid progress, reaching it two weeks after my twelfth birthday.
It was the proudest day of my life to that point when my father took me to the barracks and fitted me with a longbow. I couldn’t believe it when he took me to see the Earl afterwards. Awed at being allowed into the main hall of the Manor House where the Earl conducted most of his business, I almost forgot to bow until my father elbowed me in the ribs. Smiling at my awe and eagerness, the Earl presented me with a leather quiver full of hunting arrows, promising to take me hunting with him when I had mastered the longbow. I saw the pride on Father’s face when the Earl made the offer. The Earl reserved invitations to hunt for visiting nobility, although he always took a small cadre of his troops with him.
I managed to remember to thank the Earl and promised to be ready to serve him as an archer if the need arose. He was smiling indulgently when my father almost had to drag me out. Back at the barracks, the archers presented me with a leather bracer for each arm, and my father gave me the deerskin quiver my mother and sister had made for me, one full of practice arrows. Several of my father’s archers led me to the butts to try out my new bow while Father went back to his duties.
The other archers were surprised that I could actually draw the six-foot bow, but my father had made sure that I wouldn’t embarrass him or myself. He had tied a length of rope to a good-sized rock and ran the rope over a sturdy branch tied between two trees at our cottage. I had to practice my drawing motion, pulling the rope to me with my right arm twenty-five times every day, then turn my back to the rock and reverse the motion with my left arm to strengthen it, too. He had changed the rock twelve times over the last two years. The current rock was more than ten times the size of the original one.
My first attempt with the bow embarrassed me thoroughly, barely hitting the wood of the target at a hundred yards. The archers, on the other hand, were highly impressed. Evidently, most of them frequently missed the entire target with their initial attempts at using a longbow.
When my practice quiver was empty, I had at least hit the target with all twenty-four arrows. Half of those--mostly later shots--actually hit the outline of the man on the target. I felt ten feet tall as I walked home and everyone saw me with a real longbow and two quivers of arrows. I even left the leather bracers on so everyone would know that I had actually been using the bow.
I had to be up well before dawn for my thirteenth birthday, even though I didn’t know why. I could tell that it was important, though, since both parents looked extremely proud. I was led to the Earl’s stables and given a horse to ride for the day. The six archers and four pikemen accompanying my father and me were grinning as we mounted our horses.
The Earl came out to meet us when we stopped in front of the Manor House, greeting my father. “Captain Miller, let’s give your lad a trial today. We’ll go to the north woods above the mill and see if we can find the big boar that has eluded us for so long.”
As we rode, my father quietly explained to me the proper etiquette during a hunt with the Earl. The Earl always got the first shot, and I wasn’t to attempt a shot unless he allowed me to. He also warned me that the boar we were going to hunt had eluded them for several years and had injured someone in the hunting party the last three times they had gone looking for him. It would usually lie in wait and charge with no warning. Although twice the size of any boar he’d ever seen, it moved faster than any he’d ever seen.
The Earl got the first two rabbits before offering me a shot. I caught mine in mid-hop, pinning him to a tree. The Earl was clapping me on the back congratulating me when I saw motion out of the corner of my eye. Out of habit, I had already nocked another arrow, and spun to find the biggest boar I’d ever seen bearing down on the Earl. Instinctively, I shouldered the Earl roughly out of the way, and as we fell, drew and released my arrow.
As the boar went by, a searing pain tore through the side of my right leg. Certain that I’d missed, and that the boar would be back for another try at us, I grabbed another arrow and nocked it before I hit the ground. When I bounced, I twisted myself so I was lying on my left side and sought my target. The boar was lying in a heap at my father’s feet, a single arrow through one eye and buried in its head. The other archers were in varying degrees of readiness with their own bows, and the pikemen were standing at the ready, their pikes mere inches from the boar lest it move. All were staring open-mouthed at the body of the huge boar.
When two of the men hurried over to the Earl to help him up, it finally dawned on me just what I’d done. Aghast, I turned to the Earl and started to beg his forgiveness for pushing him down, at least until I blacked out.
I was being put on a hastily rigged travois when I came to. “The Earl!” I cried out to my father who was leaning over me.
“The Earl is unharmed and eternally grateful to you,” his voice commented from behind my father. Sitting up, I looked down at my leg. The wound was tightly bound, but my pant leg, lower foot, ankle, and boot were covered with drying blood.
“The boar grazed you when he went by. As long as we clean the wound properly, it should leave you a nice scar to impress the girls with, but nothing worse,” Father advised, grinning.
The troops put the boar on a second travois to carry it back to town. When we got close to town, the Earl stopped our procession and talked quietly with my father for a moment. When they finished, Father rode over to me and asked if I felt up to riding the rest of the way. “It would look a lot more impressive to everyone in town if you rode back in rather than being dragged back in on a pallet,” he chuckled before riding back to his spot.
I was dying to get off the damn pallet, quickly re-mounting my horse, even though my lower leg still throbbed. At his insistence, I even rode next to the Earl who thanked me several more times before we got to town.
After making sure that everyone nearby had seen the boar and heard the story, the Earl had it taken to my mother as a gift--a very large gift, but one that made my mother even prouder than she already had been. She eventually made me a pair of loose leg coverings to wear over my pants out of the extremely tough hide. I used them when I was hunting to help protect my legs from thorns and thistles. The highlight of the entire incident, though, was when the Earl’s beautiful daughter kissed me on the cheek. I wasn’t naïve enough, even at age thirteen, to think for a moment that I ever had a chance to court the daughter of the Earl. Aside from the fact that she was two years older than I was, she was, obviously, nobility--and would marry nobility.
The blacksmith’s daughter, Margaret, sought me out as I hobbled home, asking me to tell her all about the hunting trip. Margaret and I had played together constantly as children and were still best friends. I skipped over the part of the story where I passed out and was brought back on a pallet, and she ooohed and aaahed at the rest of my story, insisting on seeing my injury. Once she saw it, she had me wait, sitting in the shade of a chestnut tree while she ran home to get herbs to treat the wound. Her mother was the best herbalist in town and Margaret had learned a lot from watching and helping her over the years.
When Margaret got back, she thoroughly washed and dried my leg and foot before covering the gash with a poultice of some kind and then a new wrapping. While she tended my wound, I noticed the view she was providing me of her nicely formed but still nascent cleavage. It was the first time I’d noticed her as a woman and not a girl. I had to keep my arm in my lap the rest of the time to hide the reaction I had to the view and to her touch. I squirmed while she scrubbed at the wound, less from the pain than from trying surreptitiously to rearrange myself to alleviate the discomfort in the front of my pants.
My mother smiled mysteriously later when I told her that Margaret had bound and cleaned my wound and put a poultice on it. She was smiling the same way the next morning when Margaret showed up at our home to care for me again. When Margaret finished, she and my mother went outside and talked for a while. Margaret showed up every morning and evening to care for me but I was blissfully ignorant of her motives until my mother reminded me at the end of the week that I would need to talk to Margaret’s father if I intended to court her.
Between the crimson color of my face and my best imitation of a fish while I tried to get my mouth to function properly, she realized just how unaware I’d been of Margaret’s intentions. We then discussed my feelings for Margaret and I realized just how good of a choice she was as a wife. Currently three inches taller than I was, she promised to be a tall woman. A tall wife would be a bonus since I towered over boys my own age and promised to be at least as tall as Father’s 6’ 6”.
The daughter of a blacksmith, she was sturdily built and stronger than most boys our age. I’d even seen her practicing with some of the swords her father made or occasionally repaired, as well as the crossbows he repaired. While she definitely didn’t have the same petite figure the Earl’s daughter did, her large, muscular frame was still proportional and quite attractive. Her face was pretty and her eyes captivated me. Aside from that, our mothers were cousins, so our families knew each other well. That should make getting permission to court her easier. Yes, she would definitely make an excellent wife.
Her father grinned that afternoon when I approached him and nervously asked permission to court his daughter. As strong as my hands and arms were from using the bow all the time, I felt like a small child again when he engulfed my hand in his and pumped my arm up and down energetically while he gave me permission. When I asked Margaret that evening if I could court her, I got my first real kiss, much to the amusement of my mother.
Suddenly it seemed a foregone conclusion that we would be married. Our families sat together at church so Margaret and I could sit with each other. After church, I spent Sunday with her family and ate dinner with them. Even the Earl commented on what a fine choice I’d made when he took me hunting the next time, alleviating my worry about getting his approval when I finally asked his permission to marry her. Technically, I didn’t have to ask since both of our parents were freemen, but with my father being his Captain, it was still a good idea to ask.
On that hunt, we had quietly followed a set of large deer tracks in the early dawn light, one I’d found yesterday for the hunt. We finally caught a glimpse of it below us from the top of a hill we’d reached just as the morning sun crested over the hilltop. “What a magnificent animal!” the Earl gasped quietly. He insisted that I take the shot since the buck was far enough away that he wasn’t confident of making the shot, and the ground between the buck and us was steep enough that the deer would surely have heard us coming. The buck never knew we were there as I made a final adjustment in my aim and let the arrow fly.
“You missed,” the Earl gasped, surprised.
“Your Grace,” I said, keeping my voice even while still watching where my arrow had hit, “I don’t know the proper etiquette for this, but right now, you might be in danger. I was aiming at a large wolf in the bushes that was stalking one of the fawns. I think I hit it, but I can’t be sure. And there is always a chance of more than one wolf in the area,” I advised.
“You continue to impress me young Master Miller,” the Earl replied, then turned and headed for his horse. I hadn’t seen any more wolves by the time I half climbed and half slid to the bottom of the hill and approached the clump of bushes carefully, bow drawn, making a wide circle until I could see my prey. It looked dead, but I put one more arrow into the head before approaching.
By then, I heard horses approaching. The Earl was impressed with the huge wolf, and the archers with him were nervously scanning the entire area for more wolves. Even the horses were skittish when they caught the wolf’s scent.
After regaling half of the town with the tale of the wolf, the Earl surprised me. In the ensuing excitement, I’d forgotten that there was a bounty for anyone killing a wolf until the Earl presented me with a small pouch containing twenty shillings--the equivalent of a Pound, the bounty for one wolf and about four months’ wages for one of his archers. He also gave me permission to hunt wolves in any section of the forest whenever I wanted.
When I got home, I suggested to my mother that I buy a cow to augment the two the family already had so that Margaret and I would have a cow when we married. My mother and sister sold or bartered milk and butter and over time had earned more than what Father had paid for the two cows. She approved of the idea. With another cow, they would have enough extra milk to start making cheese. My mother suggested that a fair deal would be for her to give me half of what they made selling the cheese and keep the other half as compensation for tending the cow and preparing and selling the cheese. I thought it was extremely fair.
She also suggested that I begin collecting the other things Margaret and I would need for our home. She, Margaret, and Margaret’s mother spent two evenings creating two lists. The first was things we absolutely had to have. The second was things that would be nice to have, but which would probably have to be purchased or made after we were married. They also agreed that Margaret’s father would make her dowry--an iron-tipped plow, a leather harness, and a yoke, as well as the other tools we’d need to plant and maintain our garden. In addition, I paid him to make me a set of woodworking tools and I put those tools to good use over the next two winters making the furniture we would need.
My father had a surprise for me when he came home that Thursday night and asked if I still intended to buy a cow. When I told him I did, he said that he had an offer to purchase two good cows for only sixteen shillings; I’d expected to pay ten for one good cow. He smiled and told me that the Earl found out I was buying a cow and offered to sell me two of his for sixteen shillings. I was ecstatic. Not only did the Earl have the finest cows, but I would have enough left to buy a couple of chickens from my mother and still pay Margaret’s father to make me the woodworking tools. Before lunch the next day, I was proudly leading two cows home after repeatedly thanking the Earl.
The Earl had made sure I chose two cows that were pregnant. I spent the next several evenings expanding the fenced area where we kept the cows, as well as expanding the lean-to barn and the chicken coop. I also built a small smokehouse for my mother and sister to use for smoking some of the extra fish and game I constantly brought home. Some of the game they sold to or bartered with people from the village, again splitting the profits with me. Anyone wanting fresh meat would usually stop by our cottage or the other hunter’s cottage to see if any was available, or would ask my mother to keep them in mind the next time I brought home extra. We found out there was a bigger demand for meat in the winter when it was harder to find and there wasn’t as much fresh meat available. The smoked meat brought a higher price during the winter. They began selling a little bit less fresh and smoked more of it. Of course, this required me to build a much larger pantry onto the house.
The mate of the male wolf I killed was easy to find by following the tracks of the one I had killed to where his tracks crossed hers. Originally, I was searching for signs of any other wolves, not specifically looking for his mate. After killing her a week later, I followed her tracks back to their den and eliminated her four half-grown pups before they could grow into adult wolves. Wolf pups less than a year old only received a reward ten Schillings, half the rate of an adult, so I only earned sixty shillings--still a veritable fortune to me. I bought a sturdy horse that I could use for hunting as well as plowing, and my father took the rest of my money to London that autumn when the Earl made his annual trip.
When they returned, he had everything on the first list and over half of the second list. Prices in London were considerably cheaper, and when he used the same merchants the Earl did, they gave him a good price on everything. Not only had he gotten considerably more than I could have gotten locally, but the things he bought were generally of a higher quality. He also brought back a trained hunting dog about which I’d asked. It was a lymer, a predecessor of the bloodhound. The lymer was bred to track, but trained to do so quietly so as not to alert prey. I named him Sniffy since Abby always laughed at the way he constantly sniffed at everything and everyone.
On the autumn trip to London the following year, my father brought back the rest of the things on the second list, and the few things added to the list over the last year, including a surprise for my soon-to-be-wife--a featherbed. My father teased me about how much more comfortable it was sleeping on the ground all the way back from London with the featherbed. He also brought back a chain mail shirt and helmet for me since English law required every freeman with ten marks’ worth of goods to have them. With the value of the furniture I’d made, my three cows, bull, horse, and the dozen or so chickens, I was definitely at that point. I was also proud to have acquired enough at such a young age that I needed the chain mail and helmet.
We were married in early October, the Sunday after Margaret’s fifteenth birthday. Even the Earl attended to see Margaret and I pledge our troth in front of the Bishop and nearly everyone else in town. A month before we married, I had rented a moderate cottage from the Earl, one right next to my parents, and moved in the things I’d accumulated. Earlier in the year, the older hunter had passed away in his sleep and I became his official replacement. By the time we married, I had expanded and strengthened the lean-to against the house for the animals, enlarged the fenced corral for the horse and cows, as well as the coop for the chickens. I even laid in a good supply of firewood. I plowed the area I had chosen for the garden next spring so it would be easier to plow and plant in the spring. Since they didn’t use it, the old couple living next to us agreed to let me use half of their land to grow forage for the horse and cows. Rather than asking for cash, they eagerly chose to accept payment throughout the year in the form of eggs, meat, cheese, and milk.
Since she hadn’t seen the inside of the cottage yet, Margaret gasped when I carried her across the threshold. Practically dragging me to the bedroom, she showed me just how much she liked the way I’d furnished our home. Then she showed me again just how much she liked the featherbed, quite a change from the straw mattress she was used to. We had barely redressed and come out of the bedroom when our families showed up with supper. Afterwards, Margaret finally took the opportunity to explore the interior more thoroughly, along with everyone else. She hugged and thanked Abby for the curtains, the embroidery on the tablecloth with our names and wedding date, and for helping my mother last winter when she made a down comforter for our marriage bed. The mothers smiled as Margaret wandered around the house exploring and sighing happily every time she found something new. When our families finally left, she again dragged me to the bedroom and thanked me enthusiastically.
When I woke up eager to go again in the middle of the night, we discovered that she was too sore. While I snuggled against her and told her that I understood, she decided that she wasn’t going to leave her new husband unsatisfied. Rolling me onto my back, she tentatively touched her tongue to the tip of my cock, and then slowly started licking the shaft before forming her lips into an “O” and enveloping my now raging erection in her hot, wet mouth.
Watching in the near darkness as her breasts swayed and my cock slid in and out of her sexy mouth, I came quickly. That was when she realized that she didn’t know what she was supposed to do with my cum. She finally swallowed it, and then turned to me with a predatory gleam in her eyes. “Is my husband satisfied yet or should I do it again?” she asked in a sultry voice.
“Your husband was satisfied before you did that and is deliriously happy now. However, feel free to do it anytime you want to,” I replied. Her mother had explained the basics of oral sex to her for use when she was pregnant or on her period so she could keep her husband happy. I didn’t realize until she told me that every other girl in town would have eagerly taken her place in an instant. We had started our married life with more than most families managed to accumulate after years, my father was highly respected in town, and everyone knew that the Earl liked me. In addition, I was an excellent provider, and considered quite handsome.
We settled into a routine of sorts. After checking with the Earl about what forests farther away from town I was permitted to hunt in, I would occasionally spend two or three days at a time away from home riding into the hills and mountains away from populated areas. Arriving back afterwards at my parents’ home with my horse weighted down with rabbits, squirrels, ducks, geese, and occasionally a deer or boar on a travois, it quickly became apparent that I needed a second horse to use as a packhorse.
I got lucky and found a farmer on one of my hunts who had a colt he would be unable to feed during the coming winter. I traded him everything I had loaded on my horse for the colt with the promise to bring another load within a month. I had originally planned on waiting until I could sell a young cow to buy the horse and felt very fortunate to have gotten such a good deal. I even managed to kill a few more rabbits before I got home so I didn’t return empty-handed. Margaret always went to my parent’s home with me when I returned from hunting and she, my mother, and my sister skinned and prepared the animals, and then took care of the pelts.
I continued to keep my eyes open for hives of wild bees during the spring and summer. After the snow began, I borrowed a wagon from Margaret’s father and took Margaret and Abby with me, as well as a ladder I had made. We raided as many of the hives as we could in two days, filling buckets, barrels, and tubs full of the sticky honeycomb. Before we married, I slept under the wagon at night and the girls slept in the wagon. It was a little crowded sleeping together in the wagon the winter after we married, as my sister insisted on sleeping with us, leaving me sandwiched between two women all night. It was a nice feeling except that it left me horny and unable to do anything about it until Margaret and I got home.
After the night of reflection before my sixteenth birthday, Margaret gave me the ultimate birthday gift--she told me she was pregnant. For the next month, I was in a daze as I went through the motions of my daily work. Our parents laughed at me, remembering their first. My list of herbs to watch for while I hunted got longer as I kept both Margaret and her mother well supplied with more than a dozen different plants difficult to find near town.
Throughout that spring and summer, the Earl had frequent guests, other nobles, or their representatives, and often went hunting with them. Part of my job was to go out beforehand and locate a boar or deer. The morning of the hunt, I would take one of his troops with me while I located it again, and then send the rider back to the Manor House to lead the Earl and his guest to me. I left easy tells for them to follow when they arrived.
As the summer wore on, I sensed a shift in the Earl’s mood, feeling that he was apprehensive about something. The hunts became fewer and farther between as something weighed on his mind.
Anastasia
- 15.01.2022
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