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Tales Of Sherwood, Part 4: Sed Diabolus

By Anthony Samhain

submitted April 14, 1999

Categories: Medieval Romance

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"Sed Diabolus" [Only the Devil Laughed] by Anthony Samhain

You know the drill -- like it, hate it, comments, criticism, etc: tgrnyc@hotmail.com DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDERAGE OR OFFENDED BY MALE-MALE SEX.

"Sed diabolus in invidia sua istud irrisit, qua nullum opus Dei intactum dimisit" [Only the devil laughed honor to scorn; in his envy he left no work of God untouched] -- Hildegard Von Bingen (1098-1179)

Will Scarlet regarded the stranger called Alain for a moment. "Welcome to our village," he said. Alain gave Will a nod and looked around him. "It is truly lovely out here. Much better than that awful cesspool called Nottingham." "That would be the Sheriff's fault," came a voice from behind them. Will, Robert, and Alain turned to see a tall, acorn-skinned man with long, black hair that was tied up in a ponytail. His eyes were so dark that the pupils could not be easily discerned. Alain took a subtle step back. "Who is our guest?" the man asked. "I ... I am called Alain."

"I am Jonathon." Alain shook Jonathon's hand, which brought the larger man a step closer. "P-Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise, I am sure. So, Alain, what do you think of our little village?" Alain looked around. "Quite nice, actually." Jonathon eyed Alain suspiciously. The young Frenchman quivered a little. Jonathon gave Alain a small smile. "Well, you are welcome here, Alain. But we ask that you must not reveal what goes on here to outsiders. We--"

"Oh, don't worry," Alain interrupted. "I've come here because I need your help. My cousin has been captured by the Sheriff." Robert of Locksley had been listening from a short distance and he came closer upon hearing these words. "We are dedicated to help anyone who is in need of deliverance from that ... that soiled pig!" Robert spat the last word.

"I would be grateful to you if you could help me, Monsieur Robert. My cousin is innocent. She never missed a tax payment. Next thing I know, I get a letter from my aunt telling me about what happened. I knew that my only hope would be to try and find you and ask for your help!"

"How come you weren't afraid to come here?" Will asked. "Pourquoi? Why would I be afraid?"

"Most people don't wish to enter our forest because it's haunted," Jonathon supplied.

"Oh, that. Well, I am not afraid of ghosts."

"Is that right?" Jonathon queried.

"Lay off, Jon," Robert said. "This man has come to us for help. We must give it to him." Robert turned to Alain. "We'll come up with a plan later this evening. Then we will head out to rescue your cousin in the morning."

"Oh, merci, Monsieur Robert! I am indeed grateful for your assistance."

Alain pronounced the last word as "ahseestawnce" and put the stress on the last syllable. "Our victory celebration will continue until well into the evening," Robert said.

"Feel free to participate, or to go and rest." Robin Hood turned his attention to Jonathon. "Jon, I believe you have a spare bed in your room, do you not? Would you allow our guest to pass the night there?" Jonathon gave the newcomer another suspicious glance and then nodded. "Merci, Monsieur Jonathon! I am in your debt!" Alain left to join the other revelers. Robert stepped up to his tall friend. "Jon, you are acting as though a bug is crawling up and down your back." The leader of the band of so-called hoods folded his arms. "Do you have something against Frenchmen?" Jonathon shook his head.

"Only when their stories smell of rotten fish."

"He seems sincere enough to me."

"There's something about him, though. I ... I just can't point to what it is. I just don't think that we should be so quick to trust him, that's all." Robert patted Jonathon on the shoulder. "Well, my friend, he'll be sleeping in your room tonight, so you can keep a watchful eye on him, can't you?" And with that, Robert walked over to where Will was standing, leaning against a tree and not wanting to interfere in the conversation, and the couple joined the others in their merry-making.

"Just you sit still now, Sheriff! I can't sew this closed right if you're gonna fidget about like a cat with a sandspur up it's arse!" The doctor took careful, small stitches to close up the wound that had been left in the Sheriff's groin not so much as a day before by Robert of Locksley.

Cedric groaned. "I appreciate your coming to me on such short notice, Mr. Edwards." "Aye, it's a good thing that I got here when I did! Another few hours of exposure and your wound might have become infected and then they'd have to measure you for a wooden overcoat!" The Sheriff let out a yelp as the doctor's needle slipped and poked an undamaged portion of his thigh. He made a fist and then released it. "Edwards, is this wound going to affect the way that I ... well, you know. The way that I -"

"Make the lads howl while you're bangin' 'em?" Edwards supplied.

"Yeah, that." The doctor sighed and gave his head a shake. "Well, several of your blood vessels have been cut, primarily the ones leading to your penis. If blood can't make its way into there, well, it's looks like you'll be joustin' with a rope!"

"You can't be serious."

"I wish to God and Mary that it weren't the truth, but it is, Sheriff. That Robin Hood fellow sure got you good." The doctor raised his head from what he was doing, thinking for a moment. He then looked Cedric in the eye. "You don't suppose that he did this on purpose, do you? I mean, from the way things look, you could say that it was done by someone who might know a little about the body."

Cedric shrugged. "I thought he was going to kill me instead. But then he cut me ... there ... and then left with his little whore boy in tow."

The doctor finished sewing up the Sheriff's leg. He then pulled out a flask of wine and gently poured some of it out onto a small rag. He wiped the stitched area with the rag, and the sting of the alcohol made the Sheriff nearly kick the doctor in the face. "There. Good as ... well, better than if nothin' had been done. Don't put too much weight on this leg for at least three days. Rest, relax, and in a week I'll be back to see how the stitches are doing and repair them if need be."

"Thank you, Edwards." The doctor managed a wan smile and then left the room. Night fell and covered Sherwood Forest like a dark blanket that was interwoven with diamond dust. Jonathon walked into his room and took off his boots. He lay down on his bed and closed his eyes. His attention to his relaxation was broken by the sounds of crunching leaves just outside of his door. He looked up and saw Alain walking in. The young musician shut the door behind him. He was carrying his lute, which he gently set down beside his bed. "So, been entertaining the crowd with your singing?" Jonathon asked, looking away from his new roommate.

"Yes, somewhat." An uneasy moment passed between them. "Monsieur Jonathon, I know that you distrust me." Jon was about to say something, but Alain went on. "I sensed it the very moment that I walked into the forest earlier today. I understand perfectly that you don't trust me because I'm a stranger. And if you're not comfortable with me staying in your room, then I'll just be --."

"Stay." It was a command, not an invitation. "Merci." Jonathon let out a small grunt and sat up. He removed his shirt and stretched. Alain stared at Jon's chest and abdomen, which were covered with dark curly hair in what he saw as a perfect pattern. Jon noticed this. "What's the matter?" Alain shook his head. "Nothing. It's just that ... well, you remind me a little of my father."

"In what way?"

"Well, his chest and belly were hairy, like yours are." Jonathon didn't respond. Alain sat down on his own bed, on the side closest to Jon. "I ... I always wanted to touch his chest, to run my fingers through all that hair. But I never got a chance to." Alain leaned in closer to Jon and began to rub his hairy chest. He moved his hand all over Jon's pelted front torso. He then moved closer to Jon and kissed him, putting both of his arms around the larger man. Jonathon was a little hesitant at first, but then put his arms around Alain's small body.

They both stood and continued their kissing. Alain removed his shirt and rubbed his own hairless body against Jonathon's. The musician placed his mouth to the other man's left nipple and began to suckle it, like a baby might, only with a little more force. Jonathon smiled and ran his fingers through the hair on Alain's head.

Jonathon and Alain then removed their remaining clothing. Jon lay down on his bed, and gently pulled Alain down on top of him. The two started to kiss once more. Alain ran his hand down Jon's chest and abdomen, and when he came to the pubic area, he gently squeezed the aroused organ he found there. His thumb caressed its head, and he found a small drop of liquid there, which he wiped onto his thumb and then placed it to Jon's right nipple. Alain rubbed the nipple gently, and he heard the other man let out a sigh of pleasure. Before the musician could proceed, Jonathon took him and turned him around so that Alain's rear end was at his mouth.

Jon gently licked the orifice at first, and then plunged his tongue in all the way and probed around with all of his might. "Unngggh ..." Alain sighed. He loved this feeling that he was getting from what his host was doing. After a few more moments of absolute pleasure, Jon slid Alain down until he was impaled on Jon's ready organ. The larger man rubbed his hairy body against the Frenchman's back as he plowed deep inside him. Alain touched his own "tool" and felt ripples of pleasure coursing through him. His muscles tightened a little, which caused Jon to produce a moan of great satisfaction. Another touch to the musician's organ, and it was ready for the finale. He groaned, letting Jon know that he was near his climax, and that was all the notice that Jon received. The Frenchman spewed liquid onto his abdomen, while simultaneously, though involuntarily, squeezing Jon's hardened phallus and sending it into its final act. Warm liquid filled the space in Alain's body where no man had ever penetrated before. The feeling was so incredible that for a moment, Alain thought that he had left his body and was now in Heaven.

After the two men cleaned up, they pushed their beds together, making one larger bed, and after climbing into it, they immediately embraced. Alain smiled and buried his face in Jon's chest hair. "What was your father like?" Alain asked him. "My father ... dear God, the poor old man's been dead for a decade now. He was a caring, loving man. He loved all six of us children."


"Yes. I'm the youngest. I was the runt of the litter. I was smaller than most of the children I played with." He let out a snort of amusement. "My family and friends even called me 'Little Jon.'"

"Well, you're clearly not little anymore."

"That's certainly the truth. I'm now bigger than any of my brothers and sisters! But from time to time, they still call me 'Little Jon.' A term of endearment of sorts, I suppose."

"May I call you 'Little Jon?'"

He laughed a little. "Certainly not."

"All right. Besides," he paused an gave Jon's semi-hardened phallus a playful, light squeeze, "There's nothing _little_ about you!" Robert's band of men, and Alain, crept into Nottingham castle. Once inside, they paired off. Jon and Alain crept down to the dungeons, while the others went into specific areas of the castle to prepare for the fending off of the Sheriff's guards. Jon turned to Alain and told him to search in one direction, while he took the other. The two men split up and Jon began searching the cells of the left hallway. He was just about to look into one of the cells when he felt something hit him on the head, and the last thing he remembered before the darkness took him was the sound of breaking pottery.

Alain stalked down the hallway of the dungeons, and came to a small flight of stairs. He ascended them, and was back on the ground floor of the castle. He turned around and ran right into the Sheriff himself. Alain took a step back. Cedric folded his arms. "Well, Missy, what have you to say for yourself?" Alain looked back toward the dungeons for a moment and then looked into the Sheriff's eyes.

The Frenchman grinned, and then held up a shard of what used to be a ceramic fruit jar. "He's out cold, Cedric. Never knew what hit him!"

"And the others?"

"They're wandering the castle as we speak, and they're heavily armed." Cedric placed a hand onto Alain's shoulder.

"Then we must move quickly if we're to set the next phase of our plan to fruition. Come along." The Sheriff led the musician away from the stairs that led to the dungeon area.

(To be continued in "A Thousand Curses on Love")

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