The Knight's Tale - 12. Chapter 12

As he drove his Lotus 7 two-seater up the M1 toward the Westermere estate, Henry’s thoughts were muddled.

Bijan is safe and being tutored on his new identity and how to get along in the UK. He’ll be joining me out here tomorrow or the day after.

Hassan and Asenath are on their way here, having neatly ducked Iranian security with MI6’s help after the conference in Istanbul. They will also stay at Westermere until they arrange their new accommodations. I suppose they will receive new identities, too.

Weems is waiting for me at the manor, and Mother has moved into the Dower House on the estate — a fate she always referred to as “banishment.”

And Winnie is... well, shit, I don’t know where the fuck Winnie is, but I hope he’ll make contact soon.

Leaving the busy M1 at Bricket Wood, His Lordship the 9th Earl of Westermere followed the familiar roadways through St Alban’s and into the beautiful Hertfordshire countryside, ultimately turning up the mile-long drive onto what would be henceforth his estate.

Westermere was built by the first earl in the early 19th-century, never having been a castle nor a monastery.

Part of the mansion’s beauty was that it was all constructed at once, rather than suffering centuries of inappropriate add-ons and strange changes of level. All the hallways ran straight and true from the east wing to the west.

Passing the fields and woods, Henry began to experience a growing sense of dread. A heavy burden had fallen upon him, unexpectedly terminating his 32 years of playing the rich young prat.

Now, like it or not, he was a peer of the realm, a responsibility that severely limited his options. Some day, he would don an ermine robe and earl’s coronet and observe the coronation of the monarch in Westminster Abbey.

The three days he had spent at Vauxhall were painful. They began with the debriefing: what worked and what went wrong with the mission. MI6 always collected such information for the benefit of the next agent who might have a similar assignment. Henry came out well and received a commendation from the Director for his success in rescuing the Tohjanis.

He was instructed to visit his department head next, where the man welcomed him, offered tea, and bluntly informed him that his career in MI6 was terminated. “To have a peer of the realm gallivanting around the world, taking the risks you’ve been accustomed to, Henry — well, it just isn’t done.”

He had resisted, negotiated, promised all sort of things, but in the end the outcome was the same. “Thank you and Godspeed in your new life, Your Lordship.”

“Goddammit, I’m only 32!” He bitterly cursed aloud as he passed through the tall gates marking the circular drive leading to the residences.

He first stopped at the Dower House, so designated because the widow of a nobleman is called a Dowager, and it was customary for her to move out of the family residence, so as not to wield undue influence over the next holder of the title.

Mother always hated this place and feared being relegated to living here. I do hope she’s adjusting.

As he drove up, the door was opened by Willett, the butler of the Westermere estate.

“Good morning, Your Lordship.”

“Willett, it’s a bit of a surprise to see here. Am I to assume Mother has stolen you from me?”

The man solemnly bowed his head and remained silent.

“I must have some comforts in this dreary situation.” Lady Elizabeth emerged from the doorway. “Willett has been with me since the day I arrived here as a bride, and I cannot bear to be without him.”

“Quite right, Mother. I would never deprive you of his services.”

And besides, I intend to promote Weems to butler as soon as I see him.

They went inside and Willett served tea.

As the Dowager Countess of Westermere poured, she spoke kindly to her son. “I know I have always been hard on you with regard to your conduct as the future ninth earl...”

“That’s something of an understatement, Mother.”

She grimaced. “Well, you must know, I always acted only in what I believed to be your best interests. And now I shall remain silent henceforth. What you make of your self and of Westermere is entirely in your hands, and I wish you only the greatest of success.”

Henry softened. “Thank you, Mother. And, truly, I am grateful for all you have tried to do for me. Although I often resisted...”

“Often?”

“...generally resisted, deep down I knew you were trying to help me, and I do appreciate your effort.”

“Well, enough of that. I am the Dowager now, and you are the Earl. If ever I can be of any use to you, don’t hesitate to ask.” She frowned.

“Thank you, Mother. Rest assured I shall.” He leaned across the coffee table and kissed her on the forehead.

To banish the gloom that had descended upon them, they chatted about the weather, the estate, and the arrangements for the eighth earl’s funeral.

When the conversation ebbed, the new earl smiled, “Thank you for this, Mother. I’m terribly glad the first stop in my new life was here with you. You are always welcome in the manor, and if there is anything you need, you have only to ask.”

“Your father left me well cared for, but I appreciate your generous offer, Henry. Now, you must take possession of your domain. I’m sure they are eagerly awaiting your arrival.”

As Henry motored up to the principal entrance, the entire personnel of the Westermere estate were waiting in two lines leading up to the door. The household staff stood to the left of a wide V, and the externs lined up to the right.

Weems was first in line. Next were the footmen, maids, cooks, and drivers. The facing rank was led by the head groundskeeper, followed by the various gardeners, tenant farmers, workmen, and laborers. This brought home once again his burden of responsibility.

Christ! All these people rely on me for their livelihoods and homes. If I fuck up, they’re in deep shit.

As he got out of his car, Weems stepped forward, “Welcome home, Your Lordship. And our deepest condolences on your loss. Your father was a great man and much loved by all the staff.”

My father spent as little time as possible in this fucking relic of a house. He preferred living in London with his mistress.

“Thank you, Weems. It is good to be home.”

Henry smiled at each employee and accepted the bowed heads as he made his way into the building.

I feel as though I’m running the fucking gauntlet here. Practically every damn one of them has known me since I was a child, and they are expecting me to fuck up massively — except Weems, of course. I’ll really be relying on him to get me through this bullshit. And it will be proper fun to be back in bed with him.

A footman brought Henry’s bags in. There wasn’t much, as he had left with the fake luggage created by MI6 to fool the IRGC — only a suitcase and briefcase, plus a couple of boxes of memorabilia from his locker at Vauxhall.

Not much to show for over ten fucking years of service to Queen and country!

Weems led the way up the central staircase, turning to the right at the top.

Henry froze. The rooms that had been his since he graduated from the Nursery were in the west wing of the mansion, to the left. The quarters in the east wing had always belonged to his parents.

“Erm, Weems?”

“My Lord?” He turned to look at his master.

“I’m not sure...”

Weems spoke to the footman following them. “Just leave them here. I’ll take care of them.”

When the servant bowed and disappeared, Weems stepped closer to Henry and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I can imagine what you’re thinking, Henry. You’ve been through a huge life-change.”

“No shit.”

“So you are now in a different position, a new role, and this always entails changes, sometimes massive ones. No matter how hard it is, or how awkward it may seem at this moment, you are the Lord of the Manor now, and the earl sleeps in the earl’s rooms.”

Henry thought a while, saying nothing. Then he grinned up at Weems. “Are you still going to join me in bed?”

Weems smiled back, “As often as milord requires my company.”

The earl nodded. “By the way, you are no longer my footman.”

Weems raised his eyebrows inquisitively.

“You are now butler, and fucking head of my household!”

With a deep nod of his head, the former footman said, “It is my pleasure to serve Your Lordship.”

Henry replied sotto voce, “And it is my pleasure to pleasure you.” They both laughed in anticipation.

Seated in the window of his drawing room, Henry gazed out at the vast lawn in front of the mansion.

Such a lot to fuss about. Still, each of my predecessors likely thought the same.

Turning to look into the spacious room, he could see portraits of the previous eight earls mounted along three walls.

The first earl had been Georg, Landgraf von Westliches Meer, baron of a minor German principality wiped off the map in 1806 when the Holy Roman Empire collapsed.

Seeking refuge with his distant cousin in England, King George III, he was titled Earl of Westermere and given lands in Hertfordshire, north of London. He restyled his name to the English George and took the surname Sandringham, in honor of the Norfolk village where he first set foot on British soil.

Earls II through VI were known to Henry only through their portraits and a brief smattering of family history he remembered from his childhood. None of them was particularly distinguished, and all barely managed to keep the estate solvent.

Henry did recall the fact that the fifth earl, Lord William Henry Sandringham, had the misfortune of owning Westermere from 1904 until 1944 — 40 years which included both World Wars. Those were hard times for England, and the family domain had been expropriated by the government for several years during each war.

It was Henry’s grandfather, the seventh earl, Lord Phillip Edward Charles Sandringham, who wisely invested in the burgeoning Information Technology industry in the late 1970s and early 1980s. Born in 1929 amidst the Great Depression, Lord Phillip became earl in 1972 and amassed hundreds of millions of pounds by the time of his death at the age of 56.

Henry’s father, Lord Charles Edward Rupert Sandringham, took over in 1985 and entrusted management of the family fortune to an investment firm in Bermuda, and it had grown steadily in the years since.

In actuality, the manor and the lands around it, even the working farms, contributed a mere fraction of the Westermere family’s vast wealth.

As a result, it fell to Henry to do very little actual work of any kind. The accountants and bankers attended to the money, the groundskeepers and tenant farmers preserved the land, and the household staff, now under butler Edward Weems, took care of everything indoors.

And “everything” includes me. Henry smiled

“What the fuck?” Henry complained, “You’re acting like I’m some China doll that will break if you’re too rough. We’ve done this a thousand times. Give it to me, dammit, you’re boring me to tears!”

“Sorry, Harry. I guess I am holding back a bit. I’ve never fucked an earl before.”

“Well, I’ve never been fucked by a butler before, and so far, I have to say this is bloody disappointing.”

Weems quickened and deepened his thrusts.

Henry began to groan softly at each vigorous penetration. “That’s more like it.”

Earlier, it had gone midnight, and Henry began to wonder whether his lover was coming to his room.

In truth, the newly-appointed head of household had discovered that the arrangements were all askew. As footman, he had been freely in and out of Henry’s rooms day and night, so it was easy to make time for anything they wanted to do.

But the butler was on duty all over the manor. At any moment, a footman, or a maid, or a cook, or a gardener needed some information or permission or wanted to raise some issue with the head of the household. Poor Ned hadn’t a minute to himself all day long.

Which is why he quietly climbed the back stairs late at night and tapped lightly on the servant’s door to Henry’s chamber.

“Come in, please.”

When Weems opened the door, Henry was standing right there, starkers and hard as a rock.

“I was just about to wank off, having given up all hope of seeing you tonight.”

“Well, if you want to, I don’t mind watching.”

“Fuck that. Get naked and join me in bed, and that’s a bloody damned order!”

“Yes, My Lord.”

The two weeks had passed differently for both of them, and their reacquaintance was tentative at first. True, they were still the same two men who had been erstwhile lovers for nearly a decade. But their stations in life had altered drastically in only two weeks, and neither was still in the employ of MI6.

“I’m sorry you lost your job, too,” Henry said as they lay smoking after the first round of sex.

“Oh, I knew it was coming. I think the only reason they kept me on for so long was because I made a proper handler for you. It was the perfect cover.”

“I wonder if we could throw in together and open some sort of security or private investigation firm, just to keep our hand in it.”

“I don’t need to remind you of all the documents we signed when we were mustered out. There is no possibility of anything even remotely related to what we’ve been doing for MI6.”

“I can dream, can’t I?”

“You are the only thing I’ve been dreaming about for a fortnight.”

With a wink and a smile, Weems rolled over and presented his arse to his master, who eagerly began to tongue it.

The clock struck two in the morning as Ned dressed and left Henry’s chambers by the servants’ back stairs.

The butler’s small suite, located in a different part of the building from all the other servants, allowed him to slip in without anyone hearing or wondering where he’d been until the late hour.

Just after breakfast the next day, a car came up the drive. Meeting it at the doorway, Weems smiled broadly.

“If I’m not mistaken, sir, you would be Winnie. And this must be Master Bijan.”

Winnie nodded, “And you have to be Ned Weems, the footman and handler par excellence.”

“I don’t know about that, sir, but I’ve been elevated to butler now.”

“Congratulations! Well-deserved, I’m sure.”

Bijan/Bishoy asked, “Is Harry, erm, Lord Henry here?”

“Yes, sir, he is, and he is eagerly awaiting your arrival.” Turning to Winnie, he remarked, “And your arrival will be a most pleasant surprise for him.”

The butler showed the two visitors to the morning room. Henry jumped to his feet and quickly embraced Winnie. Ned turned his head and looked out the window, which Bijan noticed.

Henry next held out his arms to the handsome young man, and the two hugged, though not as heartily as Henry had done with Winnie.

Weems thought to himself, There are four gay men in this room, and there is definitely a hierarchy of affections among us.

“So, how did your debriefing go, Bijan? Are you proper British yet?”

“Oh, I doubt I’ll ever be so, but I think I can hold my own as an Egyptian student at Oxford. And by the way, I am Bishoy Soliman from now on.”

“Well, that might take some getting used to, but I understand the necessity.”

Weems excused himself to summon a footman, who carried Winnie and Bishoy’s bags to their rooms.

Henry indicated they should all step outside to the patio. Seated in a shaded area, the three smoked and chatted.

“I heard through the grapevine that you’re out of the service, too,” Henry said to Winnie. “I suppose they concluded we had become a tad too close to be effective.”

“I didn’t know that. What bullshit! You two are top of your game.” Bishoy exclaimed.

Winnie snickered. “In my case, I was given the excuse that my face was captured on security cameras in Iran, Azerbaijan, Moscow, and Istanbul, which to MI6 means I would be spotted anywhere in the world I might be sent.” To the confused looks on the faces of Henry and Bishoy, he confessed, "Yes, I was on those flights with you, in disguise."

"You never!" Henry was incredulous.

Winnie just smiled and winked.

“And I was also unofficially found guilty of becoming ‘too close’ to a fellow officer. Apparently, there was a hidden camera in that safe house in Bābul Sar. Bloody cheeky of them to spy on their own goddamn spies.”

“Well, I guess we are both well and truly fucked!” Henry joked with a laugh.

“And not for the last time, I hope.” Winnie winked.

Bishoy protested, “Wait a damn minute. Don’t leave me out of this patter. Henry, you owe me a sound shagging, and Winnie, you are more than welcome to watch or join in.”

The two older men exchanged naughty looks.

“As delightful as your offer is, we’ll need to work on the logistics. I’m now in a position where gossip ceases to be amusing and could quickly become quite damaging. Anything we might do needs to be carefully orchestrated, ideally somewhere other than in this house.” Henry cautioned.

“Oh, I think I can arrange that,” Winnie said mischievously.