St. George and the Dragon - 4. Chapter 4: The View

Charles spent the following day in a series of meetings with various county officials, being read to from ponderous documents and after succumbing to their soporific tones, signing his name and watching as they affixed various seals and notorizations. Wreston stood stoutly by his side, offering whispers of encouragement to persevere until the end, though Charles began to suspect he was being railroaded into more commitments than he understood.

Late in the afternoon, Charles was released to return to St. George on Wear. This time the journey was accomplished with little incident, the evening being clear and some landmarks becoming familiar on the return. He entered the pub to find a message addressed to him in florid hand:

Mr. St. George,

In order to comply with all directions of the court as exercised by you this day, I am to escort you on a tour of your newly acquired property to ensure that all measures as outlined in your late uncle’s estate have been performed by this your humble servant adequately to permit exercise of the attached invoice, at your earliest convenience, say tomorrow at 8:00 AM.

Ever your servant,

Amos Priddy

“Good lord, Mr. Priddy,” Charles exasperated.

“Indeed, Mr. Charles, Amos can somehow be both over and underwhelming at the same time.”

“I’m to accompany him to my uncle’s home early tomorrow. Damn, I’ll have to put off Robby again.”

Mayhew’s glance met those of others gathered at the bar. “Aye, that’d be asking a lot of our Robby. Still, business must come first, I always say.” Mayhew shouted into the back, “Fred, have you seen our Robby?”

“Nah,” came the reply from the kitchen.

“If he comes in later, will you tell him I’ll have to reschedule again, Mr. Mayhew? I’m heading to bed, I didn’t sleep well in Welton.” Charles retired to his room.

***

While he couldn’t swear to it, Charles had the strong impression that he heard from enveloping sleep shouting coming from the distant barroom, followed by an explosive slamming of the outer door. His curiosity gave way to sleep. His dreams passed unremembered, though heated judging from a certain wetness in the sheets.

***

Charles awakened to a soft scratching at his door. “Mr. St. George, Mr. St. George, are you awake?”

Charles mumbled a reply.

Through the door he heard, “Mr. St. George, please, we must be on our way, forgive me, but please get up.”

Charles staggered from the bed to open the door.

“My goodness, do take time to dress,” a shame-faced Amos Priddy gasped as he averted his eyes.

Only then did Charles realize that he stood in the open doorway entirely naked and somewhat engorged no doubt from his recent dreaming.

“Oh, excuse me, Mr. Priddy. May I take a few minutes to shower?”

Priddy looked over his shoulder nervously. “If you must, Mr. St. George, but do make all possible haste. I shall wait in the lounge.”

Charles wondered whatever the hurry could be in this otherwise sleepy, particularly at this near-dawn hour, village. Still he applied what speed his groggy head allowed and soon joined Priddy in the lounge.

“I took the liberty of ordering something for you to eat,” Priddy began, “Young Fred will have it here in a moment.”

“What is the hurry, Mr. Priddy?”

Priddy looked around the room, then out the window. His hand flew to his mouth, uttering involuntarily, “Oh, no, here he comes.”

Charles followed Priddy’s stare out the window and across the green to see Robby striding across, as he had a few days before. This time, he paid little attention to the children, in a hurry himself. Charles found himself caught up in the atmosphere of hurry, gulped some coffee and grabbed a piece of toast to follow Priddy’s frantic beckoning.

“Really, we must hurry, Mr. St. George.”

Priddy all but shrieked as the pub door opened at Robby’s entrance.

Priddy circled Robby pulling Charles by the hand, “Must go, must go.”

“Here now, Charlie, hold on,” Robby demanded.

“Sorry, Robby, another demand on my time. Mr. Priddy is taking me to see my uncle’s house. Meet up later?” Priddy dragged Charles out, Robby’s swearing could be heard for some distance.

“My deepest apologies, Mr. St. George, but I thought it best to begin today’s business with all dispatch.”

“Should we have taken my car, I mean my uncle’s car?”

“Oh, no, while a long way by road, we have only to cross the bridge on the other side of the green and we’ll be at our destination." He led the way across a wooden pedestrian bridge, through a copse of ancient trees to a garden gate. “As you can see, the property is very near the village yet quite isolated.” He led Charles along the banks of the river. “The river forms a kind of peninsula, guaranteeing privacy, yet with high banks that no flood has breached in living memory.” They walked along the garden path until they reach a turning, the view obscured by a high hedge. Here Priddy halted. “I wanted to take just a moment here,” he explained, “for just beyond will be revealed one of the most idyllic prospects in this or any other county.” Priddy pushed Charles forward, remaining a respectful step behind.

There, reclining nearly naked on the manicured lawn, lay Robby. Charles was dumbstruck. “Um, it is quite magnificent.”

“Magnificent?” Priddy questioned. “Quaint, historic maybe, charming certainly, but magnificent?” Priddy peered past Charles wondering what transformation might have occurred to prompt this response from Charles. “Robby!” said with supreme exasperation. “I might have known.” Priddy’s rage overcame his usual timidity. “Now see here, young man. Mr. St. George is here on business and has no time for your provocations.”

Both Charles and Robby gaped at Priddy in disbelief.

“I only wanted to get Charlie’s attention,” Robby pleaded.

“You have my attention, Robby.”

“So I see,” sniggered Robby on spying the bulge in Charles’s pant. “I’ve still got it.”

“Robby, off you go and put your clothes back on.” Priddy was adamant.

“Please, Robby, I hate to put you off again, but once I get done with this my time will be my own, I think. Mr. Priddy?”

“Yes, yes, but you’ve got to see the house.” Priddy again guided Charles around the flummoxed Robby.

“Meet me at the pub in an hour,” Charles called over his shoulder.

“Make it two hours,” Priddy corrected.

The house stood at the end of the lawn. Built of stone and brick with a slate roof, it stood one and half stories high, bristling with chimneys. Leaded glass windows in all manner of bays, bows and oriels gave a fairy book charm to the whole. A small porch welcomed them.

Priddy began his narration as they entered, “The entry hall leads to the sitting room, dining room and in the back a study. The kitchen, just redone, is beyond the dining room and has a fairly substantial pantry and lumber room. If you’ll follow me up the stairs, there are two bedrooms, each with lovely views over the garden to the river.” He gestured toward the prospect.

Charles looked out obediently, not paying attention to Priddy’s words. There, however, was a lovely view, Robby, again posed, sprawled on a garden bench, now fully naked, his buttocks on display. “Lovely, indeed.”

Priddy proudly joined Charles at the window, then exploded on realizing to what Charles had referred. “That Robby. He is incorrigible. Now, if I may have your attention for just a few minutes, more…There is a garage with a small apartment above, should you consider having help. I can make recommendations.” The tour of house and grounds continued, though Charles’s attention was drawn to every window and gap in greenery that might reveal Robby.

Priddy certainly noticed the Charles’s distraction. “Mr. St. George, I really must warn you. Robby, as fine and handsome a man as he no doubt is, is, well, he is…”

“Yes, Mr. Priddy? What is Robby?”

“He’s trouble, that’s what he is. Take my advice and steer clear of him. He’s not what he appears.”

“I think I’ve seen most of what he is at this point.”

“Very well, do as you must, but you’ll see for yourself, sooner than is good for you. I’ll leave you to your house, which I hope you’ll come to consider your home.”

“Oh, Mr. Priddy, about the easement, the right of way, what does that entail?”

“I’m glad you asked. For many in the village, the bridge and paths along the river are the route used to access homes and fields on this side of the river. The next bridge is some miles up the road. Should you, or another owner restrict access, well many would be severely inconvenienced, if not harmed. Few in the village can afford to maintain an automobile. Besides, the character of this place would be lost. Most of us hope you’ll consider joining our community, as did your uncle.”

Robby’s face peered through the hedge.

“Hummmph. I did warn you about Robby. You have a care. I’m off.” Priddy marched past Robby, now somewhat attired emerging from the shrubbery.

“All done?” asked Robby hopefully.

“I think so.” Charles replied bemusedly.

“Then let’s get started.”

“Good, you can show me around.”

“Around? Not exactly what I had in mind.”

“No?” Charles said quizzically. “Still, I think it best to get to know the area. I’ll bet you know all the best places? What is your favorite spot?”

Robby suppressed disappointment, then brightening said, “I know, the Knob?”

Charles looked wryly, “The knob?”

“I mean the Knob, it sticks out.”

“Sticks out?”

“Yes, from the big hill across from the village. You can see everything.

“By all means, let’s check out the Knob, but somehow, I don’t think that’s all you’ll be showing me.”

A smirking Robby led the way to the bridge, through the village and up the hill.

Near the crest of the hill, a rocky outcropping gave a view of the entire village and surrounding farmlands.

Charles and Robby stood side by side looking over the prospect.

“Do you like the Knob?”

“It is a beautiful sight,” Charles agreed.

“Come here, sit down,” said Robby, indicating a bench-like rock, no doubt worn by generations of lovers who came to enjoy the view – and some privacy. Charles sat next to Robby, who brought his arm around Charles’s shoulders, drawing him close.

Charles recalled the intimate closeness of his first meeting with Robby, anticipating his touch.

“Oh, Robby,” Charles sighed, feeling Robby’s lips kissing his neck. “Is all this to seduce me?”

Robby paused to reply, only to be interrupted by hearty hallooing. “Robby? Mr. St. George? Are you here?”

“Goddammsonofabitch,” Robby shouted leaping up.

“Ah, here you are. Mr. Mayhew thought he saw you two heading up this way. What a fine day it is.”

Robby stomped down the hill, his oaths echoing through the valley.

“Oh, I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean to intervene in any way. It wasn’t an awkward moment, was it? I say, I’m Stephen Priestly.” The man, a little older than Charles extended his hand in a friendly manner. Charles looked at him in a confusion of frustrated arousal and politeness. The man offered, “The vicar, don’t you know. But do call me Stephen. Somehow ‘Vicar’ seems to indicate some frightful doddering old fool, which I hope I am not.”

“Oh, of course not,” Charles replied. “I’m Charles St. George. You probably knew my Uncle Jack.”

“Oh, dear, my condolences. He was indeed a fixture here, long before my time, much admired and I dare say loved in this community.”

“Thank you, though I barely knew him. I’ve learned more about him since coming here than I had in my entire life. Stephen Priestly, you said?”

“Yes, what choice of profession had I? Still, rural vicar has its rewards – and perils from time to time.”

“Um, yes, I suppose,” Charles somewhat agreed. “Why do you suppose Robby took off?”

“I fear to speculate, though the presence of a man of the church may not have aligned with his intentions.”

“He brought me here to see the view.”

“Really? I suspect had I not come along you would have had a view of something, all right.”

“You all talk about Robby as if he’s some kind of, I don’t know, monster? He seems perfectly nice to me.”

“I suppose you’ll find out in time.”

“Why do you all keep saying that?”

“Who?”

“Everyone in this village. Mr. Mayhew, Mr. Priddy, Johnson, everyone.”

The vicar stared out into space.

“Come on, Mr. Priestly, Stephen, someone has to tell me.”

Priestly responded with a sigh. “Very well, then. Mind, I am, myself, implicated in this business, and while it is not my story to tell, you would be better told, if only for your own welfare.”

Charles heard this with trepidation.

“Robby was abandoned here in St. George on Wear as a young child. No one knew from whence he sprang, only that a boy of six or seven appeared on the village green. He was taken in by one family or another during the time his people were sought, sort of passed among the villagers. No trace of his own family was ever found. He was a pleasant child, handsome even then by all telling. His presence became a sort of fait accompli and he became the child of the entire village. The Millers, you can see their house adjacent to the old mill just down on the right, they made up one of their outbuildings into a comfortable room for him, but the entire village pitched in feeding and clothing him. They, the old villagers still call him ‘our Robby’, and always with affection.”

“That’s all well and good, Stephen, but it doesn’t explain this other aspect of Robby. People seem to fear him as much as you say they love him.”

“That’s the part you undoubtedly will find out.”

“Go on then.”

The vicar stirred uncomfortably. “Robby has a taste for men.”

“If you mean he’s gay, so what. So am I,” Charles retorted.

“It goes beyond orientation. And I’m afraid more the fault of ancient village traditions as it is Robby’s own.”

“What is the village’s fault?

“Where to begin? I only know of this through some old manuscripts kept by my predecessors and what I’ve gathered in living here for the past five years.”

“On with it, then.”

“It seems, from times long before the French invasion, before that of the Saxons for that matter, the village embodied its coming prosperity in the person of the ‘harvest prince.’ One man, selected for his virility, physical beauty and raw capacity was granted rights over all the village.”

“He ruled the village?”

“Not so much ruled as was granted privileges, sexual privileges. In short, he cannot be refused. His satisfaction is the village’s satisfaction.”

“And Robby is this ‘harvest prince’? But you said Robby is gay.”

“Indeed he is. Though he was not the first, no many of his predecessors have preferred men. That doesn’t seem to be an issue.”

“Then why this tension and fear of him?”

“There’s the nub of the issue.”

“But you said he’s cared for by all.”

“Yes, he is, truly loved by all. I suppose it’s the extent of his capacity that is the problem. He is absolutely insatiable. I’ve seen him take on seven men, one after the next, giving each a rousing roguering, and then demand more. His orgasms are beyond copious, near drowning many of his conquests.”

“Sounds like quite a catch to me.”

“There’s more. It’s his size.”

“He does seem very fit.”

“Well he does get plenty of exercise. That’s not the point. It’s his size.”

“You mean?”

“Yes, the man is enormous.”

“You’ve seen him?”

“More than that. I’ve accommodated him on more than one occasion, as has every man of age in the village.”

“That ruckus I heard in the pub the first night I was here.”

“Yes, while I missed that night, I heard about it from nearly everyone. It seems you’re apparent lack of interest raised some self-doubt in Robby which he sought to offset with even more than his usual vigor.”

“Oh, that explains Mr. Mayhew’s comments the next day.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. Now don’t get me wrong, Robby is generally a very attentive lover, made more so, I might add, after some instruction by your own uncle. Mr. Jack was able to teach Robby some finesse in handling the ‘dragon’.”

“The ‘dragon’?”

“Oh, yes, he and his organ share that sobriquet. Fitting in so many ways, don’t you think?”

“Hmmm, perhaps I will have to find out.”

“Be warned, since you’ve arrived, Robby has been seen to have changed.”

“Changed? How so?”

“I’m not sure. From what I’ve heard, he’s been somewhat humbled.”

“He never seems humble to me.”

“No, I suppose not to you. After you’d gone to Welton – yes, we all know each other’s business here in the village – take that as a warning, too – after you’d gone to Welton, rather than seeking satisfaction in his usual excessive way, Robby slinked off to his room alone. On a normal day, he takes on four or five of us, but since that moment, he’s had no known interaction. Frankly, we’re both concerned and relieved.”

“Are you saying it has something to do with me being here?”

“I’m saying that in my opinion, and that of most of the village, Robby is smitten. Now, I suppose his change of behavior could be attributed to anger at being refused by you.”

“I’ve never refused him. We never got that far. Something seemed to come up whenever we met.”

“For Robby, that alone would be a new experience. Nothing has ever had precedence over his desires. But I think there’s more. I think there’s an additional aspect to his anger and frustration. I think Robby is experiencing a new kind of desire, a romantic desire, for the first time.”

“You mean all this fucking, excuse me, all this sex and he’s never been emotionally involved with anyone?”

“There have been a times when he has taken up with someone for a few days, but it has never lasted long. I imagine they wore out fairly quickly. No this time it’s different. I saw him with you, just now. He seemed a different person, not demanding satisfaction and suddenly shy on being discovered.”

“What do you think I should do?”

“Selfishly, I would encourage you to take him in hand, so to speak. If you get involved, you’ll be taking him in more than your hand.” The vicar smirked. “But there’s more at stake. It’s a few weeks until the next harvest festival. You see, Robby has been the uncontested prince since coming of age. If his mastery is questioned, the prosperity of the village is in danger.”

“You don’t believe that, do you vicar?”

“I see you use my title. I don’t believe it, per se, but I do fear for the spirit of this place. The traditions precede the church by a thousand years and seem to arise from the very earth. I believe in many paths to truth, the church’s teaching as only one.”

“Tell me about this festival.”

“In many ways, it’s a routine harvest festival with farm produce and animals proudly displayed. Thanks are given for the bounty of the harvest. The culmination occurs on the night of the harvest moon. The people gather in the clearing a short distance from your uncle’s, your house. There they select the man who will be harvest prince. In recent times, he then selects three others to be his ‘court’. A secret ceremony then ensues.”

“A secret ceremony? Of which you know all…”

“As a matter of fact, I have been selected to serve in the prince’s court a few times.”

“Doesn’t that create some friction with the Bishop?”

“Not the kind of friction he’d have if he could. No, as long as I give him all the dirty details, he’s happy that one of his country clerics is popular with his congregation,” Stephen joked.

“So, not going to divulge the secret ceremony?”

“No, it’s secret.”

“Then, what happens?”

“Then the prince and his court rampage through the village for several days taking their pleasure where they will, bestowing honor on their favorites in the eyes of the other villagers.”

“Well that sounds like fun.”

“It is rather, though I limit my own participation as much as possible. It is difficult preaching a sermon on moderation or chastity to a congregation one has just used for personal pleasure. Seems a tad hypocritical to even this jaundiced vicar.”

“So what are you telling me to do?”

“I shall have to pray upon that, I’m afraid. Your own welfare is of concern, Robby is very demanding.”

“And you’d miss him, wouldn’t you?”

“There is that. Once you’ve gotten used to him, well as used to him as one can get, he is quite the lover. But I’m more concerned for the village tradition. There are only a few weeks to get this sorted out before the harvest festival. Are you inclined to consider a relationship with him?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued. I’ve been on my own far too long.”

“You might be saying ‘far too long’ about other things if you go forward with him.” A funny vicar.

“I have an opportunity to make my life over. It’s a gift from my uncle. I’d hate to squander that for quick sex.”

“Oh, it won’t be quick, though it will likely be frequent.”

“And I’ve come to understand my uncle’s affection for the village, though I am also intrigued about his education of Robby. I don’t want to just be another stop on Robby’s ‘rampage’ through the village. I need more than that.”

“There’ll be all you can handle.”

“More one liners?”

“Being a country parson does not preclude a sense of humor, a saucy sense of humor.”

“I suppose not. This place makes me want to settle down, to share a life with someone.”

“I understand, and it’s admirable to want that and in line with the church’s wish for all couples, I might add. Then your way is clear. Go forth and find romance, seek in him your desire and if you align, then so be it. Another will arise, ahem, to do right by the village. Not to change the subject, but will you join me for luncheon. I had intended to invite you when you settled in, but it seems I’ve driven Robby away. We’ll ask if he’s been seen in the village so you can track him down.”

Following all this surprising revelation, Charles accompanied the vicar to the vicarage for a meal of hearty soup and a few too many beers.