Of Pride and Power - 13. Chapter 13: “Get others to do the work for you, but always take the credit.”

In the week that followed the battle, the remaining troops of William Parr withdrew back to Northampton along a circuitous route heading northwest before turning south. I had Cordelia and the three companies of medics follow them, along with all the rescued boys from Robsart estate. The mortar companies provided daily barrages on Mousehold Heath and the city of Norwich’s gates, to give the illusion that we were planning a renewed assault on either of their strongpoints as we withdrew. I told them to conserve their munitions as much as possible and never stay in any location for more than 5 shells while creating this feint. Keeping Robert Kett’s forces off-balance and uncertain about their defensive position was necessary. Francis was unable to analyze the memories of Father Archibald, so we guessed that he must have been from the future, like me. He devised a method to transport all the cannons in their possession by dismantling and reassembling them on the field of battle with perfect accuracy. However, his knowledge did not appear to be as diverse as my own based on the experiences of the dead rebels since he had no tactical expertise beyond artillery. Without the advice of the dead Father Archibald and the loss of his cannons, Robert Kett began withdrawing from Mousehold Heath to form defenses along the main road coming from London. With that objective completed, my mortar companies began to slowly withdraw.

I spent my nights with Jack, who had regained a sense of reality after several days of treatment from Cordelia at the manor of William Parr, more than two weeks after his rescue.

When he woke facing me that morning, he caressed my face and spoke, “My Lord Eli, is it you?”

Only Francis was in the room with us. Francis was covering me with his body, as I did the same with Jack. Francis had been doing this ever since the close call with the reinforcement at Heath Woods. When he had learned about the death of William Parr’s knight the previous evening, he had rushed the two mortar companies under his command. The mortar team was rushing to our location double-time and had just set up firing positions when they breached two of our trench lines. I understood why he needed to do this, it was like why I needed to be around Jack, though his need came from a fear of losing me. My need came from my guilt for Jack’s abuse and my inability to accept what I knew was true in my heart.

In my past life, I’ve wondered what being sandwiched between two guys would be like. Some Boys’ Love manga had poly lovers with the effeminate boy acting as the filling for erotic scenarios. These stories made the idea of sleeping with two boys interesting and sometimes very complicated. The reality was sweatier than I imagined, but it was quite pleasant to know everyone I cared about was near me.

Circling his nipples with my free hand, while sucking at the base of his ear like I used to do, I answered Jack seductively, “Don’t worry Jack, you’re safe.”

He answered with a moan of pleasure as I knew he would. Francis began to stir behind me, but I gave him no commands to join us. This was something between Jack and me. While I did not object to Francis watching or indirectly finding pleasure, I had to prioritize Jack first after denying him for so long. It was indulgent and I would warn anyone with more than one lover to not do the same. Luckily, Francis is a sub and obliges my needs. Francis understood seeing Jack happy pleased me, my pleasure was Francis’ desire.

I slid down his body, licking and sucking bruised flesh until I reached his hardening dick. I gave it a quick kiss, then used my tongue to massage his ball sac. Simultaneously, my hands reached behind him, my fingers glided down his spine until they reached his anal entrance. Jack had several erogenous zones that I knew could cause him to writhe and thrash with pleasure, including his lower back and the entrance to his asshole. In addition to just satisfying pleasure, I wanted him to enjoy a game that neither of us had for years at this point.

As he squirmed at the sensations, I paused to ask him a question that I had asked many times before, “What is my name?”

He answered panting, “Eli…Lord Eli.”

I shook my head, repeated my actions, then asked again, “What is my real name?”

After several of these exchanges, his dick was purple with precum leaking like a faucet, he answered in a moan, “In my dream…Eric…you’re Eric.”

I laughed and continued to edge him with our game. He had answered correctly if we were addressing each other in normal circumstances, but we had different names in our game. So, I asked my question again after his pleading and moans were close to screams.

This time he answered with a desperate moan, “Oliver!”

Grinning at the right answer, I asked him the follow-up question, “What is your name?”

He did not hesitate this time as he moaned out the correct answer, “Oliver…. Please take me!”

My fingers entered his asshole to massage his prostate and my mouth engulfed the head of his dick. It only took a few seconds before he cried with the surge of orgasm. We had played this sex game with each other ever since he read Call Me By Your Name. We’d reverse the roles too, I’d be playing the innocent queer virgin Elio and Jack was the bisexual lothario Oliver, who could play my body like a musical instrument. Bottoming for us isn’t an identity, it was more a role we enjoyed at various times, but we have to offer it to our partner as it’s something very special. Roleplaying sex games are a secret language between lovers, it’s a form of communication that transmits identity information.

After he shot his load, I slid my body back up to give him an open mouth kiss. He was tentative at first, but then we shared his semen. I closed my eyes and imagined that we were underneath the covers of our sleeping bags in the orange grove. I rubbed my hard small dick against his body, while his hands found my welcoming ass. I was tight from years of neglect, but Jack knew how to enter me. However, he didn’t just use his fingers. Jack slid between my thighs and began to penetrate me with his tongue, causing me to squirm.

I shot my load against my stomach after just a few moments of his attention.

For a while, neither of us did anything with our eyes closed, except pant. At some point, I felt wetness on my thigh. I opened my eyes to see him crying. The sight of him crying made me pull him up to face me. Jack had never cried in the past when we had sex, so this was something unexpected that burst the dreamlike atmosphere.

Turning back to Francis, I ordered him to fetch us some warm water and fabric for washing our sexual residue. Francis put on his black clothing and left the guest room.

With just the two of us there, I asked, “Why are you crying, Jack?”

He stared at me with a bewildered expression, “Why did you defile me, Lord Eli? How can you know my dreams? You can’t be the boy in them, and my father will never allow a sod to be his son. I’m going to be condemned to hell, because of what we just did.”

I got in closer, while he tried to shove me away. However, he was only half-heartedly doing it as he was far stronger than Jack and could probably have beaten me up if he wanted to stop me from cuddling him. Jack and I always cuddled after sex, it gave us comfort after the pleasure of knowing that we’d always be there to offer this to each other.

Against his ear, I whispered, “I am that boy. Your dreams were real in a different world. I love you. Your father will be the one to go to hell for what he did to you. We belong together.”

Sweat poured over his body, he shook all over, then responded pleadingly, “Please do not speak anymore, those were bad dreams filled with sadness, regrets, and monsters. You died in them and left me alone to bear everything.”

Tears flowed down my face, imagining how life must have been for him after the truck had killed me. I opened my mind like I did for John Knox, but instead of negative emotions and memories, I poured all my love and happiest memories with my best friend, my partner, and my soulmate Jack into them. I wanted him to know that I loved him and still love him. I wanted him to know that he was not alone anymore, I was with him again.

I passed out again and it was late afternoon when I awoke with Jack by my side. We were still naked, but the traces of semen and sweat were gone. Francis was nowhere to be seen, but I knew it was his handy work.

As I stirred to awareness, I kissed Jack on his forehead, his nose, and lips, then lovingly whispered, “I hope you're awake now,”

In response, he took hold of me and hugged me tightly, and then said, “Don’t ever leave me, again.”

I nodded, inadvertently activating my innate ability, “If we go by history, you’re supposed to die before me this time around….”

I wanted to slap myself for blurting that information about his mortality. He withdrew from me in a startled fashion.

His body stiffened and he mumbled, “I. I am going to die before you, Eli. What do you know?”

I frowned wondering if my memory transfer ability didn’t work, I tentatively offered, “You could call me Eric again, you know.”

He answered in a point-of-fact manner, “You are not Eric, nor am I Jack anymore. As someone once said to me, we are what we are. Now don’t change the subject.”

His snark was coming back, which earned him another kiss from me as I was trying to avoid telling him about the fifteen-year death gap between us in history, “So, Sir Robert Dudley, if we are going to share information. Can you tell me why all of this happened?”

He was silent, then spoke plaintively, “I don’t remember anything from my old life after the day you died, except nightmares. I think you did a factory reset on my memories with whatever magic spell you put on me. I just remembered part of our lives from there and everything in my life now.”

The memory ability was not something I should have used on Jack without consideration, but I wanted him to know how I felt and relieve him of any lingering doubt about his sanity or place in my heart. Jack went through not just his original life without me, but he spent another lifetime as Merlin, setting up Camelot and the fair folk for my eventual arrival in this world. Who knew how many lives he had to live before he came to be with me again? At that point, I didn’t want to prod my dedicated boyfriend for information about the Catholic Church’s background leaders with future technology or other things that triggered our journey into the past.

I sighed in resignation, “Well, I guess I have to fill you in on what I know then about the present and hope maybe your subconscious can fill in the gaps.”

He wrapped me closer, laying a kiss on my neck, then asked disarmingly, “You will, starting with how long I am supposed to live?”

“You are not getting over that?”

He punched me in the shoulder playfully, “Hell, no!”

I laughed and pointed out, “We’re not the real Elizabeth and Robert Dudley, you know.”

“Reality is before us and behind us. I don’t remember a lot of stuff, but I know history does rhyme. Now, tell me what you know about my potential death,” he ordered in a commanding tone that he used whenever we hid each other’s favorite books or manga. Usually, it was meant as foreplay.

There wasn’t much to tell him, Robert Dudley died a month after the Spanish Armada was repulsed in the original timeline. Queen Elizabeth I would cherish the final letter he gave her for the next fifteen years until she died. I told him in no uncertain terms, he would not die like that or I be forced to live with that regret for the rest of my life. History doesn’t need to repeat or rhyme exactly, I pointed to everyone I saved in Devonshire and the army of William Parr.

Jack laughed and pointed to the fact, “You changed the future for some, but look at the big picture. Just as many people died between the original history and this alternate timeline. What does that tell you?”

Glaring at Jack’s implication and challenge, I replied, “I do not want to believe there’s such a thing as equivalent exchange. Fullmetal Alchemist’s rules can’t apply to something like the balance of life and death. People just live and die, there’s no reason behind it. It’s all just consequences of prior action.”

Robert smirked at my indignation, “Spoken like a realist. Should people call you King Souma?”, then he kissed my shoulder.

I tussled his unruly hair, “Well, you did start a pseudo-belief system about me. The last shall be the first, which was supposed to be the Omega will rule. Someone was being very literal.”

Robert stared down at my vagina, “I think that version of me wanted to give you something that you never had, a sense of worth and completeness as who you are and not what others want you to be. Omega was the modern world’s truest expression of hermaphrodism, combining the best of both genders to be a carrier, giver, and protector of life. If heterosexual female writers put more effort and considered what they were writing about, they’d realize the hope it gives to intersex people like you.”

We continued bantering back and forth like we used to, discussing the rules of reality, existential concepts, and manga. Despite our location and places in history, we were just two seventeen-year-old lovers, who knew each other’s interests and views on life. Jack believes in universal constants with ideals that things can get better if we put enough effort into it. In love and devotion, we were equals, but in effort, I knew he did far more than me.

We spent the next few days getting reacquainted, both physically and emotionally. Francis joined us as a third, which was awkward at first for Robert and me since we never had another guy in bed with us before despite a few close make-out sessions with a few emo boys that went nowhere. However, we got over the awkwardness when Francis was about to leave us alone one evening.

Robert made the first move to break our impasse, “Francis, I get that this is weird for you, me, and Eli. Even in our version of the future, people rarely share our kind of relationship. Eli has told me that you have an ability that lets you experience and receive knowledge from people who have died, am I correct? Were there any nobles like us?”

Francis nodded at Robert’s words, “Many noble men and some noble women have mistresses and male lovers, who serve them, but they are kept secret from their wives and husbands. Among ancient philosophers and writers like Socrates and Plato, there was a practice for older men to have a younger submissive male lover and their wives acknowledged such a relationship, it was considered inappropriate to maintain pass sixteen years of age as their point of adulthood,” he paused, glanced at me, and asked with sadness a question I knew was coming, “Lord Eli do you wish to dismiss me from your bed chamber, now that you have Sir Robert?”

I shook my head emphatically, “No, I do not Francis. You are a great lover; even though, you can never be a true partner to me like Robert. I intend to keep this relationship going between the three of us,” I reached over to Francis and gave him a big kiss, “Whatever we do now and in the future should be honest and open between all three of us.”

Robert shook his head in agreement with me and joked, “I am not keen on being your Isekai wife, Eli, but Francis is a nice guy, and I can tell he takes great care of you. He also did me a kindness the other day, when we were knocked out by cleaning me up, too. Eli knows how much I appreciate aftercare,” he winked at me with mischief.

I rolled my eyes at Robert’s remark and the experience he was referencing of Jack and my pubic hairs being torn from our bodies due to the lack of after-care. I remembered how we both licked off each other after that mistake to prevent the gooey mess from congealing. Keeping your partner clean if you intend to cuddle with them for a prolonged period is extremely important information that no one ever talks about in romance books. Of course, I doubt most female and gay male writers ever had the long lovemaking and cuddle sessions Jack and I shared.

Wanting to change the subject so Francis wouldn’t feel any more awkward, I attempted to imitate a pout at Robert, “I am not trying to start a harem, things just happened with how history works. Besides, if this were an Isekai, you’re like my best wife.”

He laughed at my words, “Listen to you objectifying me like a trophy, what happened to my sweet lover, who fought sexist notions and misogynistic concepts.”

I punched him in the shoulder playfully, then kissed him, “You are everything to me, never forget that even if we are in a world where I will end up with as many lovers as Hiroko from Farming Life. You know gender stereotypes don’t mean anything to me, I love those who choose to love me.”

Robert nuzzled my nape and mused, “Sartre said that “I am my choices", but loving you wasn’t a choice for me to make or deny.”

Francis was confused by our conversation that mixed so many topics and ideas well beyond 16th-century understanding, “I do not know what you speak of my lords, can you teach me these concepts, so I may serve you both better? I fear I am too inadequate to join you both.”

From his standpoint, what we discussed was gibberish and even if both of us tried to describe the concepts, it would still be impossible to fathom. Five hundred years of progress led to the creation of the culture that Robert and I came from. We were like time orphans. How could we express to Francis that he doesn’t need to converse with us with our knowledge or cultural insights? How can I make him see he was someone we both wanted in this relationship? Despite my vast well of knowledge, it was Robert, who came upon the idea of how to show Francis he mattered.

An evil grin came over Robert’s face upon hearing Francis’ words, which I knew from my experience with Jack, meant he had planned something.

Robert asked me, “Do you remember Mary Renault’s Persian Boy? Remember what scene you and I talked about doing if we ever had a third, who was a sub.”

As the dawn of recognition came to me, my erection grew stiff with anticipation. When it came to planning for roleplays, Jack had an enormous range of ideas based on the books he read. He was insanely creative and resourceful.

I smiled over at Francis, not sure if this would work as Mary Renault’s book was historical fiction based on certain historical facts. Francis’ ability could grant him insights into some experiences, but his focus was on the scholars and academics, smart guys with far less interest in diverse sexual exploration. However, I reasoned that the book must have had some areas of truth, especially with how complex the relationship between Alexander and Hephaestion was. Alexander the Great in contrast was a worldly leader, conqueror, and polyamory was second nature to his thought process. Hephaestion was his top general, boyhood friend, lover, and partner, kind of like Robert. The third in their bed would need to be someone able to care for Alexander’s needs without raising Hephaestion's jealousy, along with respect for Hephaestion as well.

I inhaled a deep breath and asked Francis, “Can you try to access an ancient person named Bagoas? He was a young Persian eunuch lover of Alexander the Great alongside Hephaestion. The only factual recording of him in our history was Alexander kissing him during his journey to India through the desert of Persia. I do not want you to castrate yourself or stop pleasing me in the ways I showed you. I just thought his experiences could help you understand what I want for our relationship.”

Francis closed his eyes and focused on my description; he was motionless like he was meditating. He was like that for over an hour. I could see moments of panic, moments of joy, moments of pleasure, and moments of pain in his facial expressions. At some point, Francis stopped and stared at Robert, then at me without saying a word.

Robert glanced over at me, “I think we broke him. He’s got the look of a “blue-screen” computer.”

Just as I was about to respond to Robert, Francis pulled the covers from Robert, revealing his bruised and healing body. Francis’ head went down like a missile on Robert’s dick. Francis understood what it meant to be part of a three-person relationship through those memories, we shared our passion after that moment. I wanted to give my two loves all of me, but I knew that there were real issues at hand if I did that.

Of course, the one exception was my unique physical attributes during our lovemaking. Bagoas lacked a dick, so he could never pleasure Alexander the way that Hephaestion could. For me, I had a vagina that could not be used at all due to real-world issues it would create for me if I got pregnant as the world’s first omega.

I told Francis and Robert that my vagina was off limits for exploration until I could gain the throne. I don’t want an oops-baby while Mary or Edward were rulers. With medieval healthcare lacking the morning-after pill and abortion being out of the question, I had very few parental planning options. Even if I was near the Cadbury Hill facility, I would feel awful to ask Cordelia with her medical knowledge, or Puck with his herbology knowledge, for help getting rid of a miracle child in the eyes of the fair folk.

Our days of peaceful rest ended when John Dudley came to Northampton. It was 10 days after the Battle at Heath Woods and 3 days since the last of my mortar companies had left the area around Norwich. The Royal Army of 14,000 men had taken the position of Mousehold Heath abandoned by Robert Kett’s rebels, giving John Dudley a commanding view over the entire area as I intended.

Robert and I greeted John Dudley, who grimaced at the sight of his son with me. He did his best to hide his contempt for me during the meeting with William Parr, who reported the events at the battle of Heath Wood, the timely arrival of my reinforcements, and my medical unit's assistance in healing the wounded. I had asked him to omit the facts about my mortars or their rapid-fire ability, which he readily agreed with all the officers in his command.

Glancing at me, John Dudley addressed me for the first time during the meeting, “Lord Eli, your brother King Edward appreciates your past assistance. You may return to your lands in the west, while the Marquess and I shall finish the battle with these rebels.”

I knew that would be John Dudley’s reaction, he wanted to take all the glory despite the plan being mine and the forces that gave him the heights were also mine.

However, I had another idea in mind to one-up the Machiavellian statesman, “Duke of Northumberland, I would entreat you to allow me to send my medics to Norwich to tend to the injured people of this battle.”

John Dudley frowned at my request, trying to understand my calculations, “My Lord Eli, the city was recently occupied and may have assassins. Additionally, your medics appear to have many young maidens, who would be put in danger if I allow such a move.”

Bowing to him, I pretended to show contrition, “I merely wish to offer what humble services I could to your grace. My forces are too few and feeble as you see. We could not aid the good people of Norwich from the vile Robert Kett, but we can mend wounds and make the city presentable for celebrations after the battle.”

He accepted my offer with demands for celebrations and banners for his troops. He also requested that Robert join him in this campaign, which Robert accepted immediately before I tried to deny by instinct. When John Dudley wanted to take Robert away from me, I wanted to have Francis shoot the bastard in the head. Robert knew my mood and how far I’d go to keep him away from his abuser, so he took the choice away from me.

As such, Francis, Puck, the triplets, three companies of medical troops, and I entered the city of Norwich before the battle between Robert Kett and John Dudley was fought. While Oberon had led the mortar companies back to Bristol castle, the medic companies were not undefended. Every member of the medical unit was trained in combat and was armed with revolvers, which had more range than the blunderbusses. We also had another thing that Robert Kett’s rebels did not, a supply of grenades that could decimate their troops in urban warfare. We were not harassed entering the city, but Francis gave us locations of various secret rebel strongholds that he obtained a week earlier. Many of these buildings were abandoned, but a few were still occupied by rebel forces hiding in cellars, which were settled with shrapnel and incendiary grenades. Due to my ability to detect the composition of buildings and Francis’ ability to gain knowledge from dead rebels, we were able to hunt down the insurgent pockets within the city, including capturing several key rebel leaders like the former mayor Thomas Aldrich.

After taking control of Norwich, we administered relief and medical support to the civilians injured during the battles. At first, the natives of Norwich were scared to approach my troops for aid. On the second day, I announced the public trial of Thomas Aldrich and notable local rebel leaders captured. For the crime of treason, five men were hung, while another eleven who only offered material support for the rebels were stripped of their property and branded. After that show of force and justice, people began to appeal for aid from my troops.

By the end of the battle between John Dudley and Robert Kett a week later, Norwich was running normally again. The traffic in and out of the city continued through alternative routes, while supplies came from the Robsart stores, which I used freely to supply the city at no cost to myself. Norwich’s tradesmen, artisans, and even local farmers came to me to settle disputes or advise them on contracts. I was acting as the de facto Mayor.

I delivered on John Dudley’s demand to celebrate his troops, who were far worse off than their historical counterparts. In my world, the battle should have been an easy victory for John Dudley with only 250 men dead out of 14,000. However, based on the composition of his army entering Norwich, I could tell at least 5,793 men were wounded from a total force that numbered around 9,274. Robert Kett was captured alive with his brother William, but I learned that John Dudley had all the surrendered rebel troops put to death. Henry Dudley, Robert’s older brother, had died due to rebel cannon fire during the battle. Henry Dudley should have lived for seven more years and died in 1557 when he and his brothers were pressed into service for King Philip II of Spain. His death would be a contributing factor in allowing Ambrose and Robert to return to England without judgment under Queen Mary.

Robert barely escaped death as his older brother took command of the troops that were assigned by John Dudley, probably wanting to gain recognition and their father’s favor on the battlefield. Ambrose Dudley, who was part of a second charge that broke the rebel cannon lines, was able to pull an injured Robert from under a horse. Ambrose without his father’s permission brought Robert back to Norwich to be tended to by Cordelia and the medics as John Dudley’s troops were clearing the battlefield and executing the rebels.

While the city of Norwich celebrated the victory, they were toasting Lord Eli Tudor, rather than Duke of Northumberland. You can win every battle in a war, but people recognize the victor as the one who brings peace and normalcy to their lives. John Dudley was a man stuck in his medieval mindset of glory and power through the battlefield, but he did not spend time making sure people were healed, fed, or resolved issues outside the battlefield that most people cared about. As an adviser to Kublai Khan once said, “One can conquer the empire on horseback, but one cannot govern it on horseback."

From this trip to Norwich, I had gained the loyalty of the second largest city in England and fealty from William Parr’s forces. While I could not incorporate them into my territorial administration, demonstrating my ability to rule as an administrator and battlefield commander would pay long-term dividends.

While John Dudley and his men enjoyed the hospitality of Norwich, I had Cordelia’s troops escort Robert back to my lands in the west for rest and recuperation. Robert had re-injured several areas and had broken his arm. I wouldn’t have trusted his care to John Dudley after what he did, but I couldn’t be with Robert during his second recovery at Cadbury Hill.

My original group headed south to London for my interview with King Edward and Princess Mary. I needed to make it there before the news reached the ears of Londoners. Successes on the battlefield are important along with taking credit for victory, but there’s a far greater truth.