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| When once I was an arrogant boy...; Phil | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Sep 27 2011, 12:36 PM (507 Views) | |
| William Spencer | Sep 27 2011, 12:36 PM Post #1 |
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Lord Winchester (courtesy)
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Summer 1501 - Castel Dell'Ovo, Regno di Napoli For the young Guillaume Spencer life was very grand indeed. Despite the pain of having lost his father, he had found much happiness in his life in France. He had lived in the household of his cousin who would one day be king, and he had also been around much of his family who were quite insistent that having no father would not halt his progressions as a man. His uncle de Guise and his grandfather had been a constant presence in his life, and he had been happy enough to serve them both whenever asked. His life had grown even grander more recently when his uncle finally won Naples back and was named Viceroy due to his Angevin blood claim to that throne. His uncle had explained that although he was the sovereign ruler of that place now, he was answerable to France as France had provided the armies and now the garrison. What William understood of all that specifically, at his age, was not much important as he understood that he would one day inherit from his uncle. That meant that one day he, Guy, would be Viceroy of Naples! How he had never thought for something like that and while he could hardly praise God that his uncle had shown to bear no viable sons, he was pleased enough to be the one who was so blessed. He would be better than the peers of France! The boy loved Italy indubitably. It was beautiful! The fruits were tasty sugared and like candy. The weather was fine and the wine a different nose entirely. The castles were gorgeous on the coast, and there was very little he was denied so long as he did his duties and was diligent in his studies. As his uncle's heir and young valet, he had gotten to see and hear many things and make service to a variety of those powerful men who would meet with his uncle--even the infamous Medici! Although, Cardinal Giovanni was his favourite, even if Guy did not always like his eminence's petit bâtard, the imperious little girl who would not let him be. Even if they had fun she managed to earn him a whipping more often than he cared for a whipping. Monsieur Bude having been called away, William had given up on his studies early, taking the time for a little liberty. He had translated enough passages to at least account for another hour or two, mayhap with more mistakes than usual, but the young Comte de Pardiac liked to make his way about without eyes on him all the time. Today he had stolen down the corridors and through the courtyard, gardens, and the blood orange grove so that he could find one of his favourite young maids. She was the daughter of one of Monsieur Charbonne's footmen and the only duty he had ever seen her perform was to put flowers and fruit out throughout the castle. She always smelled like flower blossoms and oranges and even at twelve, Guy could do little to resist. She was a little older than he, but she likely hardly guessed as he was quite tall for his age and easily mistaken for a few years older. Once he was away from the castle proper, he walked with his head held high, his hands folded behind him. Nobody here would know if he was or was not supposed to be here, or so he supposed, and he carried himself as if he had a right to go wherever he pleased. Few would dare contest it; they all knew he would one day be their master. He arrived at his destination and found her waiting for him, twirling a lock of her dark hair with anxiety. He approached her with a smirk. "Enchante, mademoiselle," he greeted with the seductive sweetness of a much more practiced man. Oh the lessons he had learned in France; lessons that had been orchestrated for him, and how thankful he was now. He would gladly to his duty of answering all Francois' questions about bedding a woman when the time came. Oh the benefits of being the eldest! Now though, he might not have the chance for such things, because his future was now in Italy, in his Naples, or what would be his Naples. Kissing her hand, he smiled at her, and then guided it over his shoulder before he leaned in and kissed her, pressing her against wall of the stable next to a fig tree. How apropos! |
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| Philibert de Chandee | Sep 29 2011, 11:09 PM Post #2 |
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Philibert, a man of God and now of war, could only decide that his success in life was because God Himself had rewarded him for being such a faithful servant. Perhaps even it was how he and the rest of Henry VII’s followers had prevailed in obtaining the Kingdom from one Richard III. Did it not appease God that Philibert had used the Catholic rule to recruit and make better men of some of the French soldiers? It was why Henry VII had rewarded him, was it not? Because Philibert’s support, and his men and his training had been a small part of Henry VII’s rise to become the next King. Now that he had his Earldom, he had become well known between the two countries he was part of. Well at least he was known more than he had been before. Before supporting Henry VII in the War of the Roses, he was just a God faring man who had took it upon himself to learn a thing or two about the way soldiers were trained. Now that he was somebody, more than his father had ever been, Philibert somehow found himself in Italy. He had been invited by de Guise to lead his garrison and having the chance to visit the Pope’s own country was too good of an opportunity to pass off on. To Philibert assisting de Guise would be a breeze compared to assisting the late King in taking over a whole country. He hoped though, that this would not anger God for continuing on with such violence, but se la vie, it was what Philibert was good at and there were men such as de Guise who knew that. For one certain boy though, it meant that Philibert being in the Pope’s country, thus proud to be a Catholic, and being here with such a task, he was more ruthless than normal. He was strict with his soldiers and that of de Guise’s. It mattered not that they were no longer in their own country; they could not simply misbehave or slack off just because they were out of reach of their King. Philibert would not stand for such intolerance. They were here for a job and nothing else, and God save them if they didn’t get it done according to Philibert’s strict rules, otherwise he would take pleasure in reminding his soldiers of them. He had even threatened one young lad that if he didn’t pick up his game, Philibert would make him walk all the way back to France with nothing but his shame to wear, for Philibert would not have such insolence here. Other than that one incident, Philibert saw little more. Many of the men who had survived the invasion on England had come to Naples with him and it was those men who helped keep the newer, younger soldiers in line. However, there was no man, no boy quite like de Guise’s nephew. If the Comte de Pardiac, William, was related to Philibert, he would have a sore rear every day, instead with compliments from de Guise, he would have a sore rear only every other day, and today looked to be one of those days. Because of the injuries he obtained in England, Philibert now had a limp and since the only task that was affected was his riding, he had been out putting him and his horse through paces. And he had to keep at it, to prove to the world that even a cripple can still be triumphant in war. Yes, normally he let the soldiers do much of the work, but if were to lead, he needed to be at the top of his game. He had just finished for the day when he spotted the young Comte de Pardiac, coming his way. Now what was he up to, looking so smug? Philibert glanced up at the sun as if he himself could predict the exact time, but when his eyes returned to where the boy had been, he was gone. Philibert’s gut instinct told him that the boy was up to no good, wasn’t he meant to be studying right about now? A little stiff, he made his way to where he had last seen the boy and as if Philibert had a nose for sin, he soon found the boy (the very tall boy) pinning some girl to the stable wall. Well Philibert was having none of that! Before the young couple had the chance to flee him, he strode up and grabbed the boy by his ear and pulled him off the young whore. He had little patience for whores, he had after all disowned his Step-mother and the children she had brought forth to this world for simply assuming she was one. With his free hand, he struck the poor girl across her face with the back of his hand. So shocked the girl was she cowered away from him. “Get out of my sight! I will deal with you later.” The girl didn’t waste time in scurrying away as fast as her legs could carry her. Then in his rage he switched to French as his eyes turned to the boy. “ And you, what were you thinking, shouldn’t you be doing your studies?” He shoved the boy in front of him, standing firm and cornering him so that any plans of an escape was lost. |
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[align=center] PLOT: :BIO: :TRACKER [/align] | |
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| William Spencer | Sep 30 2011, 12:49 PM Post #3 |
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Lord Winchester (courtesy)
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Guillaume and his lovely little maid were far too engrossed in their kiss to notice the approach of the gimpy man. It was not all the time that he was able to sneak away from everyone's prying eyes. He was mostly around his uncle or Monsieur Bude--or various other tutors--and had little time alone at all with his plethora of servants. A plethora of servants who would just as soon speak everything to his uncle, Guy knew. Not that he often did anything truly bad or sinful. Indeed, he preferred asking for leave to engage in whatever his particular pleasure was of the moment. He simply knew that his uncle was not sympathetic to his masculine urges. This was likely more because the man doubted his ability to control himself enough not to have a bastard, than it was because he truly objected to the idea; afterall, Guy had been shown his duties of manhood as if it had been just as important a lesson as his Greek earlier that year, so how could they object in the act? Needless to say when he was unceremoniously grabbed by the ear no less, he was decided surprised (as evidenced by his yelp) and displeased. "How dare you touch me! Unhand me you brute! Do you know who I am?" He protested rather imperiously as the man did nothing other than slap his friend and send her running. The man shoved him against the wall of the stables and being in front of him blocked any chances of escape. Not that Guillaume ever ran away. That was undignified and cowardly. Guillaume recognized the man somewhat, and was a bit loathed to admit that the man was not perhaps as lowly as he presupposed. Chandee was in charge of the garrison that protected the city and had done some things of note that had gotten him titled in England; whereas, he had nothing of note in France other than being an exemplary military man. That was no surprise, the French were known for being ambitious and dedicated soldiers. He had seen the man enough times in his youth to know that he was a friend of the d'Armagnacs and had their patronage which was likely why he was even in Naples. The man knew how to fight and lead men and Naples, as well as the other battles in Italy, had been a paramount concern to the French and to his family in particular. Men did not make their way in France without patronage. It was not like in England where bastards who fought well were knighted and those of questionable lineage were given peerage. Guillaume could trace his line back to kings and queens on both his mother and father's side, and he was well-aware that it set him well apart from most everyone. After the princes of the blood, his grandfather was the highest gentleman of the kingdom and held the coveted distinction of being a part of the pairie which even the younger princes of the blood were not allowed membership. When Guillaume was with his cousins and especially Francois, he knew his place very well. Around his betters, he was a very humble and quiet boy, and he was most often around his betters, but around his lessers he had little issue with asserting his supremacy especially as he grew older and was formerly declared his uncle's (an consequently his grandfather's) heir. Being gifted with the right to use his grandfather's second highest title had been enough to give Guy a bit more of an ego. The distinction being so new, he had yet to completely figure out the exact appropriate way to hold himself--how to walk that line appropriately for his age and station. So he eyed the older men with annoyance. "What would you know of my duties, Monsieur, you are not my master?" he retorted. "But I will be yours one day after Monseigneur, my uncle," he added, his eyes narrowing a bit. Every Frenchman and Italian in Naples was a subject of his uncle and of King Louis. One day they would be his as well and that gave him a certain sense of importance. Perhaps he testing his own limits, but he felt that angry heat all through his body at being interrupted, and he was still a boy not much in control of himself at times. Sometimes even the smallest emotion felt like an explosion inside of him. If he had not been surprised, had not witnessed the man slap the poor girl, and had time to think, he would likely have said none of it. Unfortunately, he was not as old as he perhaps looked. "And you will not deal with her later, either. She is not yours to deal with. Her father is one of Monsieur Charbonne's men, and she was only doing as I please." After all, while she could assuredly say no, Guy had learned that certain women felt they could not say no to a man of a certain station. If you were high enough and her possibilities for marriage low enough, you could have your way. This particular girl, though, rather fancied him that he hardly thought she felt obligated. "Leave me be and go about your business, Monsieur, and I will not mention your man-handling of me to my uncle, the Viceroi." And he thought he was being generous. He likely should have thought about the fact that the man was a dedicated ally of his family and that he had obviously known his grandfather, uncle, and even his father for some long time. |
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| Philibert de Chandee | Oct 4 2011, 10:26 PM Post #4 |
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Philibert paid little heed at being called a brute; he had been called much worse in his years in battle. He would have struck the boy too, but he had refrained, for the boy was not one of his soldiers and most certainly was not family. Only if de Guise gave him permission would Philibert raise his hand to the boy, or bend him over and give him a whooping. Despite, how arrogant the boy was, Philibert noted that he had not tried to escape with the girl, but instead stood his ground and met a grown man head on. Now that impressed Philibert, if the boy managed to outgrow his arrogant stage he would make a fine man indeed, and perhaps even despite his injured shoulder, a great warrior. As de Pardiac made no move to cause Philibert any trouble but name calling, Philibert stepped back and studied the boy in boredom, again paying no mind to the words that sprang from the boy’s mouth. And then all of a sudden, the older man laughed. He let out a billow of laughter, probably on purpose, because that would surely annoy the boy further. Philibert knew that boys had hormones and Philibert had just robbed this one in fulfilling his needs. If it were up to Philibert, he would dress the boy in woman’s clothes and grant him those needs in throwing him to the men who had been missing the taste of a woman. Philibert’s own soldiers wouldn’t dare, but many of the others would love a distraction, even just to mock the boy. But the boy was pretty and to some men he would be good enough to satisfy their urges. “If I have robbed you, Comte de Pardiac, I can easily rectify your needs, with a trip to the soldiers, I am certain they have needs too!” He laughed at the mere thought, but then as if a switch had been flicked in his brain, his laughter came to a dead stop and a dangerous look appeared in his eyes. “Oh you have much to learn, boy. And yes, lets go visit your dear uncle and see what he has to say about this, and if you see this as a whore house, perhaps you should be paying for it.” Philibert had no intention to suggest the boy pay coin for his pleasures, but there were after all other ways a boy could pay for his whores. Philibert grabbed the boy by his shoulder and turned him to the direction back to the castle. He held the boy’s injured shoulder in a firm grip and if Guillaume attempted to break free or fight him, well Philibert could easily yank the boy’s arm the wrong way, just enough to cause pain to rip through his injured shoulder. And then an idea occurred to him. He could suggest to de Guise that perhaps a good month or so training with his soldiers would set the boy right. Philibert at least wanted a chance to work the boy’s shoulder, and perhaps his punishment can be benefit to him. With that in mind, he walked the boy back to the castle and into his uncle’s study as to where Philibert let Guillaume go and bowed respectively. “Pardon me, Monseigneur, but Monsieur de Pardiac seems to believe I have man-handled him, whereas I seem to believe I just caught him making whores out of the servants and avoiding his studies.” If Philibert were any other man, he would have flashed a grin the boy’s way at ruining the chance for the boy to complain. But Philibert was no such man, especially in the presence of other grown men, so his expression was blank. But perhaps if you looked close enough one might see a glint in his eye. |
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[align=center] PLOT: :BIO: :TRACKER [/align] | |
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| William Spencer | Oct 5 2011, 11:02 PM Post #5 |
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Lord Winchester (courtesy)
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Guillaume did not like being laughed at. Not in the least. The vexed look on his face grew more dramatic and was not the sort of anger that a small boy about to have a tantrum would wear, but something a bit more commanding than that. "You are sick! To mention such a thing is a sin," he spat back in disgust, hardly threatened by such a statement. His uncle, the Viceroi, would never allow it. If there was one thing that was always maintained, it was the dignity of those high personages who were destined to rule others. No base soldiers of common blood would be doing anything so degrading to him. "You think to call me 'boy', Monsieur! Where you raised in a barn or have a chicken coop for a household?" he asked, tartly, his brow furrowing in more annoyance. But the man had then grabbed him by his bad shoulder which instantly set a zap of pain through him and informed him that they would be going to see his uncle. "Paying for a servant! You are mad, Monsieur! Do not bother my uncle with such business, he will only laugh at you, and be cross with the interruption." He spouted out through the pain. "Not so rough, Monsieur! I have an injury, you will put me to my knees," he complained; although, it was a valid and honest complaint. He could not be held by that shoulder, perhaps by his upper arm but not the shoulder. His eyes were watering already as he tried to suck in breaths. He shortly found himself within his uncle's study, looking over documents and with a rather non-plussed look on his face. Guy said nothing but gave a deep and graceful bow. He would see how this man would speak before he did, and he was thankful he did so as the man mentioned nothing other than his advances on a girl. As if his uncle would care! Boys were supposed to do such things. Louis de Guise, Viceroi of Naples, was a man of action and principle. He was a d'Armagnac, a man of one of the largest and most prestigious houses in France and on the continent. He came from a line of warrior princes, and he felt that he had lived up to that lineage. Naples was once again French and controlled by his family, by him, through the right of his late uncle the Duke of Anjou and Calabria. Needless to say, he was a straightforward sort and of old blood and tradition. He was learned, and he was as if he had been born to rule this Kingdom. So when his page announced his nephew and the man toting him, he looked up from his papers and raised a dark eyebrow. He gave them both a nod in acknowledgement. "There is no need for pardons where the welfare and progress of my nephew and heir is concerned, Monsieur, and you are always most welcome." The man has his family's patronage for some long time and family friends were accorded a certain amount of respect and dignity for their sacrifices and respect. The french who was now an English earl had accompanied him to war and had stayed to command the garrison of their court. He had proven a successful military man in the past and de Guise's father had a very sharp eye for those who would show talent of use to himself or His Majesty. This man was one such man, and so to see him here with Guillaume had piqued his curiosity. "And you, Monsieur," he said to his nephew, "what have you to say? It is of an hour when you are to be with Monsieur Bude, no?" He had a feeling that this was the mere surface of things, and he was impatient to get to the meat of the matter. "Monseigneur, Monsieur Bude was called away, and I finished my translations, so I went to take the air only Monsieur found me after I had come across a pretty girl of my acquaintance and saw fit to strike her and disrespect my person." The Viceroi frowned at this explanation, sensing with skill that something was not correct about this story. Louis had been a boy once as well and knew what boys were wont to do and say. He had a feeling this was something akin to that. "And have you finished your translations properly?" When the boy replied that he had, Louis raised an eyebrow at him dubiously, "So if I were to check them, Guillaume, I will find them representative of your aptitude and accomplishments? And if they are substandard shall I assume you have been shirking your studies and tutoring and being recalcitrant?" The look on the boy's face and in his eyes was enough to make de Guise say, "Do you attempt to deceive me, as you well know what is the result of that?" He heaved an already disgusted sigh at his nephew. "And Monsieur," he said, looking back at Chandee, "What is this business with whores and manhandling? We already see that this trip outside began with deceitful and base intentions, so am I to assume they simply carried on to this moment, as I think is the case?" Straight to the point of the matter. He could not adequately lesson the boy if he did not know what had happened; although he would gladly discipline the boy on Chandee's recommendation alone. Such things were rather unspoken truths. He would rather know what wickedness his nephew had been drawn to so that he could ensure it was corrected. |
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| Philibert de Chandee | Oct 6 2011, 10:25 PM Post #6 |
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Philibert’s eyebrow rose as the boy spoke of sin, he was laughing no more now, because this was no longer a laughing matter. Philibert took his religion very seriously and if one accused him of sinning, well he took it as an offence. “And abandoning your studies to lift up a servant’s skirts, isn’t? Philibert knew that he sinned, it was hard not to within his profession, but he always confessed his sins to God and paid the price for his sins, but what of the boy? No, the more the boy spoke, it was clear that he did not know his place. The mention of Philibert’s household made a sudden change in the older man; something dangerous appeared in his eyes. It was likely just mere coincidence that the boy mentioned such a reference, because compared to the life de Pardiac has, Philibert had grown up in a barn. It was why he took his profession so seriously, because he had earned his place in the world. Guillaume would just have to learn just how easy he had it, and that is likely why Philibert had interrupted his moment with the young servant, because you could not reap the spoils until you had fought for them. This is why Philibert had grabbed the boy at his weakest place, he had offended him and Philibert will not tolerate it. Philibert though, knew the repercussions for ruining the boy of the use of his arm, so he hadn’t grabbed him that hard, but it was enough to cause discomfort and a little pain to show how serious this was. He ignored the boy’s outburst about his arm, but instead of lessening his grip, he let go completely and shoved him forward as they neared de Guise’s study. Philibert gave de Guise a curt nod in response of dismissing his pardon. But no matter how many times Philibert was told that, he would still treat his superiors and elders with the outmost respect, a lesson that the young de Pardiac needed to learn. He was however silent as de Guise addressed his nephew, standing patiently waiting like an obedient servant until he was addressed. Philibert though was not a man to tattle on anyone, even if they deserved said punishment. In fact, he punished his soldiers if they gave in too easily, because how could you trust someone with important information if they were to tell another, perhaps one’s enemy? But since de Guise asked, Philibert answered and explained. “Monseigneur, I was by the stables when I saw Monsieur de Pardiac, coming my way. I knew he would have been with Monsieur Bude at this hour, so I went to see what he was up to, and that is when I found him with one of the servants and he was quite eager to turn the young girl into a whore for his pleasures. I put an end to it, sent the girl on her way, to which young Guillaume in his disapproval, showed me the outmost disrespect, of my person and my family. If he were one of my soldiers…well let’s just say his pleasures would be removed. And it was just as well that I caught him, before he started fathering bastards all throughout Naples!” Or his pleasures could simply be beaten out of him, but there was a rumour amongst the soldiers that Philibert had turned men into eunuchs for thinking with their pricks. But they were just rumours, but that didn’t mean Philibert was going to set them straight, it after all made his men think twice about delving into lust, and that was what Philibert wanted. “And the man-handling I did of my own, Guillaume does not believe he can be touched, because he is your heir, Monseigneur, so I brought him here for you to decide whether this is to be true.” |
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[align=center] PLOT: :BIO: :TRACKER [/align] | |
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| William Spencer | Oct 7 2011, 12:42 AM Post #7 |
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Lord Winchester (courtesy)
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Guillaume knew that his ruse was coming to a quick end, and he knew that his uncle could see that he had been premature in seeking his freedom. His uncle was smart and Guillaume was in trouble either way: either his work was just poor today and he had shirked his lessons or his work was consistently poor, and he'd be whipped for that too, he knew. He had no idea how his uncle had known that his translations would not be good. All he could do was look down and bow his head. "I do not seek to deceive, Monseigneur," he replied, "but perhaps I was over-eager to finish." There was little use in fighting it. He should not have left early. He could not unmake the decision, so now he had to do his best to control the damage he did unto himself. And it got slowly, slowly worse as the older man spoke of what had happened. He would not be so lucky that the man would only mention the girl. From the way that he had just heard his uncle speaking to the man, it would not have been smart for Guillaume to talk to him that way. It was remarkable how clear that was now as he looked at his uncle's face. De Guise shook his head at his nephew, his petit valet, "You do not wish to admit your deception so you would cloak it as if it were not a calculated decision. So either you are a liar or a fool ruled by circumstance and the drift of wind. Neither is acceptable for my nephew. Althought stupidity I can correct, a weak will I cannot." He would have done better to admit to presenting himself more favourably than the circumstances were in reality, because it was clear that being a liar who would own up to his lie was better. Monsieur Chandee's words did little to improve his temperament. In fact, his previous disposition was quite the high point in comparison to the disposition his blood was boiling toward. "Monsieur de Pardiac disrespected you when you stopped him from bedding a servant girl whilst in dereliction of his studies?" his utter shock and incredulity was written all over his face even as his lips seemed to shake with an impending explosive anger. "VENEZ ICI," he barked at Guillaume, whose posture tensed for a moment before he guiltily moved forward, slowing the closer to got in anticipation. He waved his hand impatiently at the boy as if to tell him to hurry it along. Guise took in a great breath, his nostrils flaring, and the moment the boy stepped into the strike zone, he backhanded him straight to the cheek and mouth, sending him skidding across the marbled floor. "Qui didicit obedire velle scire praeceptum! In French, in Italian what does that mean! Who said it!" He thrust his finger down at the boy as he raged. Guillaume at least proved to know the quote and repeated it as requested, before identifying the proper author. "That is what you are here for, to learn to obey so that you will know how to command, have you forgotten it! Have you grown idle straight into self-importance, because that can be remedied!" He was just beginning. "You are my servant and my subject!" He took a great breath as he hauled the boy's torso off the floor and shook him by the doublet."Proprietà di Napoli e di questa famiglia!" He dropped the boy and straightened up, taking a deep breath, trying to regain some composure. "You have seen Monsieur Chandee at our houses. You know he is a friend and ally to this family. You will not treat him with disrespect! You show him a lack of courtesy you are spitting on the work of your grandfather, your uncles, and your father. Even he knew Monsieur well." He shook his head with disgust. "Vous levez! M'apportez le verges! A présent! Allez!" If that was not a white-faced boy who would be thinking of this for some time to come! His dark eyes followed the boy out to obey his orders and then turned back to the other man who had likely fought in more battles than even de Guise; his life had been longer and more experienced at the least. "Monsieur will see that the boy will pay for his slight and to your satisfaction," he said, with a nod. "I am appalled to hear of his behaviour, and he is not wont to run wild at the mouth as it seems he did. Boys, my friend, despite knowing better have not yet had all the wickedness driven from them that temptations feed upon to drive them to sinful things." He shook his head yet again, his black hair moving very little. "I will have him whipped soundly. My steward shall bear the birch, unless you would wish to or wish me to do so personally." (in order: COME HERE! in french_"He who knows how to obey will know how to command" in Latin_Property of Naples and this family in Italian_Get up! Bring me the birch! Right now! Go! in French |
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| Philibert de Chandee | Oct 9 2011, 04:41 PM Post #8 |
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Philibert stood firm, he was a man of war and of God, standing still was one of those things that was natural to him. But however the only thing he hated of his moment was being a tattler. If Guillaume hadn’t threatened to tell de Guise about his man-handling him, Philibert may have gotten away with punishing the boy himself. But then such a thing of this de Guise would be disappointed with Philibert for not bringing it to him, so he had literally brought the case to de Guise in dragging the boy there himself. He could have easily forced the boy to confess his sins and he would have if he didn’t expect the boy would lie and Philibert had little patience for liars, even if they were just a boy. When a question was directed at him, Philibert gave de Guise a curt nod to confirm that what he had said was correct. He did not even flinch or feel sorry for the boy when de Guise raged on in numerous languages. Philibert understood that perfectly. He would have been the same if one of his kin had defied him, but then to Philibert, he had no kin. And he was a little glad for it lest he had a brother or nephew just like Guillaume. He could imagine it too, for it would be two boys getting up to mischief not just one. So yes he sympathised with de Guise and while he was a little alarmed that the boy was easily thrown across the room just from a mere slap, he did not stand in de Guise’s way, because the boy deserved it. Philibert would have back-handed him, himself if he had had a right to, but that is why they were here in de Guise’s presence because it was his right before Philibert’s. His face was expressionless throughout the entire scolding, and he would have stood to the side silent and averted his eyes from the confrontation between the uncle and the nephew. But Philibert was a part of this and while he did indeed stay still and silent, he watched, and watched the boy alongside de Guise once he picked himself up and hurried out to obey his uncle’s orders. Only once had the boy left did Philibert finally turn back to the man that he could safely say was a friend, after however long Philibert had known the d'Armagnacs. He gave de Guise another nod, but he would never gloat at the time of this, he would show sympathy for the man that happened to have a disobedient nephew, who just so happened to be his heir as well. At the very least Philibert could assist the man with his little problem and help correct the boy’s ways, hopefully before it was too late. “You have my gratitude, Monseigneur, you and your family have done much for me, and I only hope to help rectify the young boy before he tarnishes your family name. And if you permit it, I prefer to weld the birch myself, and perhaps a little training with my soldiers could do him good, yes?” He paused and then added. “I would like to help the boy with his shoulder if I may. For I am one to know fully well to not see an injury as a disadvantage, one can only work with it and move on, and a boy who is not yet a man might need to be taught that very notion. It will do him some good, I think.” |
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[align=center] PLOT: :BIO: :TRACKER [/align] | |
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| William Spencer | Oct 9 2011, 08:29 PM Post #9 |
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Lord Winchester (courtesy)
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The shame that came crashing down on him when his uncle slapped him across the face and knocked him to the floor from force and shock was far worse than the sting across his cheek and mouth. He froze on the floor, knowing that backing away or seeming to flee would not help him. If there was one thing Guillaume knew very well and had known all his life, it was that he was expected to take his punishments with dignity and submission. He rattled off the quote in French and Italian, citing it as Solon, a Greek. When his uncle yelled, he knew that he should have known better than to lay insult to any gentleman. He was a representative of his uncle, and indeed, he was now beginning to realize the magnitude of the egregious slight. So when the man bellowed at him to fetch him a birch, he hastily got to his feet, bowed himself out, and obeyed. As much as he loved and revered his uncle, Guise could be quite scary when enraged. When his nephew left, Louis inclined his head to Chandee. "Indeed, Monsieur, you are being quite gracious if the boy disrespected you. It is quite clear the amount of respect you deserve from him, as I guarantee he can tell the difference between a minor gentleman and a commoner, let alone a man titled." He stood with his hand behind his back, his chin jutted out, but with a look of only minor interest on his face. This was a simple matter concerning his nephew and valet. He would see it easily done. 'Of course, such is your right. It is your honor he offended, no matter how stupidly. I will most easily allow you to mend the offense to your satisfaction with the verges. He will be no problem and take a whipping with dignity," Guise replied as if it was no large matter. "As to training. I would be hesitant with such a thing. He has a weapons tutor and such exercises in such a public realm is...questionable...although perhaps good for character. Should you wish a smaller forum and wish to dedicate your supervision to the task with a few of your more trusted men of standing, I am amenable to that. Simply understand, Monsieur, the injury to his shoulder is very severe. I allow him no excuse for it, so he will not complain; thus, his masters must know for him when enough is enough." Guise leveled his eyes at the man as if to say that it would be something he would need to devote his undivided attention to for the welfare of his heir. "If you like, I shall give him to you to serve you. I admit, I am very displeased. Such conduct makes him unworthy of serving me. Perhaps I shall make him have to earn the honor back so that he can fully appreciate the grandeur of his place and remember it well." It was a good idea. It would take the responsibility from his hands for a short time so that he could evaluate if perhaps he should spend more time personally with the boy. "I think such a thing would restore his christian humility which he seems to have forgotten, not a good habit for a boy. He shall be your valet then, for at least a fortnight, use him as you will, but within reason for the dignity of his station and future. Because of the injury he will need to bring his manservant, as he cannot dress without aide and will require bathing for the relief of his shoulder. He must also allotted time to lay to take weight off the lame arm. Monsieur Bude will forward his schedule for lessons." When Guillaume returned his uncle and Monsieur, who he could not believe was still there, were talking. Licking his lips and trying not to pout because he knew that was undignified, he bowed, and walked forward with the birch which was about a meter long and of bound together hazel sprigs which were always his uncle's preference. He made a move toward his uncle, but was quickly waved off. He was perplexed until he realized the intention. Guise looked at his nephew, who was quite pale in anticipation of his punishment. God bade them beat the wickedness from children, and there was no more or less to it. That simple. "You will give it to Monsieur," he instructed, "You are ten and two, not a man. Unless you wish to put your sword and your life behind your insulting behaviour which paid Monsieur's honor an indignity, you will restore it to him as he sees fit." He watched as the boy held the implement out to the older man, at least looking properly ashamed. Good, he would not see the boy behave like that at this age and to close allies of the family. The young comte de Pardiac could not manage to bring his eyes up, especially as he realized that his uncle was going to allow the gimpy older man to whip him; although admittedly, he did not wish to stand across from the man behind his sword, either. He was not so very foolish and arrogant. He understood why the punishment was appropriate. He could not stand behind his sword, so this was the only other option. He held the verges out to the man with a quiet "Monsieur" and then took off his sleeveless doublet and pulled his great linen shirt out of his hose with wordless resignation. His body felt rather heavy and his mind rather detached. He did not wish to look at either of them as he lowered his hose down his thighs, bunched his shirt up under his stomach, and laid his chest across Guise's desk to take the punishment. He took in a breath and squinted his eyes a bit in preparation for the sting of the first lash on his backside. |
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| Philibert de Chandee | Oct 13 2011, 10:35 PM Post #10 |
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Philibert paid little mind to the boy as he left, all his attention was on the one who deserved it. He nodded his head in response to de Guise’s words. He respected the man and allowing Philibert to weld the birch proved that de Guise respected him just as well. And nodded again, understanding Guise’s reluctance to Philibert’s suggestion. He bowed his head in respect. “Of course, Monseigneur, I would not do anything to put the boy in harm’s way, I shall treat him as if he were my own nephew and heir. Only my most trusted men will have access to him, and I will be there to supervise if it is not I who is training him. I have no intention to ruin the boy, only simply to help him. I have been training soldiers much of my life, Monseigneur, I know how far I can push him without causing harm to his injury.” He paused and a hint of smile appeared at the corner of his mouth and he nodded once more. “That is admirable enough, I can have him stay in my rooms and will only allow him to leave them under my intense supervision. And I shall have my own schedule for him to be made up in consistency to his own, then I can ensure that he has a balance of the tasks and training I shall give him with enough time to rest. And if you would like, I can have the schedule sent to you, for your approval.” Philibert wasn’t stupid, he knew he had the life of the man’s heir in his arms, and he knew well enough that even if it was a mere fortnight, damage could be done to the boy that could last the rest of his life. Philibert, wanted to help correct the boy, not ruin him. Too much was at stake after all, including his alliance with de Guise and the boy’s family and Philibert would rather take his own life than to disrespect such a great family, and de Guise had to know that. Philibert was a very religious man, and one had only to remember that taking one’s life was a sin and his very soul would be taken straight to the depths of Hell. For Philibert to lay his own soul on the line, no one had to doubt his loyalty. Now that the matter was all agreed, just as easily dividing rations amongst the soldiers, Philibert was silent again as the boy returned looking guilty and very sorry for his actions. Philibert would have let allowed the boy some leniency just for that, but a punishment was a punishment and he wanted the boy to remember this day. He nodded to the boy as he handed him the birch and took it from him. “Monsieur de Pardiac.” Even during punishment, Philibert knew respect, even for his own soldiers, especially those with titles. He had no intention to put a sword to the boy, he knew the boy’s value, at most he would have turned it around into training. For if the boy could see Philibert in action even with his limp, perhaps the boy could learn from that? The birch though was efficient enough, and he watched the boy, with no emotion etched on his face, as Guillaume prepared to receive his punishment from the very one he had disrespected. Seeing naked men or half naked boys was not rare for a man who trained soldiers and went to battle with them. Philibert had punished aplenty in his years, so lucky for Guillaume his strikes were not raw. Philibert too had a technique to serve the sting from the birch without the need to draw blood, as for this boy’s blood was precious. He counted out aloud, after each strike so that the boy never knew when they were coming. He did the same to his men, teaching them to think for themselves, because not everything was handed to them so easily, especially during battle. Philibert counted to 60 and stopped, nodding to de Guise deeming the punishment over. He could have gone up to 100 but alas, ordering the boy for a fortnight was going to complete his punishment, and already Philibert had certain tasks in mind, for the boy to learn that disrespecting him would be the last thing the boy ever wanted to do again. (Did you want to jump to one of the days he is serving him?) |
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[align=center] PLOT: :BIO: :TRACKER [/align] | |
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| William Spencer | Oct 13 2011, 11:57 PM Post #11 |
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Lord Winchester (courtesy)
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Guise watched with slightly narrowed eyes as the boy bent over the desk. The slighted man reared back his arm, and Guise sat back down behind his desk to observe in mild interest. He could tell the man did not use all the force he could. It was just as well, and the man surely made up for that in quantity. From the short hisses that came from his nephew, he knew the boy would be properly lessoned and that said lesson would be enduring. His backside would not find comfort for some time. It was just as well. Leaving off his studies so that he could bed a chambermaid, get caught, insult and disrespect a gentleman, and then try to gloss it over like some accidental wavering from innocence? No, that would not do at all. Guise nodded back at the man when he was satisfied. He sat silently as the boy composed himself and then slowly moved off the desk, biting his lip. A flick of his head motioned one of the servants to help the boy clothe himself. "Pardiac, you will go and serve Monsieur. I am giving you to him. If you cannot be trusted to deport yourself properly, you do not deserve the honour of serving me. I wish you to think on that. Perhaps one day when you are a great man, you will know the importance of having expectations for your servants." That definitely seemed to have an ill effect on the boy, and Guise decided to cut him short before he could say anything or throw himself on his knees and beg ridiculously. From the look on the boy's face, he could nearly expect such idiocy. "I will hear not a word on the matter. You will obey, and that is that. It will be good for you to serve a lesser master who you do not wish to serve; it is a good lesson for life as God does always allow us the choice of whom deserves our obedience but dictates who will have it nonetheless." The sting and heat on his bare skin made him grit his teeth to keep from crying out after a great many strokes. He sucked in air between strokes and hissed it out with each one. His mouth took on an metallic sort of a taste and his eyes squeezed partway shut. When it was over, or he thought it was over, he took in a great couple of breaths, laying across that desk. Once he felt he could keep himself from shaking if he moved, he backed himself off the desk by slowly walking backwards with his hands. His shirt fell down as he straightened up, and one of the servants came forward to help him put his doublet back on and right the rest of his clothing. That, however, was not the worst shock and pain of it all. Besides the utter humiliation of having to bare himself to take a whipping from that man, now he would have to serve him? His mouth dropped open, and he gaped at his uncle. His mouth was quickly shut when the man informed him that there would be no words on the matter. He would be cast from his place? Stunned would have been understatement. Of course, there was no choice in the matter but to just bow deeply and obey which is what he did. *** The young Comte de Pardiac had spent most all of his last many years serving someone, so it was not that he was particularly arrogant or selfish, but he did not wish to be thrown from his uncle's side. He could not pull the slight pout off his face even with all his might and will. It had been some long time since he had to sleep like that. He wished his own bed in his own rooms back, with his own horde of servants. Assuredly, he was quite humbled. The man kept him quite busy. To be honest, Guillaume was not entirely used to not having many others his age or younger around and having a good portion of his duties be seeing to a young prince's entertainment. This was hardly such diversion. Nor was it the grandeur that made up for it in serving his uncle. He had to prove to his uncle that he had learned his lesson and that he would serve him obediently and properly and adoringly. This situation, he did not like. And when he was idle, the English earl found something proper for him to do. His current task was translating the most boring treatise on religiosity and living with virtue that he had ever deigned to read, let alone take from Latin into French. Not that he was not already aware, but he was growing tired of reading and writing that the temptation of man came from between his legs. Of course the work went into great detail of what happened to such tempted sinners. It was enough to make Guillaume sweat a bit. So much of it talked about the same thing in ten different ways. It was exhausting to read. His head in his left hand and his quill in his right, he slowly wrote and the writing grew slower and slower until his eyes were half open. |
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| Philibert de Chandee | Oct 22 2011, 04:42 AM Post #12 |
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Philibert had paid little mind to punishing the boy, but it was needed to help the boy grow into a man. It was why also the boy’s punishment lasted until here and now serving someone who the boy had quite plainly declared was inferior to him. It was possibly one of the worst mistakes Guillaume had made, because now Philibert was allowed to treat the boy as a mere servant. He had him shining his boots, helping him dress, cleaning his clothes, wash his hands, all such tasks a boy would hate for a man who was nothing compared to him. Philibert though was not smug about it, he was better than that, he did this for the boy’s benefit not his. If someone needed righting than Philibert wouldn’t hold back in righting them and de Guise had given him the opportunity to assist in doing so with his very own heir! Truthfully, this was an honour for Philibert, just as Guillaume should be honoured to do his uncle’s bidding. It wasn’t all just servant-like tasks there were of course meaningless ones as well (at least they would be to the boy). Such as balancing bibles for a length of time, translating scripture, sorting books into alphabetical order only to change his mind and want them in chronicle order or genres, and of course spilling numerous amounts of beads and making the boy sort them into colours. It would all be meaningless to the boy, but there were reasons behind it. Philibert wanted to strengthen the boy’s resolve; surely real torture couldn’t be compared to this? Philibert had even resorted to keeping his old threat in the boy’s presence; a plain dress in Guillaume’s size had been put away where the boy could find it. Philibert would never dare to carry out the threat, but the presence of the dress did enough to make the boy sweat a little. There were of course other ways to make a boy sweat, and it was what he needed the most; training. Philibert kept his promise to only expose the boy to only a few of his most trusted men, men who would barely know who exactly the boy was if someone asked them, it was not their business. But what was their business was the need to train this boy to his limit. They knew of his injury and his importance, so they wouldn’t ruin the boy, but strengthen his arm, but also point out ways for him to cover his so-called weakness. Not just defending himself in a fight, but skilfully hiding it from thy enemy, or even letting the enemy see it and use it only for him to be the one to prove his enemy wrong. He may have a weakness, but that did not mean he was a weakling. Strangely enough, despite disrespecting him, Philibert was somewhat proud of the boy and he knew that if he stayed true to his teachings, he would be a great man someday. But Philibert wasn’t stupid enough to let the boy know of this, he would have to prove it to himself. Philibert knew the boy had a long way to go, which is why he pushed him into frivolity tasks, maybe now the boy would understand what it is like to be a little man. Philibert knew the boy hated these tasks, but he paid no mind to it, as long as he got the job done, Philibert was content. Not completely them though or slacking off, well, he was doing that right now wasn’t he? Philibert sat at his own desk, seemingly resting his eyes, but it would seem that this man knew all; Guillaume shouldn’t be taking the quiet for granted. Stalking up to him, with grace, Philibert slapped a ruler, or wooden rod onto the boy’s desk in front of him, so hard one might have thought the ruler snapped in half. “This isn’t bedtime! No slacking, until the task is completed. And straighten up!” He tapped the boy’s back lightly. “What if I had been your enemy, you would be dead already! How am I to break such news to your uncle, the Viceroi, that you were killed because you fell asleep! You must learn that in dire need you must be vigilant at all costs, and even so, you may know not when your enemy will strike!” He tapped him again for extra measure, as if prodding him with the ruler was his killing stroke, and the boy was now a dead man for not being on his guard. (ruler *sigh* so hard to keep a straight face XD ) |
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[align=center] PLOT: :BIO: :TRACKER [/align] | |
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| William Spencer | Oct 23 2011, 05:40 PM Post #13 |
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Lord Winchester (courtesy)
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Guillaume was fading very fast, his attention for translating dwindling to nothing as his hand started to ache and twitch. He ignored it, mostly, and just continued on, albeit slowly. He swallowed lazily, his eyes barely moving from one text to the one he was writing. So when there was a sudden 'WHAP' as Monsieur de Chandee seemed to materialize at his side, smacking a rod on the desk, Guillaume was quite liberally startled. His hand slipped into the ink pot which spilled and he jumped back, nearly knocking over the chair. He grunted as the man poked him. He straightened and then had a look of a pout crossed with disapproval as the man poked him again. "If Monsieur wants to fight me, it would be a welcome distraction to get handed my defeat that way," he replied hopefully, his dark eyebrows going up and making his eyes widen in entreaty. Anything to get out of translating this drivel. The man's lecture hardly impressed him and not because he wished to be contrary, but because to him there was little logic in it. "But Monsieur is supposed to protect me, so why should I fear, unless Monsieur is not doing his duty. I think that unlikely." He turned the ink pot back up and frowned at the ink on his hand and the mess the spill had made. Why was it always with him and the ink and his work getting ruined? "Please, may I do something else, Monsieur? I did translations all day in my lessons prior to now. My arm suffers from too long at that..." At this moment, he would rather be put to any other task. He might not like or wish to do what the man asked of him, but he did what he was told with a respectful deference. He pretended that he was pleased enough to kneel and clean the man's boots or to wash his hands for him or sleep by his bed. He was not pleased but knew any disobedience would not do anything for his favour with his uncle or with Monsieur Chandee whom his uncle seemed to trust unwaveringly. |
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| Philibert de Chandee | Oct 25 2011, 11:03 PM Post #14 |
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Philibert’s brows furrowed as he watched the boy jump from the fright he had received from being caught off guard. Disappointed he was, very disappointed. The boy indeed had much to learn. He did not respond to the suggestion of a fight. If the boy sought out fights, he would surely get himself killed! He grunted lightly and used the rod to inspect the damage his book had received. “What a waste, Guillaume, hours, days, weeks and even years have been put into producing parchment, ink and quills for your disposal and you ruin them within seconds! If the book is ruined you will be replacing it out of your own pocket!” He tutted and shook his head, giving the boy a stern look. “And who will protect you from me[/i], Monsieur? Do not be ignorant to believe that you can trust your allies.”[/i] Philibert was of course loyal to Guillaume’s family, he would give his life for them, but he did prove a point. Many traitors were the ones closest to you; it is why Philibert delved little into politics. The way he saw it, they could all kill one another and he would be the last one standing. If, however his Kings were threatened, he would step in with enough force to make the traitorous fool think again. And then a dangerous look flashed across Philibert’s face. He gripped Guillaume’s chair and spun it around with ease, the sound of wood dragging on the wooden floor, proving just how strong the commander was as the boy had no choice but to face him as he leaned in close. “Did I hear you right, boy, were you begging?” He shook his head with disgust as he straightened. “What will your uncle think when I send him my report, about his nephew being so weak? You’re not so sure about yourself now are you? Your arm, Monsieur should be your only weakness. You have to prove to yourself that the rest of you can make up for it.” He stepped back and shook his head once more. “No, clean this up and you can finish what I set for you. If parts of your work have been ruined, you can redo them and let that be punishment for your ignorance. Once you have done that, you can clean my boots. Though I care not which you prefer to complete first, just as long as that translation is on my desk by nightfall.” To end the discussion, and leaving the boy no chance to whine, Philibert spun and returned to his own desk, sat and picked up a book of poems in one hand and a goblet of his French wine in another, and ignored the boy completely. (By boots he is mentioning the ones NOT on his feet, unless you wanted to do that lol <.< ) |
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| William Spencer | Oct 29 2011, 02:13 PM Post #15 |
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Lord Winchester (courtesy)
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It was very strange how fast things could change. How fast reality returned. He felt like he was back in Paris with Marechal de Gie in Francois' household, where the man ruled with this iron expectation. Guillaume had the good Christian guilt for causing others' work to go to waste, so the man's choice of lecture was apropos. His eyes flickered down at the mess and stayed there. "My uncle does not give me coin of my own, Monsieur..." he said, lamentingly. "Monseigneur says I am too young." If something such as that happened with his uncle or Monsieur Bude, he would have been whipped for the damage precisely because he could not pay for it; nor could he have offered to do either man service to make up for the cost, because he already owed both his obedience. He hoped Monsieur de Chandee would not do so (for something that he had likely caused), because it had been mere days since the man had soundly whipped him the first time. It was still quite colourful and uncomfortable. Perhaps the man would have some leniency and really earn Guy's respect and adoration. The questions barked at him made him duck his head more, and he showed that he very well knew how to act; he knew very well the scripted sorts of responses he was expected to give. And he did not wish to be whipped either. He knew what was good for him. "Please forgive my ignorance, Monsieur de Chandee." There was nothing else to say. He was not supposed to speak unless spoken to, and he was not supposed to expound unless questioned specifically. He well knew that there were very few things which should ever come out of his mouth unsolicited, save asking for blessings or forgivenesses, greetings, and signifying his assent and understanding. And as his chair was wheeled around, his eyes went wide, and he knew that he had spoken out of turn and not in a way at all pleasing to the man. Guillaume thought that perhaps the man did not know enough about his shoulder to know his problems with writing for long periods, or perhaps he had thought that since it was not his uncle his complaints about his pains would be tolerated or sympathized with. Apparently Monsieur de Chandee would not tolerate complaints about his shoulder either. He bowed his head, "I beg your forgiveness, Monsieur, that was not my intention." He swallowed not moving, "I do not wish to disappoint or anger Monseigneur le Viceroi." His uncle would never take him back if Monsieur gave him bad reports, and he would be stuck serving the man until he was of age! "Yes, Monsieur." Guillaume stood up and hastened to obey, soon fetching the things to clean up the ink mess. A good portion of his own work was ruined, and he could look at it as nothing but God's punishment to him for being weak. He made complaint of his arm, and he would now have to do even more work from part of his being ruined! God would rather him quietly suffer and do his duty as he was supposed to. He took the supplies he had needed back out of the room and, before returning to his work, silently filled the man's wine. Holding in the sigh that wanted to escape him, Guillaume sat--straightly--back in his small chair and went back to his work, forcing himself to ignore the pain and to write more slowly and carefully so that the twitches of his hand would not make his writing poor. He would not wish to be forced to recopy it. His shoulder, arm, and hand hurt enough. It was some time later before he was done. He stood up and then placed his sheets of parchments on the man's desk, giving him a short bow. He disappeared and returned with a small bowl of water and a box with a brush and other boot-cleaning implements. After placing everything on the floor, he got down on his knees and then sat back against his heels. FOr a moment, he thought about which hand to use with the brush and which he might need to lean on to support him as he did the job. His right hand was shaky right now, but he could not put his body weight on it either. He would need his left to lean on, so he picked up the brush with his right and set to work, figuring he would soon get to hear the man's critique on his translation work. His new master would surely have something to say and some lesson to give, he always did. Guy was not so excited to be so much and so often under someone's scrutiny. This man let him out of his sight and hearing less than even Monsieur Bude did when Monsieur Bude was teaching him! After writing so long, his right hand did not see quite capable of holding the brush, so he hastily switched to using his left, letting his right hand sit in his lap. |
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6:26 AM Jul 11