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Noblesse Oblige by Henry H. Hilliard with Pete Bruno Book One
Twilight of the Gods Chapter Ten
"Get out. You won't fit I tell you; you're too big," cried Lord Martin Poole, but Stephen Knight kept forcing himself in. Then there was laughter as Stephen at last succeeded in inserting himself into Martin's top berth on the Pullman car of the Calais-Mediterranee Express. They were naked and, for reason both of deep affection and to prevent Stephen falling to the floor, they clung to each other tightly, giggling and laughing.
"Think of this as our honeymoon," said Stephen as he exploded with laughter. Martin, however felt the most beautiful warm feeling throughout his young body as he contemplated this notion; what would it actually be like to be married to Stephen, if such a thing could be imagined?
It had been a whirlwind two days. With all their pieces of luggage and its luxurious contents carefully wrapped in tissue paper by Chilvers and Paul, they had travelled in the dismal rain up to London where they spent the night at Lowndes Square. Stephen met Martin's cousin, Antony Vane-Gillingham, who was down from Oxford and they talked about the school in Blandford Forum that Stephen was to attend as a scholarship boy the following term.
"That Mingis is a snake. Watch out for him. I was all right because he is a snob and because I'm good at Lit. Yes, Christopher Tennant: didn't really know the chap because I didn't play much sport, but he's a good egg, I believe. It's a good school, Knight. You're a lucky fellow. We both are."
The train from Victoria left at 3:00 and before Stephen knew it he was on the ferry and out of England for the first time in his life. At Calais and again at the Gare du Nord Stephen was anxious to practice his French but the attendants replied to him in English when he needlessly asked for his window to be put up or down. In the first class dining car they booked a table for the deuxieme s?ance as Stephen was so excited that he simply had to suck Martin's cock in their compartment and he wanted to take his time about it. Then there was the excitement of dining on superb food as the express screamed through the darkening French countryside.
The honeymooners did not even hear the carriages for Rome being detached at Macon and when they awoke, the rain and grey skies of the north had been miraculously replaced in the night by sundrenched ones flecked with white clouds as the train sped on past villages, vine covered hills and poplar trees that were all so different, but excitingly so, from the familiar scenes of home.
First class travel with the aristocracy certainly smooths all annoyances away, thought Stephen as customs officials, attendants and the other passengers treated them with something more than they could have rightfully earned had it not been for the accident of Martin's birth. Then they were a good-looking pair and the other passengers, especially, ladies itched to be introduced.
At luncheon they were placed opposite a young dark-eyed girl and an older man. The intimacy of the situation and the holiday mood seemed to make the necessity for an introduction less strict and soon they were chatting in English, about the food and travel.
The girl said, "It's Lord Poole, n'est pas?" Lord Martin Poole?" Martin replied that he was and introduced Stephen.
"But I am Carmen Otero and this is mon oncle, Prosper Iglesias. We know your father, Monsieur, very well. Has he not mentioned us or my mamam in his letters?" Martin replied that he had not, but added so as not to offend her, that he was a very poor correspondent.
"And of course you are on your way to see him; he mentioned it to us several times, didn't he Prosper?" M. Iglesias replied that this was indeed true. "And you, M. Knight (which she pronounced as 'Kna-e-tae') are going to Cannes with your friend also?
"Oui m'selle, c'est ma premi?re fois dans votre belle nation," said Stephen
"Cela me surprend,"
"C?est vrai. Je n'ai pas beaucoup voyage."
"Will you dine with us tonight?" asked Martin, keen to learn more and also wishing to break the intense stare between Stephen and the beautiful girl.
"Je' regret, Lord Martin," said Uncle Prosper, "but we leave the train at Marseilles, but we will be at Cannes tomorrow and your father has invited us to dine. No doubt we will both see you there and my sister, Carolina, will also be delighted to see someone of whom she has heard so much."
Afterwards Martin was much puzzled by what had taken place. "How could father have met these people?" he asked Stephen.
"What do you mean 'these people'? They seemed very nice to me."
"You're just saying that because Mlle Otero flirted with you and didn't correct your French."
"Well, you can't say she wasn't charming," Stephen said. Martin grunted. "And pretty." Martin made no reply. "And has such fine breasts. And why shouldn't she be in love with me?" said Stephen slyly, enjoying Martin's jealously.
Then, after a long pause, he added "But then why should I be in love with Mlle Otero? I have my own sweetheart with the most beautiful joues fessiers on either side of the channel and he bent down and kissed Martin on his buttocks. "I love you, Martin," he said seriously, looking up at him through his black hair which had fallen, adorably, down across his blue eyes.
The first glimpse of the Mediterranean in the purple evening glow was wonderful and full of exciting promise as the train sped along the steep coast. When they arrived at Cannes the heat hit them. It was getting dark but the thermometer was still in the seventies and the smell of the sea was combined with that of dusty pine needles and orange blossom. The boys knew that this first impression would stay with them for the rest of their lives. Stephen was fascinated by the palm trees and the pencil Cyprus. Here was bougainvillea, only cultivated in England with difficulty in hot houses, such as Lady Fanning's one of pleasant memory, but in Provence it scrambled over walls like the most common of street urchins.
A landau brought them to the Villa Elonere-Louise, an elegant Italianate villa on the fashionable Promenade de la Croixette and built by Lord Brougham. Martin quietly told Stephen that it was pronounced 'Broom' and Stephen sighed at yet another of those puzzling upper class shibboleths. Martin's father had rented a whole floor of this miniature palazzo and they were greeted at the door by the familiar figure of William, the footman from Croome, who had come south as his master's valet and seemed genuinely pleased to see them.
Lord Branksome received them in a charming room that combined French and English tastes and opened out to an arcaded loggia, hung with curtains, which overlooked palm trees and the sea beyond. The Mediterranean by this time was in darkness, but a soft wind brought with it delicious and unfamiliar scents that invited them to peer out to where glimpses of light in the blackness indicated fishing boats and, to the left and right, the lamps of the town promised excitement.
"It's beautiful, Pater!" exclaimed Martin.
"Yes, you can see why I love it here so," replied his father.
They fell to talking about Croome and Martin's brother, William. Stephen was included in the conversation and he was congratulated on his scholarship. Martin thought that this was ironic, in view of his father having paid so little attention to his own education in the past, until his recent surprise visit to his school.
William, the valet, took the boys to their room down a cool, tiled corridor. "This is the only spare bedroom, your lordship. His lordship hoped that you didn't mind sharing. There is a small dressing room through there and we could put up a bed in there if you'd prefer."
Martin did not prefer and he gave Stephen's hand a squeeze when William wasn't looking. There were twin beds and this room, like the drawing room, opened to a loggia from where stone stairs led down into a palm-filled garden.
In the morning the three tourists went for a walk on the Promenade de la Croixette. All three wore light coloured suits made of tussore and Stephen looked particularly splendid as he swung his cane and lifted his straw 'basher' to the ladies who glanced his way. Martin's father explained that most of the English and American visitors had departed as the heat increased, but August was still popular with the French who came for their holiday to Provence. Martin thought his father much changed from the stern, old-fashioned figure of his childhood. Perhaps France was good for him.
They looked over the balustrade onto the sandy beach. In deck chairs and on rugs were dozens of figures in bathing costumes and beach pyjamas. Men and women were sitting together thus attired and dozens more were in the water, which Lord Branksome said would be warm at this time of the year. Stephen and Martin were shocked at this public display of near nudity; the French certainly had different customs to the English, although Martin detected some English and American accents among these nudists.
As they continued their stroll, Martin felt Stephen tap his leg with his stick. Approaching them were two boys speaking German. They were wearing tight fitting bathing costumes that scooped down low on their chests and their trouser legs were mid-thigh and displayed two very large bulges. Martin and Stephen kept their eyes ahead until they passed and, unseen by the Lord Branksome, swivelled their heads as one to catch the sight of two delightful German bottoms flexing in unison as the bathers walked on. Another tap brought Martin's attention to a swarthy Provencale with a long cock visible down the right leg of his striped costume. There was another tap for a handsome blonde boy in short trousers, with his shirt open down to his navel. A small crowd of excited and laughing boys who came running up from the plage brought a volley of taps on Martin's leg until he had to mouth the words, "Stop it" to Stephen whose eyes were shining with excitement. When they reached the Pier Albert Edouard, his lordship asked the boys if they were going to bathe today.
"Yes!" they answered in unison.
As they were walking back along the Promenade, Lord Branksome waved his stick in the direction of some old shops and houses that were being demolished. "That is going to be the site for a big new hotel; three hundred rooms, all very up-to-date. I've invested ?7 000 in shares in the company that is building it."
"My God, father!" cried Martin, the colour draining from his face. "You didn't! Not that much!"
"I did," said his lordship proudly. I took advice from a smart businessman. Cannes is going to be very popular with rich people from England and America, not to mention the Europeans from the cold north."
"But the hotel will be only full in winter how does it make money the rest of the time?"
"That's just it. Some people are coming here in the summer too and we think it will become the fashion. It's already happening in Nice. What with sea bathing and the new Casino Municipal there's plenty to draw the crowds. Look at the Savoy and the Ritz in London. This will be a good investment for us and I can keep an eye on things as I'm already on the board of directors of the Carlton Hotel Company," he said with pride.
Martin felt sick as they returned to the house, but not really knowing the magnitude of his family's fortune he had no way of knowing how much of a dent a loss seven thousand pounds would mean.
"But it's not lost, Martin, not yet anyway," said Stephen when they discussed it in their room. "We like it here so why wouldn't other people want to come- including in summer. There's no other big hotel in Cannes. Go and talk to you father alone-or better still, go and see William when we get back."
The boys changed into their bathing costumes. Martin's comprised a sleeveless top with three buttons to the neck, which hung just below his hips over a pair of striped shorts that fitted tightly across his buttocks showing a bulge where his plump cock and balls were tucked. Stephen's was truly shocking. It was in two pieces: the top was a white singlet edged with navy piping along the narrow shoulder straps and the low-scooped neck. There was no skirt at all and it tucked into navy shorts or cale?ons which were held up by a cloth belt but did not even extend halfway down his thighs and the outline of his cock was alarmingly clear and Martin was sure that if he got hard it would poke out of the hem. He looked magnificent, but Martin feared he'd be arrested as soon as he removed his gown.
They crossed to the plage and found a vacant position where they disrobed, to admiring glances, and sat on the sand. Stephen had never been to a beach before and the sights, sounds and textures were all new.
"Come on," he said after a few minutes, "let's swim out to that raft."
It was further than it appeared and they were both exhausted when they reached it. Stephen climbed up, dripping and out of breath, and pulled Martin up after him. They lay in the hot sun on the salt-worn timbers and looked back at the shore. Stephen let his hand touch Martin's and Martin felt an electric thrill. When their breathing returned to normal they lay down on their backs in companionable silence.
A noise alerted them that someone else was boarding the raft. It was two boys they had just seen throwing a ball on the beach. When they were aboard they greeted Martin and Stephen in French, then in halting English.
"I am Gerhardt and this is Erwin," said the older boy who was tall and fair and looked about eighteen. The younger was dark and looked about fourteen or possibly younger. "You are Englander?"
"We are," said Martin and introduced himself and Stephen, "and you are from Germany?"
"We are from Lubeck and we are a holiday with our mother making," said Gerhardt.
"We saw you on the beach and followed you out here," said Erwin, "We wanted someone to swim with because we were gelangweilt."
"Bored," translated Gerhardt.
"And you looked like we might have fun making," added Erwin.
So the four boys jumped into the warm sea and had races and diving competitions and tried to stand on each other's shoulders in the water. Martin thought that Erwin had touched his cock on more than one occasion and was quite sure that he was feeling Stephen when he was swimming between his legs.
When they pulled themselves up onto the raft again they were exhausted.
"Are you brothers?" asked Stephen.
Gerhardt shook his head, "Nein. Cousins. He is meine kleine Cousin," he said and put his arm around Erwin. "Are you brothers, you are much different?"
"No, we're friends."
"You are very big," said Erwin to Stephen. Stephen laughed and flexed his bicep.
"And here also," said Erwin putting his hand on Stephen's cock which was bulging in his skimpy costume. Stephen did not object.
"My friend is also not small," said Stephen, but the boys did not quite understand, "Mon ami est aussi grande o? est important," he explained. The boys smiled in understanding.
"Gerhard, that one k?ssen ," he told the older boy. "I will this one k?ssen."
And with that the two German boys placed their soft Teutonic lips, not on those of the Englanders, but on their bulging cocks straining at their costumes. The K?sse were reciprocated and soon all four had slipped out of their costumes, having moved to the seaward side of the raft where there was slightly less chance of being observed from the shore. Both boys had nice uncircumcised cocks and the novelty of Martin's helmet-shaped one was not lost on Gerhardt who pointed it out admiringly to Erwin. Erwin held aloft Stephen's cock and waved it at Gerhardt and laughed, "Gro?en Englischen Schwanz!"
Both boys set to work sucking cock. Gerhardt was stroking his own Schwanz and playing with Martin's balls with the other hand. He looked over at Erwin whose dark head was furiously bobbing up and down on Stephen who had a look of amazement on his face. "Watch out, Stephen, er bei?t - il mord!" and made a motion with his jaws.
Almost at the same time Stephen let out a yell and pushed the demented Erwin off. Gerhard leant over and slapped the younger boy with such force that his head spun. Blood started to stream from his nose and tears from his eyes. Stephen, holding his wounded member that had the imprint of incisors half way down but no broken skin, quickly forgot his pain and was shocked by the treatment of Erwin. He held the crying lad to his chest and tried to comfort him, at the same time keeping his teeth at a safe distance from tender parts.
"He must learn," said Gerhardt sternly. "He makes to get too excited and then he bei?t. See?" and he pointed to a faint red scar on his own cock.
Stephen had calmed the crying Erwin and tried to wipe the blood from his nose. He gave him a kiss on the lips and suggested that they had better dress.
Presently the two boys departed, Erwin looking ashamed and Gerhardt cross and apologetic. Martin and Stephen did not immediately swim back but sat back shocked at the recent scene. Martin again checked Stephen's sore cock for dilapidations and said that it was a pity that he couldn't suck Stephen because he was feeling particularly randy that afternoon at the sight of Stephen in his new costume. Stephen replied that he thought that he might well endure the pain if Martin sucked him gently and was very careful, which he did and was rewarded by one of Stephen's more attractive loads, some of which was used as a balm and the rest as a lubricant for his own pleasuring.
Dinner at Villa Elonore-Louise was served on the cool loggia where the candles guttered in the breeze and shed a flattering glow on the company. There were ten to dinner and Stephen and Martin were reintroduced to Mlle Otero and Uncle Prosper. With them was a most remarkable woman who was introduced by Lord Branksome as Mme Otero but whom he referred to as Caroline when he thought no one could hear. She was a very beautiful woman indeed, about 39 or 40 thought Martin, who was not particularly good at guessing ladies' ages, and she shared the intense dark eyes and jet-black hair of her daughter. Her long straight nose and elongated neck disclosed her Spanish origins but she had long lived in Paris where she claimed to have been a dancer before she married an Englishman, a Mr Webb, whom was now dead.
It was clear within minutes that Martin's father was smitten with her and when he picked up a piece of lettuce with his fingers, she playfully slapped his hand and told him to behave himself. At the same time she looked triumphantly over in the direction of Stephen and Martin who were absorbed in the little drama. The lady was clearly no fool and contributed the most of anyone to the conversation, slipping effortlessly between English, Italian and Spanish. Mlle Carmen Otero sat between Stephen and Friedrich von Oettingen-Taxis.
Friedrich was a boy of about eighteen who was a distant cousin of Martin's on his mother's side. He had come to Nice with his married sister from his home in East Prussia. With his blond hair and good looks there was a certain resemblance to Martin, Stephen thought. His manner was lively and entertaining and his English was perfect, having gone to Harrow in England for several years and having had an English nanny as a child. Stephen and Friedrich easily kept Mlle Otero amused.
At one point Caroline Otero broke off the conversation at her end of the table and said to Stephen, riveting him with her black eyes, "Mr Knae-e-tae, have you ever thought about making a moving picture. You are very good looking and would be a great success, perhaps even greater than I was some years ago when M. Mesguich had me dance for Lumiere in St Petersburg-but you would be too young to remember that success fou.
"Ah! But I remember," said the Lord Branksome, "It was the talk of London as well."
Friedrich turned to Martin and said, "Cousin Martin, would you and Herr Knight like to go swimming with me tomorrow. It is my last day on the Riviera. Perhaps we could meet halfway at Cap d'Antibes; it is an old town and you might find the plage to your liking?"
The boys agreed and Carmen Otero expressed a hope that Stephen might like to see the Casino Municipal, perhaps one evening when she was dining at Villa Elonere-Louise again.
Cousin Friedrich left early in order to catch the local train back to Nice while the others left for the Casino, leaving Stephen and Martin alone. The boys went for a walk along the Promenade de la Croixette in the warm night air. There were still plenty of people on the street and in the cafes.
"My father's making a fool of himself over that Madame Otero, isn't he, Stephen?"
"Yes, it looks like the old story. She is very beautiful and he does seem quite besotted."
"I wonder what she's after? Money? Protection? Surely not a title?"
"She already had a title from her first husband, an Italian count. I tell you one thing: that 'smart businessman' of your father's is none other than Uncle Prosper. I heard them talking about the Carlton Hotel Company's board meeting in a few day's time."
"Does it look serious to you?"
"Yes, it does. She dines with him almost every night, according to William, and he takes her to casino where she loves to lose."
"I say, Stephen, do you don't suppose the old fool will marry her? Is she young enough to have another child do you think?"
Stephen shrugged. "Maybe he wants to make sure there's an heir for Croome. You and William aren't exactly doing your duty, are you?"
"That was very unkind, Stephen. Don't you think I know that," said Martin, injured.
"Well would you change from being an invert if you could?" asked Stephen.
Martin thought about it for a moment, then, looking up at Stephen, said, "No, not for ten Croomes."
When they returned, the thermometer was still hovering around eighty degrees. Martin called William.
"William, could one of the beds be shifted out into the loggia? Mr Knight says the room is too hot and his abominable snoring is keeping me awake."
"Very good your lordship, but you will need mosquito netting. I'll see to it," he said as he left the room to obtain assistance.
"That will be so wonderful, Martin, sleeping out under the stars, even if we are squashed into a single bed."
"Especially so," replied Martin smiling.
Antibes proved to be a slow, ancient town of about twelve thousand inhabitants, not nearly as busy as Cannes. Friedrich hired a carriage which took the boys down to the promontory to a place called Cap-Eden Roc and there led them down to a tiny sheltered cove out of sight of the hotel on the cliff. Friedrich was wearing old trousers and a fisherman's shirt. Martin and Stephen felt over dressed, but had their bathing costumes and towels in a canvas bag. They lay on the sand on a rug that Friedrich had brought and admired the picturesque fishing boats out on the azure sea and the tawny cliffs with their tufts of greenery that sheltered the cove from the wind. Friedrich removed his top and then his trousers and then his underwear. "I like Nacktbaden. I swim here unbekleidet and others sometimes come. Not often. At my home I swim in the Baltic Sea, even when it's cold. Sehr frei!" he said juggling his sweaty ball sack and smiling at the boys.
"We like it too," said Stephen and in a trice he and Martin were unbekleidet also. They had a good look at Friedrich who stood there inviting them to. He was tall and blonde, taller than Martin and more developed in the arms. He had a lot more blond hair on his body but his public area was shaved so in this locality he looked like a little boy rather than an eighteen year-old young man.
"Ja, I shave down there, Martin," he said to his staring cousin. "Like you I have a particular friend." Here he looked at Stephen. "I have a boyfriend at home. He is twenty-five. We like to do things together, you know, and he likes me to be smooth so I make with the razor like so," and here he made the motions of shaving, "and he is happy with me." He stood closer to the boys and invited them to feel the shaved groin, which they did.
Martin let his hands run down over the base of the blond cock and Friedrich did not object. In fact he lifted it up so that Martin could grasp it. He quickly became aroused as did Stephen who was watching it.
"Can I suck you Stephen; would that be 'cricket'?" asked Friedrich.
Martin said, "Suck him, Friedrich." So Friedrich motioned them behind a rock and sat down and spread his legs so that Martin could continue his work while Stephen squatted with a leg planted either side of Friedrich and pressed his cock downwards into his open mouth. Friedrich grunted and groaned and begged Stephen to sit on his face, but first Stephen squatted lower so Friedrich could suck and lick his low-hanging balls that were feeling quite sweaty, despite the absence of clothing. Then Friedrich pulled him lower on top of his nose where he licked, sniffed and slobbered, the exact nature of which was concealed by Stephen's thighs.
"Danke, Stephen I miss doing this since meine Eugen has gone into the Army," he said when he had had enough of Stephen's balls and arse crack.
Stephen then stood over the young man, pleasuring his own cock and keeping an eye of Martin who had stopped sucking and was now using his hand. When he saw that Friedrich was about to spill, he did not have far to go himself, having kept himself on the edge of release for some minutes so that both boys spent at the same time, Martin putting his face in front of Friedrich's cock and Stephen aiming for Friedrich's torso.
Afterwards, Friedrich, still lying on his back, had Martin come and sit on his chest and spend on his face, Martin's buttocks becoming slicked with Stephen's spilt seed. After this release both Stephen and Friedrich licked Martin' buttocks clean.
"He had the most beautiful cheeks," said Stephen proudly.
"Ja! Sehr sch?n," said Friedrich wistfully.
They lay back on the warm sand. "So your Eugen is in the Army?" asked Martin.
"Yes, and I must do my military service in six months. I miss him very much."
"What do you do together?" asked Stephen boldly. Martin thought that this was rude, but Friedrich didn't seem to mind however, and answered with equal bluntness. "Oh everything. He makes to fuck me and he likes to sometimes, on me-you know, pissen- d'uriner."
Martin and Stephen were shocked. "And you like that Friedrich?" asked Martin incredulously.
"Oh it's all right. Eugan likes to dominate me. He enjoys it more than I do."
Martin glared at Stephen who went very red and spluttered. Stephen quickly changed the subject and referred to the dinner last night and what splendid food was to be had in France.
"Your sister, Marthe and her husband are staying in Nice?" asked Martin. Friedrich nodded. "But they did not come to dinner last night?"
"No," said Friedrich. "I'm sorry to have to tell you, Cousin, my sister and her husband refused the invitation from your father. I only came because I wanted to see you."
"Why is that?" asked Martin, sitting up on one elbow and looking at Friedrich who was red with embarrassment.
"They are both very religious; quite strict. They would not visit because of your father's friend, Mme Otero."
"They know her?"
"Martin, everyone on the Riviera knows her. She is 'La Belle Otero', a dancer from the Follies Bergere who performs practically naked-or rather just wearing precious jewels."
"Well, we're naked," said Stephen, "and I'm wearing my jewels," he grinned.
Friedrich ignored him and continued seriously. "But I don't mind. I came. She is very attractive for an older woman. I can see that. But I am of a younger generation and so are you two; we are not so strict. But it is more than that: La Belle Otero has been kept by rich men all over Europe. She was the mistress of the King of Serbia and until last year belonged to your 'Bendor' -the famous Duke of Westminster. He got rid of her when she had an affair with Prince Albert of Monaco, despite his giving her thousands of pounds." He looked at Martin. "I fear your father may be next, but it is obviously none of my business and here I am blaggarding your father. I'm truly sorry Martin."
Martin looked very upset.
The three swam and played in the water that lapped the deserted cove. While Friedrich was swimming to reach a buoy that bobbed some distance away, Stephen stood next to Martin their chests dripping in the sun while from the waist down they were in the warm water.
Wading closer to Martin he said, "These Germans do strange things," and then wrapped his arms around him. "I love you so much, Martin, I would never want to humiliate you like that-although Friedrich seems not to worry." He kissed Martin passionately, the whole length of their bodies from forehead to shins pressed hard together.
Presently Martin slid his hand down between them and glided the palm his hand along the length of Stephens's cock, which was lying flat, squeezed between their thighs. "Go on, and do it," said Martin softly, "it's nice like this." Stephen looked at him quizzically for a moment and then, understanding, released. Martin felt a warm stream of piss on his thigh before it dissipated in the blue Mediterranean. All the while Stephen's loving eyes were locked on Martin, and Martin's steady gaze was checking absolutely any temptation for Stephen to smirk. When he was finished he kissed Martin very hard.
Martin said, "That was beautiful, Stephen, but this was the only time." They parted and rejoined the panting Friedrich who proceeded to show them his exercise regime on the plage.
The next three days passed pleasurably in swimming and promenading, the boys enjoying showing off in their new clothes in the palm-shaded cafes of the boulevard. Taking some local advice, they rubbed themselves with oil when on the beach, Martin taking great delight in massaging Stephen's exposed back and shoulders, but most afternoons were too hot for the beach and they repaired to their shaded room for a siesta.
One day, Martin's father took the boys and Mlle Otero up into the hills to a hotel where they had lunch looking down on the whole spectacular Cote d'Azur. Mlle Otero paid particular attention to Stephen who was lapping it up and made sure she sat close to him in the landau for the journey.
There were a few sailors in Cannes, having come over from Nice and Toulon. Many were tough-looking fellows, barely able to conceal their nakedness in their costume. These burley matelots invariably had tattooed arms revealed by their striped singlets that stopped short of their trousers, exposing an area of naked torso. Their dirty white sailor's trousers laced high and tightly across their muscular buttocks at the rear. At the front these trousers hung low on their hips with a wide panel buttoned up on either side like a codpiece in place of the usual flies and this gaped at the waist to reveal a taste of hairy sailors' bush.
Stephen and Martin were excited by these sailors and Stephen was sure that many would be willing to go with them. Martin said: "But what about disease, Stephen? We don't want to catch anything. Look at my poor brother."
"Ah, but look what I brought," he replied, handing Martin a box with German and French writing on it.
"What are these?" said Martin and then he caught on. "Where did you get them?"
"In a chemist. I struggled with the French: pr?servatifs, capotes. We could wear them when we went with the sailors," said Stephen.
"But would the sailors wear them with us? I doubt it," argued Martin. "I don't think I want to, Stephen, they're too old for us, and I'm not even fifteen yet."
"They're not all old, look, he said as two fresh-faced sailors about their own age sat down in a caf?."
"No, I don't want to. But let's go back home and try them on. What does 'pointure grande' mean'?" Stephen just smirked as he put the box back in his pocket.
On most nights Lord Branksome had the Oteros and Uncle Prosper to dine and the infatuation was obvious to even the other guests. The boys were changing for dinner one night when William seemed to linger in their room.
"Are you missing England, William?" asked Stephen pleasantly.
"Yes sir, I am, although I do appreciate the local wine and the sunshine, but I very, very much wish that we were back at Croome."
Martin was surprised at his vehemence and turned to William, partly to screen Stephen whom he noticed was pulling his evening trousers on over his nakedness. "You must have many duties as my father's valet," said Martin, fishing.
"I hope I have his lordship's best interests at heart, sir, and I could never speak out against him, sir," he said, waiting to be pressed.
"And what might be some of the tiresome things that might make it difficult for you to, say, give more of your time to rearranging all Mr Knight's new clothes?"
"It would be a pleasure to do anything for Mr Knight or for you, sir, but there are so many guests at dinner sir, every night."
"Do the Oteros come often, William?"
"Yes milord, practically every night and?"
"And? William."
"And I have to go on the train to Nice quite often, sir."
'To Nice?"
"Yes sir, to Nice. There are some very fine shops in Nice, your lordship. It is particularly notable for its fine jewellers' establishments."
"And you have to collect many parcels for my father?"
"Yes sir, very often lately and these establishments also do alterations sir; they are very good at altering old rings for example sir. In fact I have to pick up something the day after tomorrow sir, thank you for reminding me."
"Good evening William. I hope we can all be back in England soon."
"Indeed, your lordship." And with that he was gone.
"What was that all about?" Asked Stephen coming over to Martin who was sitting on the bed and had suddenly gone very pale under his tan.
"My father has been buying jewellery for that woman." Stephen shrugged. "But it's worse; he practically told me that he was having my great-grandmother's fabulous ring redone for Caroline Otero. It was her engagement ring and it was my mother's engagement ring. My father must be planning to ask for her hand. Don't you see? It's not just the ring; all the other men she's had have been married; my father is a widower and available- he's 'out' like Miss Orchard-Baird and just waiting to be snapped up."
"How can we find out?" asked Stephen. "Why don't you talk to him?" he offered.
"He won't talk to me; he'll simply announce what he has already done like he always does. He may talk to William, though, before he makes a move. Do you think Carmen Otero would tell you, if she knew, what her mother's intentions are?"
"Why would she tell me?" asked Stephen.
"Don't be stupid, she is half in love with you. Can you talk to her tonight?"
"Well, she did ask me to take her to the Casino, I could try," said Stephen.
"Yes, do that and, Stephen, if you have to-you know-with Mlle Otero then that's alright; as long as you still love me."
"Oh yes, I wouldn't swap my Mala for Mlle Otero."
"Oh really? What about Mlle Otero and a couple of sailors if the fleet happens to be in?"
Stephen pretended to look hurt and then suddenly kissed Martin hard, disarranging his white tie.
The dinner took place as usual in the loggia. Martin's father leaned across to talk business with Uncle Prosper once or twice, but was largely taken up with Mme Otero who was dressed and bejewelled magnificently and Martin wondered how much of her stunning appearance was due to his father and how much was the booty of those who had gone before. There were a number of theatrical ladies and gentleman at the table, friends of the Oteros, and the conversation proceeded in a far more lively fashion than it ever had at Croome. Martin couldn't help but enjoy it.
Stephen and Carmen Otero were also part of the lively group, but then Martin noticed that they were increasingly talking entre nous and he was sure that her hand was resting on some part of Stephen underneath the table. He fought to keep the bile down in his throat and took some more wine.
He looked up at his father who was now being harangued by Mme Otero for having cigars in his coat pocket which she was loudly saying ruined the fit and he heard his father meekly promise not to place no more than one there in the future.
After dinner they all went to the Casino Municipal, but Martin elected to stay home. He tried to read, but it was too hot and his head ached. He went for a walk along the Promenade and sat by himself in a caf?, wondering what Stephen was doing. Out of boredom and loneliness he ordered some wine and then, seeing that others were drinking brandy, ordered a cognac, which the waiter brought to the young English gentleman in the beautiful evening clothes.
Presently two sailors came in. One was a young man, perhaps in his early twenties, thought Martin, and swarthy, perhaps Italian, and was very handsome with a hairy chest and a blue chin. The other looked much younger, perhaps fifteen or sixteen and was fair skinned with light brown hair. He didn't even look as if he shaved. They were laughing and joking very loudly and some of the customers were looking at them in annoyance. The patron also was glaring. Martin, however, was captivated by their happy and easy manner and, being by himself, caught a little of their happiness. The younger one saw Martin staring and nudged the other. The swarthy sailor made an exaggerated sad face at Martin and tilted his glass to indicate that it was empty.
All of a sudden, Martin found he had the two of them at his own table and he was laughing too, although he understood very little of what they were saying as their dialect was that of Provence. They had more drinks and the older one now had his arm around the younger. They smelled of garlic and sweat.
They were tolerated for a time because Martin was an English gentleman but soon they felt they were no longer welcome and so they went to another place which was a bit rougher and they were joined by more sailors who were greeted as old shipmates and they were quickly all friends with Martin too as he felt that they must all be bought drinks. The proprietor wanted to close the caf? so they adjourned to a backroom. Or was it a room in another caf? altogether? Martin couldn't quite remember. The sailors began to sing and dance and Martin felt maybe that he was singing and dancing too. He couldn't be quite sure. Soon he felt many pairs of hands over his body and the two original sailors were kissing him, the young one with soft pink lips, the older one stinking and with rough whiskers.
The next thing Martin could remember clearly was waking up on the wooden steps at the rear of a caf?. There was the faint glow of first light in the sky. Before he even checked he knew his money and watch were gone. His shirt studs he still had. Suddenly he was sick, the nauseating smell of brandy assaulting his nostrils. His trousers were only roughly pulled up and he felt the drying seed of the French Merchant Marine between his thighs. He checked himself. It could have been worse.
When he regained the street, he realised with relief that he was not far from the Villa Elenore-Louise and, with one more stop to relieve himself, he made it to the outside stairs that led up from the garden to their loggia. On the stairs he met Stephen who was also still in his evening clothes.
"What happened to you? I was out of my mind with worry."
"I got drunk and met sailors," said Martin simply.
Stephen took him to the bathroom and quietly undressed him and sponged him down. There was much dried seed but Stephen confirmed that Martin hadn't been violated in any other way, apart from some scratches and what looked like a couple of bite marks.
"My watch and money are gone," said Martin depressingly.
"Never mind. You're all right."
"How was your night?" Martin asked suddenly.
"Well, Mme Otero lost again at the tables." Martin looked for more information. "And Mlle Ortero says that she hopes we can all become as close as brothers and sisters if her mother's wishes come true."
"Oh my God!" groaned Martin, holding his head.
"She's pretty certain your father will 'pop the question' any day now. Perhaps when 'he's discussed it with his family'-that means William, I think," said Stephen.
"Did you have to?"
Stephen nodded, "I used the pr?servatifs so you won't be a step uncle."
"Pr?servatifs? You mean more than one?
Stephen grinned, "Three times actually. Well, I had to get all the information out of her, didn't I? It would have been four but I had to leave before her maid was up."
Martin's head ached too much to be furious. He simply said, "Get in the bath. I don't want to smell Mlle Otero when you get into bed with me."
By now the servants were up and Stephen left word that they were going to sleep late and wouldn't be requiring their early tea. He slid into bed with Martin and cradled his aching head in his arms and whispered soothing words of love.
He thought that Martin had drifted off when he suddenly murmured crossly, "How could you Derby? Three times with that female!" Stephen simply smiled and softly whistled The Sailor's Hornpipe. Martin opened his eyes in fury and then saw that Stephen's silky hair had fallen down over his left eye and he smiled himself as he shifted his head to the triangular patch of hair on Stephen's shield-like chest and fell asleep.
When they arose, Martin set to work to write to William, telling him to expect them at Bournemouth in three days' time and outlining their concerns. "I hope he is well enough to help," said Martin.
At lunch Martin told his father that they were going to bathe at Antibes and may not be back for dinner. He also told his father that they would be leaving for England the next day. His lordship said that he was sorry they were not staying longer and that they would miss the Oteros at dinner. He also said that it was a pity they couldn't travel together back to England as he was planning to go after directly after the meeting of the hotel company board the day after.
"Perhaps if you wait Mlle Otoro can join you for Antibes?" Martin said nothing but made sure that they were out the door before that lady was summoned.
This time the boys wore fishermen's clothes and felt more comfortable as their hired carriage paced the five miles to the old red-and-white town. They stopped for lunch in a little bistro in a crooked, narrow street below the ancient walls. Martin kept reaching for his missing watch and Stephen teased him good-naturedly. They admired the square tower of the fortress and the curious square lighthouse, both of which stood out clear against the magnificent backdrop of the Alps Maritime and they walked arm in arm along the top of the old town wall.
Their carriage took them on to the little cove beyond Cap-Eden Roc and the driver was told to return in two hours. On this occasion there were three or four groups of bathers there and, as Friedrich had said, all were naked. Martin and Stephen tried not to stare but found it difficult at first. They too removed their clothes and headed for the water. Presently some boys and their father came over and invited them to join in their game with a ball. The father was rather fat with a thick cock and neither thought him in the least attractive. The children romped about, unconcerned with their nakedness, and soon Martin and Stephen too relaxed and forgot their state of nature. After some swimming contests, the boys hauled themselves back onto the plage and lay together talking.
When dressed, the carriage took them back to the town where they found another small restaurant in a delightful cobbled street, with tables set outside among pots of red geraniums and they dined on local fare including sea urchins cooked in garlic with a wine recommended by the Patron. The Patron's plump wife seemed to take a shine to the pair and came and sat with them as they tried to converse in French and English. When Stephen explained that the other lad in fisherman's clothes was actually an English lord the poor woman was beside herself and leapt to her feet which were comfortably ensconced in pantoufles and pulled at her apron which was stretched across her ample tumkin. Then she relaxed and sat down again, insisting that they try several of the specialities of the house. When they rose to go, having paid the modest bill, the woman suddenly kissed them each on the cheek and surprised them by saying, "Vous ?tes beaux gar?ons Anglais. Profiter de votre amour."
It was dark when they arrived back at the villa and the driver was paid off for his day's work. He was given a gratuity in case he had observed Martin asleep on Stephen's shoulder or Stephen's gentle kiss on the golden crown of Martin's head.
The boys drifted off to sleep in the net-shrouded bed on the loggia, lulled by the repeated crash of the waves, the soft breeze teasing the curtains and caressing their naked, sweaty flesh. The sound of a flowerpot being scraped on the flagging made Stephen awake with a start. He leapt out of the bed and pushed his way through the curtains. There was Carmen Otero wide eyed at the sight she could clear discern through the netting. Stephen rushed to her and stammered, "I'm sorry, Carmen."
"Bastardo!" she cried in a fury and struck him a blow across the face. Stephen didn't flinch.
"I'm truly sorry I have hurt you Carmen, but I love him." Mlle Otero turned on her heel and fled back down the stairs.
The slap had awoken Martin and he had caught some of what had transpired so briefly. Stephen was very upset and sat on the edge of the bed. Martin crawled up behind him and put his arms over his shoulders. "She saw us?"
"Yes," replied Stephen
"Do you think she'll tell her mother or my father?"
"I suppose she will, especially if she thinks we might try and stop a marriage."
"I don't care," said Martin, "she's a terrible person- a blackmailer."
"No she's not, Martin. It is I who was false. I have hurt her and I'm ashamed."
"But I was the one who told you to seduce her; it's not your fault."
"We should not have done it, even if we did think the ends were justified. I enjoyed making love to her. I'd be lying if I said I didn't. I was the worst cad. We're the liars, Martin; sneaking around in hotel rooms, messing up beds so they looked slept in. It is dirty. We're no better than Caroline Ortero. And who's to say that your father shouldn't have her just because she's not respectable? Is what we do respectable? Perhaps they should be just left alone and have their chance at love. I could not imagine going through life without having the person I love and as long as I had you I wouldn't care if you'd be fucked by the Duke of Westminster or if you'd danced before tout les Paris in The Follies Bergere in feathers- now there's a thought!" said Stephen, managing a weak smile.
"You're a good man, Stephen. Mrs Capstick is right; you are a saint."
They left the next day for England, saying goodbye to Lord Branksome and to Mme Otero. If either of them knew their secret then it was well hidden on their faces.
The journey home was not undertaken with the lightness of heart that their outward journey had engendered. Martin was conscious of the difficult task of explaining the situation to his dying brother and the impossibility of stopping his father from marrying La Belle Otero. The crossing was rough and the boys were feeling sick and tired. In London they dispatched the bulk of their luggage to Croome and caught the first train for Bournemouth.
They took a cab straight to Braemar and went directly up to William's rooms. Martin knocked and opened the doors. There, on the chaise, sat William looking terrible, ill, distressed. They crossed the room without speaking and William handed a telegram to Martin. He read it and immediately threw himself on Stephen who looked at William bewildered.
"It is our father, Stephen. There has been a dreadful railway accident in France. Our father has been killed."
To be continued?
Thanks for reading. If you have any comments or questions, Henry and I would love to hear from you.
Just send them to farmboy5674@gmail.com and please put NOB in the subject line.