Subdued sniffles echoed off the stone walls of Derrick's study and four equally subdued young boys shifted from one foot to the other, squirming under the firm gaze of Sir Derrick. Jared, seneschal of Gryphon's Leap sat in silent satisfaction, bearing witness to the reprimand Derrick was dishing out to his young charges for their behavior while he was away. Sir Evan did his best to look the strong and unflinching knight, but wished he were anywhere but in this room at the moment. Two or three of the boys dared to sneak a glare at him while Derrick scolded and each glare was met with firm determination by Evan to not reveal how miserable felt about this whole mess. Only Richard seemed to show any signs of regret over his actions.
".... will not tolerate this outrageous behavior by any of you." Derrick's firm voice snapped Evan's attention back to the situation at hand.
"All of you need to learn to be more responsible. If you will not take advantage of an opportunity to show me you can be trusted, then we will have to seek other ways of making sure the lesson is learned." Richard and Blaine seemed to pick up the threat of Derrick's words and blanched when the knight walked to the cupboard where punishment implements were kept. Seth and Michael, the youngest of the group, continued to scuff the toes of their boots against the rough flagstone floor, apparently thinking the paddle and strap Derrick produced from the cupboard were for some other use than to redden their backsides.
Without warning, Derrick took Michael by the shoulder and led the boy to the big leather chair in front of the fire. Before the child could utter even a small complaint, Michael found himself bare bottomed and staring at the thick rug under Derrick's chair, held fast over his knight's knee. Derrick delivered several hard and swift swats to the small bottom, his hand nearly covering both quickly reddening cheeks. Michael was beside himself with surprise and took several seconds to find his voice. Once found, his squeals and cries blended in with the crackle of the fire and the snap of each swat echoing around the room. Seth watched in shocked horror as he slowly realized his fate would likely be the same. Derrick's youngest page squirmed over his knee, fighting against each firm swat, refusing to give in to the much-deserved correction. Michael's cries grew more enthusiastic when Derrick switched to the small paddle, light and just the right amount of sting to set little boys dancing over his knee. Inevitably, Michael's defiant refusal to accept this correction dissolved in the face of the pain in his bottom, and promises to be good replaced denials of being naughty. Once the knight was satisfied that his youngest charge had learned the errors of his ways, Michael was placed on his feet, clothing reassembled, and small face gently washed. The tearful young man was sent to apologize to the seneschal and Evan for causing so much trouble, muttering his regret through stifled sobs. Jared nodded solemnly at the apology and smiled to himself as Michael left the study, nursing his sore bottom and sore pride. There was something very satisfying about seeing justice done to overly mischievous little boys.
Derrick locked onto Seth with his eyes, obviously commanding the boy to approach him. To everyone's surprise, Seth met Derrick's gaze and shook his head firmly "no", refusing to accept his punishment. Richard placed a supportive arm around Blaine's shoulder as if to encourage him not to follow the example when his turn came. Derrick had no patience for such nonsense this evening and hauled Seth to the chair without so much as an encouraging nod to accept the consequences of his actions. The boy responded in kind and struggled hard against Derrick's grip, crying before a single swat fell. Richard watched the spectacle with wide eyes, embarrassed for Seth and ashamed of himself. He knew they all deserved the punishments they were getting, and it was an unspoken rule of the household that a man took the lumps he had earned. Derrick lowered Seth's trews and pulled the struggling boy over his knee, immediately applying paddle to bottom. There were times that small comforts given during a punishment had to be overlooked in favor of making sure the message was well delivered. There was no supportive arm around the small waist- only unyielding restraint. No gentle pats on the back or bared bottom before the spanking began. There were no words of encouragement or even a reprimand to accompany the swats. There was just the even and determined rhythm of the swats patiently wearing away the resistance of a similarly determined young boy.
Seth struggled and sobbed against the paddle, screaming with every swat and crying out against his perceived unfairness of the situation. Richard's face burned with shame at the site and he silently urged Seth to settle down and take what he had coming. Derrick would certainly never tire from his chore before Seth exhausted himself, and fighting so hard against the punishment only assured a more severe sentence. Derrick studied the small buttocks as he turned it from winter white to pounding red. As soon as Seth began to show signs of giving in to the spanking, Derrick paused to gently rub the sobbing boy's back, whispering to him quietly as if the softness of his voice would lend calm to the struggling child. A ribbon of tears, saliva and mucous dribbled onto the rug while Seth cried himself out, Derrick measuring the effects of the correction given while he counseled the boy quietly.
While Seth certainly gave the impression that the battle was over and the lesson learned, the struggle continued inside his own head. He wanted to give in and apologize for how he behaved, but it infuriated him to be punished in front of witnesses- especially the snobbish seneschal who seemed to always look for fault in the boys who lodged at Gryphon's Leap. As such inward battles often go with the young, the angry impulse won out over the more reasoned one, and Seth unleashed a new fit of temper, rejecting the need to be punished, voicing his very strong objections to this most untenable situation. Derrick's response was entirely predictable, planting a hard slap to Seth's tender bottom with the thick strap. The old, well used and oiled strap was made from two layers of saddle leather and a single swat from it has set more bottoms on fire than could be counted. It was a harsh implement and generally reserved for punishing the older boys who could better tolerate the pain inflicted. Seth jerked at the impact of the strap, never having felt its touch before. Before he could form a cry from the blow, Derrick delivered three more swats to the upturned bottom, and the battle was truly won this time. Seth collapsed in a heap over his knight's knee, sobbing his apologies and begging forgiveness.
The knight continued to whisper to the child, rubbing his back, his fingers through the fine downy hair, patting a shaking shoulder. Seth was, all in all, an even-tempered child, but spirited beyond measure. Trying to corral that spirit without breaking it was a delicate process, and one the pair engaged in on a regular basis. Derrick optimistically estimated that Seth would spend the better part of a year standing at the dinner table and sleeping on his stomach. Hopefully, the end result would be a well-disciplined and fierce warrior. Knight helped shaking page to his feet and wiped the red face with a handkerchief. Trews gently replaced, shirt smoothed, and contrite little boy sent to offer his apologies to the two witnesses to his fate, Seth left Blaine and Richard to face their master next. Instead of immediately taking Blaine to task, Derrick sent the two boys to face empty corners to give himself a few moments to collect his thoughts. To his great relief, both boys did as they were told without protest or even the most subtle glance of defiance. Perhaps the last leg of this marathon would be more productive than the previous one. Derrick allowed himself a long drink of mulled wine warming by the fire and a good long stretch before resuming his seat.
"Blaine." The word spoken startled the boy and started his knees quivering again.
"Yes, sir?" Derrick smiled to himself. Not a trace of anger or defiance in the reply. Perhaps there was hope this night would end well after all.
"Are you prepared to accept your punishment?" Tears pricked at Blaine's eyes at the question. He so hated questions with no correct answer. No matter what he said, the outcome was going to be awful. Inside, he wanted to fight and scream and protest the way Seth did. No one meant to cause so much trouble while Derrick was away. Things just got out of hand. On the other hand though, Seth's reaction was uncomfortable and embarrassing to watch. Blaine did not want to make a spectacle of himself, but he surely did not want a blistered bottom either.
"Yes, sir." Blaine's voice cracked with his reply and he bit his lip against how small his voice sounded even in his own ears.
"Both of you, come here." Blaine and Richard approached their knight, both trying hard to be brave and strong, both mostly succeeding if their knees would just stop shaking. Derrick rested a firm hand on each boy's shoulder and looked them long and hard in the eye. A quiet but pointed reminder of the circumstances that brought them here produced downturned heads and renewed sniffles from both boys. Richard could not help himself any longer and threw himself into Derrick's arms, sniffing back his own tears and making as genuine an apology as he knew how. Blaine followed immediately afterward, and Derrick found his arms and lap full of contrition and remorse.
None of the three had any delusions that the display of tears and apologies would defer the coming punishment. There was no question that what was earned would be paid in full. All of them though, could proceed from here with a sincere wish to make amends and set all to right again. There would be no more battles of will today. After a few more words of apology and encouragement, both boys gathered themselves and went to Jared and Evan, expressing their regrets over their mischief of the past weeks. Evan sighed in deep relief and ruffled their hair with fond affection. Jared looked vexed, as if anyone believed this was the end of it. He was the only one in the room who did not understand that apologies freely given and punishment willingly accepted was the surest way to healing and growth in this room. Before Jared could voice his growing concern that the two before him were about to be let off the hook, Blaine took his place before Derrick, loosening his trews and letting them fall to his knees. His underclothes quickly followed, leaving bottom and thighs bare to receive their due. Derrick assisted the boy over his knee and picked up the sharp little paddle, rubbing it gently against the proffered buttocks. He wrapped his arm firmly around Blaine's waist, offering as much support as restraint, and set himself to the task at hand, peppering the exposed bottom with sharp stingy slaps of the paddle.
Blaine breathed out at each swat, trying to absorb the growing pain and not struggle against the punishment. Even if his brain wanted to submit to the discipline being so liberally applied to his posterior, his bottom was not quite so cooperative. He jerked and jumped as the spanking increased in intensity and soon had hot tears brimming from his eyes. Jerks and twitches soon turned to kicking and struggling in earnest as the swats grew harder still, each one leaving an angry red blotch in it's wake. When Blaine was reduced to deep sobs, Derrick finished the lesson with five swats of the nasty heavy strap, leaving his young charge gasping and heaving out his tears. Derrick gently patted the red-hot bottom wriggling over his knee, and rubbed tension out of the shaking shoulders. As much as Blaine hated being spanked, these small gestures of forgiveness and comfort made him feel closer to Derrick than to anyone else in the world, and he knew all would be well again very soon. He sniffed back his last few tears and rubbed his eyes as Derrick lifted him up and wiped his face with a soft cloth. The ritual of replacing clothing and fluffing up wounded pride was finished, final apologies made, and Blaine made his way back to his chambers, much relieved that his part of the ordeal was over.
Richard sighed heavily, knowing there was nothing left for him to do but to bend over and take his licks. His stomach ached with fear and with his own regrets at how things had gone while Derrick was away. He felt bad about the situation from the very beginning, but could not bring himself to reign his own behavior in with so many of the other squires and pages in the household doing the same thing. Derrick had always said that good judgment comes from making bad decisions. By Richard's reckoning, his own judgment should be about the best in the kingdom before he managed to make it to thirteen. He stood before his knight, eyes full of regret, trying to find words to voice his what he was feeling and knowing there were none that were adequate. Derrick gripped his shoulder in encouragement, and Richard felt his hands move almost involuntarily to loosen his own trews.
The youngest squire of Derrick's household found himself taking in the same view of the carpet beneath Derrick's chair as the previous three had. He mused oddly to himself over the glistening puddles and drips of tears in the rug and wondered if he could avoid making his own contribution to the sogginess. The first stroke of the heavy strap immediately chased the mere idea of not crying out of his head as his bottom was immediately set on fire and tears sprang to his eyes. Richard felt a mix of many emotions flare up inside his head. Fear, of course, regret, perhaps some anger at being in this situation, but also a strange sense of pride. This was the first time Derrick began a punishment with the dreaded strap. Richard had not felt that long and heavy strip of leather on more than a few other occasions, and never for more than a few swats. He felt as if he had graduated to some secret order, it almost a privilege to be punished with it. A privilege Richard soon decided he could do very well without. Each stroke slammed into his bared bottom with so much force that the pain shot throughout his body. After only a few swats, he felt as if he were on fire from head to toe. He felt Derricks' grip around his waist tighten as the struggling began, and Richard was soon bawling as if he were four instead of twelve, flailing with all his might against the strap. Richard swore he remembered John and Conal each take more than one hard whipping with this strap without more than jerking with the blows, and could not even imagine being able to ever do the same. The roar of pain in his head drowned out his own cries as they echoed around the room, and two dozen well delivered swats left him a sobbing and exhausted young man.
The whipping was over long before it registered in Richard's mind that there was no new pain, and he sunk into the firm knees supporting his body, crying out every last bit of guilt he had left for his offenses. Derrick leaned over the boy, rubbing shoulders and whispering to him, reminding him of how proud he is of him, how determined and how brave he is, how certain the knight is that this lesson has been well and sincerely learned and all has been forgiven. Richard drank up the words as if they would replace the river of tears he cried away, letting the quite voice soothe his conscience and his pride. Derrick lifted Richard to his feet, steadying the boy while he found his balance, and the all too familiar ritual of reparation began. With face washed, nose blown, clothes replaced and apologies made, the last of Derrick's wayward boys made his way back to his chambers to spend the rest of the evening soothing his seared bottom.
Derrick and Jared exchanged a few last words, knight apologizing to his most senior administrator for the trouble caused but also encouraging a little more tolerance for boyish mischief. Jared left to join the rest of the household at supper, certain to share his reports of how naughty boys are dealt with by the stern knight. Derrick's table would be eerily empty for this meal, all of his charges confined to their rooms, and Derrick tending to the final rituals that would finish the healing so keenly needed by each of the boys.
Evan stared into the fire, reflecting on the six punishments he witnessed today and how they came about. He started when Derrick slapped his back in silent relief that this episode was drawing to an end. Derrick knew though that this whole ordeal has weighed heavily on Evan, and his once squire, now knight, would need some comforting of his own before this could be truly put to rest. Derrick took his seat near the fire and quietly watched Evan examine the flames. It never failed. Every single boy he ever trained seemed to take to this study as a place of refuge, of sanctuary, and as the one place safest of all to discuss their most troubling thoughts. Often, secrets or confessions were whispered while being tucked between warm sheets at night, but this room seemed to draw such things out with particular solemnity. The ever present fire warded off continuous cold and damp of the room and lent a certain strength and comfort to the atmosphere. The squeak of the leather upholstery, the scent of the books and scrolls stacked on shelves lining the walls, the familiarity of the cupboard that hid away implements of punishment, the shadow of the whipping horse tucked away in the corner, all blended together to make this a remarkable place. This was a room of soul searching, growth, unspoken camaraderie and unconditional acceptance. There were no errors that could not be fixed in this room. There were no feeble questions or lessons that could not be learned. There were no discussions that could not be had, one man to another. Those discussions all seemed to start the same way. Settling into overstuffed chairs, a few sips of something warm and soothing, quiet thought while watching the fire dance in the large hearth, silent debate over who would speak first.
It was a dance that Evan knew very well from one point of view, and was learning it from the other as well. He had been Derrick's squire for most of his youth, and had grown to love and respect the man as a father as well as feudal lord. Once knighted, Evan was free to leave Gryphon's Leap and begin to build his own household as most other newly made knights chose to do. The decision to stay and remain in direct service to Derrick was a complicated one, but not one Evan had yet grown to regret. Evan would be in fealty to Derrick regardless of whether he took up residence in another manor in the countryside, merely one of the knights promised in service to the king by Derrick as part of his obligation to the crown. There would be plenty of time later to establish his own household. For now, this was where Evan belonged, and he was in no rush to leave Derrick's direct tutelage. Knight or not, there was much left for Evan to learn and he was not willing to leave his mentor quite yet.
"I'm not a child." Evan stated in a loud whisper, startling himself that he actually spoke the words out loud. Derrick looked thoughtfully at the man sitting across from him, relieved that some things simply took a predictable path. He knew the struggle Evan was facing and was confident it would be successfully mastered in time. During that time though, finding the balance of being a leader in his own right while still in his master's house would be difficult. A man who still felt like a boy, a knight who still felt remarkably like an errant squire, a mentor to his own charges and still needing to be mentored, the ebb and flow of the desire to grow and hold onto the past at the same time was a nearly impossible battle to win without strife and the occasional blunder.
"No. But it feels that way sometimes, doesn't it." Derrick's response was a statement of fact and not a question. His strong resonating voice startled Evan further still, almost surprised that the other man was still in the room. Evan took a deep breath and sat up in his chair to look at Derrick.
"I just don't understand. When I see you with the boys, I get tied up in a huge knot. I still want that kind of bond with you. That deep sense of belonging and care that I always had as your squire. But I want to be able to give that same thing to my squire. I can't seem to do both." Derrick nodded knowingly, encouraging Evan to continue.
"I don't understand why I still feel like I need the same things I needed from you when I was your squire. I thought once I was knighted, things would be different. How can I be a good knight to my squire when I am still feeling like I am not through being your squire?" Evan rubbed the sleeve of his tunic over his eyes and stared at the fire again, looking for answers that weren't in the flames.
"Evan." Derrick tapped the younger knight's knee with the palm of his hand and waited until Evan looked at him before continuing.
"When you train your squire out in the heat of the day, do you make sure he has water to drink?" Evan snorted at the question and waved his hand as if to dismiss it unanswered until Derrick restated the question.
"Yes, of course." Knowing his knight, Evan assumed there would be some point to this sooner or later.
"Do you get thirsty when you are training with him?" Yes, sooner or later this will make some sense.
"Yes. Derrick, what is the point of this?" The older knight smiled at Evan's impatience. He never was very tolerant of this sort of teaching method.
"The point is, we all get thirsty, and we all need our thirst quenched. You can drink without leaving your squire thirsty. Just because you are a knight does not mean you no longer need that tie to your mentor. I was squire to the king's uncle. I still seek him out for advice and counsel when I need it. He still scolds me when I need it. I suspect you will always look to me in the same way, and your squire will to you even when he has squires of his own. You and I are part of a long tradition of mentoring and being mentored that has not changed for centuries. You need it because it is what has made you who you are. There is no flaw in that Evan." Tears welled up in the younger knight's eyes, and he shook his head slowly.
"That's.... not.... exactly what I.... mean, sir." Evan searched for the right words and found himself getting irritated that they were not readily available. Derrick responded with kind silence, with his very familiar "then tell me what you did mean" expression dancing in his eyes.
"It's just that.... I mean.... when I was your squire, I knew where I stood. I mean.... I knew I could talk to you about anything, and I knew if I made a mistake, you would correct me and life would go on. Things were clear then. They aren't now." Derrick nodded, trying to let this conversation take its course without forcing the issue.
"I feel awful, sir." Evan dropped his eyes, feeling all the world like he was 12 again and not 19 years old, and wishing for all the world that he could be 12 again in fact, even if for a few minutes.
"I didn't exercise the kind of leadership while you were gone that I should have and that you have taught me. If I had done my job better, most of the mischief those boys caused would not have happened." Evan stood and paced around before the fire, wondering if he had the nerve to say what he really felt. It would not have been the first time in his life he asked to be punished for wrongdoing. But he is not a young squire trying to atone for misdeeds anymore.
"I am glad John and Conal came forward with their mistakes before you had to bring it up with them. I would have done the same thing if I were in their shoes, I think." Derrick nodded at the truth of the statement and continued to listen patiently.
"But now, I can't. I was as wrong as they were sir. For all that I am older, my behavior was not any better than theirs was, relatively speaking, and I deserve every bit as much to be disciplined as they did. But I am not a child anymore." Evan wondered at what point Derrick was going to laugh him off the face of the earth or make some comment that would broil up the shame Evan was trying to hide about having such feelings. He leaned against the back of Derrick's chair, watching for just such a response, knowing it would not come. Derrick was a strict man, but he was not cruel.
"No, you are not a child. Which brings us back to the beginning of this conversation, Evan. What does that matter in this situation?" Derrick turned in his chair to face his protégé, encouraging him to make the point he was needing to make. Evan guffawed at Derrick's question, trying to chase the whole notion from his mind, only shrugging in response.
"Evan, you are my sworn vassal. I am your feudal lord. I am responsible for your welfare, and am responsible for correcting your behavior at anytime it is needed. That you are a knight does not free you from being corrected when it is needed. How I discipline you will change over time, as it has throughout your youth." Derrick poked Evan's arm with a strong finger as if it would make his point clearer.
"But that does not mean you are no longer accountable to me for your actions." Tears welled up in Evan's eyes, embarrassment written over every inch of his drawn face. Derrick took him by the arm and steered him around to the front of his chair, gesturing for him to sit down. Evan slid over the soft leather of the chair arm and slumped onto the seat, feeling more miserable by the moment. He slapped the chair cushion hard, vexed by his growing frustration, beside himself with his inability to say what was so well defined in his mind.
"But it isn't the same thing, sir." He replied in a soft whisper. Derrick begged the question with a look, urging Evan to continue.
"I mean.... I.... sometimes I.... just want.... to be small again." The young knight's face flushed with the statement, though Derrick's calm acceptance of the words seemed to make saying them a bit easier. The older knight nodded understanding, remembering his own turbulent transition to adulthood.
"What do you need, Evan?" Evan gasped at the starkness of the question, not sure how to respond. His gaze met Derrick's and the two remained silent for several heartbeats. Slowly, deliberately, Evan rose from his chair, crossed the small space to Derrick's side, and knelt beside his knight's chair. He wrapped his arms around the familiar chest and buried his face in the rough wool of Derrick's tunic. Derrick returned the embrace, offering support as he felt Evan give in to the tears he had been trying so hard to hold back. Finally, the depth of Evan's own feelings of guilt, the extent of his remorse and sense of failure about how badly things got out of hand while Derrick was away came out in no uncertain terms.
"What I need," Evan's voice was muffled in Derrick's tunic. "Is to be disciplined the same way you disciplined them. I was at fault at least as much as they were." Evan flushed deeply at the statement and tried to pull away from Derrick's gaze without success. Derrick smiled softly and cupped Evan's chin in the palm of his hand, forcing the young man to look at him.
"There now. Was that so hard after all?" Derrick's voice was completely serious, or Evan would have bet he was being made fun of. Very much to his surprise, Derrick not only understood the intensity of his feelings, the strange sense of need and the furious confusion over trying to be an adult and needing to be treated like a child. Even if just for a moment. Derrick chuckled softly and related stories from his own youth, just after he was knighted and the long talks he had with his own knight thereafter. He related in great detail offenses committed that resulted in the very strap Derrick used on his own charges tonight being used to reform his own behavior from time to time, discretely, in the privacy of his knight's study, well into the third year of Derrick's own knighthood.
"Evan, I know you erred in this situation. I had hoped that witnessing the resulting punishments would have served as sufficient penalty. I don't want to have to take that strap to you because of this. However," Derrick cupped the falling chin again, again forcing eye contact. "If a stronger lesson is needed here, and that seems to be so, then it can certainly be provided." Evan thought his heart would surly stop beating and had to force himself to breathe as he met Derrick's firm gaze. It took all the energy he had to give a small nod, acknowledging Derrick's suspicion.
Without another word, Evan stood and allowed himself to be directed to the large ottoman resting in front of Derrick's chair as the older knight took his place in the seat. Buttocks and thighs were once again bared, and Evan guided over Derrick's knee, bare skin sliding across the course wool of Derrick's trews and the supple, spicy scented leather of the ottoman. Evan could not remember the last time he was whipped, though the memories of dozens of past punishments swam in his head. The looming sense of vulnerability that was quickly swallowing him was both a dreaded and welcomed feeling. Evan lifted his buttocks slightly, silent acceptance of whatever punishment his knight saw fit to impose. Derrick wrapped a strong arm around Evan's hips and gently patted the exposed buttocks with the heavy strap. Evan felt a soft breeze as the strap was lifted away and he inhaled, waiting for the first swat to land, feeling if just for a moment that he had regained his sense of balance in the world.