A Knight's Duty


by Trayth <Trayth@hotmail.com>

A Knight's Duty

A knock sounded sharply at the door, and the knight laid down his quill.

"Come!" His command echoed through the damp room of the manor house. The door swung open, and Sir Derrick's senior squire entered the room. John approached the desk where his knight and mentor worked.

"I'm sorry for interrupting you, sir. Should I come at another time?" John asked, respect filled his voice. Derrick leaned back in his chair and studied his squire's face. Snow gleamed over the boy's shoulders and John shivered, though Derrick was not sure it was from the cold.

"No, John. I could use a break. I do need to finish this notation though. Go warm yourself and have something hot to drink while I finish here." Derrick gestured with his chin toward the fireplace.

The warm glow of the fire did not quite warm the room, so John added more wood and stirred up a comfortable blaze. He removed his cloak and after ladling some of the cider warming on the hearth into two mugs, gingerly sat on one of the two large stuffed chairs before the fire. He offered Sir Derrick the second mug as the knight approached the fire, stretching the kinks out of his neck and back. Derrick sat down and propped his stocking clad feet up on a stool, while John sat nervously on the edge of his chair. The squire mused at his own anxiety and drew in a deep breath. He slowly and deliberately removed his boots, allowing his feet to burrow into the thick rug, and forced himself to ease back into the chair.

The warmth of the fire felt good after the morning's events, and he felt himself relax a bit. The two sat quietly, sipping cider and listening to the crackle of the fire, each waiting for the other to speak first. John closed his eyes and took in the comfort this room always brought him. He loved the roar of a warm fire, the scent of the books in cases lining the walls, the gentle yet commanding presence of the man he loved and respected as a father. They had many discussions in this room, before this fireplace. About weapons and horses, about women, about life, about being a knight, about being a man. This is the room where John asked his questions, expressed his fears and doubts, where his knight scolded, challenged, and taught him many lessons not easily learned with a sword in hand.

Firelight danced over the stone walls while John willed himself courage he was not sure he had. Derrick moved to the fireplace and refilled his mug, offering more cider to his squire. John shook his head and gazed at his hands in his lap. Derrick sat on the footstool in front of his squire, and John started at the sudden closeness. He looked at his knight, his eyes full of apprehension that Derrick surely sensed.

"What is it John?" The knight's voice was quiet and firm. John started to shake his head, but Derrick stopped him with the wag of a finger.

"I know that look, and I know you would not have asked to see me when you should be at your studies if it were not important." John felt tears stinging at his eyes, and he dropped his gaze to stare at his hands once more. Derrick raised the boy's chin with callused fingers, demanding a response.

"Hmmm?" Derrick's gaze was strong and it would have taken a much more stout heart than John had at the moment to break eye contact.

"S-sir, I . . ." John nearly choked from his throat being so tight. He took a long draw of the warm cider and tried again.

"There's something I need to talk to you about, sir. I . . . uh . . ." John again intensely examined his hands folded in his lap, searching for the words he new had to be in there somewhere. Derrick sat back patiently, waiting for his squire to continue. When the words did not come, he patted the young man's knee and moved back to his own chair.

"John." His voice remained calm but commanding.

"Yes, sir?" John's voice quavered.

"I can't help you if you can't tell me what the problem is." John had to try hard not to laugh out loud. Help him? All the help the young squire expected this afternoon would result in him sleeping on his stomach for a week.

"I'm sorry, sir. I just don't know where to start. I've done something wrong and know I need to confess it to you, but . . . I . . . I mean . . . the words just aren't there." Derrick sat back in his chair and exhaled sharply. He scolded the boy with his eyes and John squirmed uncomfortably.

"You are surely not trying to tell me you are afraid of being justly punished." The knight allowed just a hint of anger to be carried in his words.

"No . . . no, sir. It isn't that." John sat forward a bit and met his knight's eyes unflinching.

"I'm not afraid of being punished, sir, though I'm not looking forward to it. I deserve it, and I know you will be fair with me." He leaned back into the chair trying not entirely successfully to choke back a sob.

"I'm afraid of disappointing you, which I am certain you will be. I am very ashamed of myself, and it is not going to be easy to tell you about what I've done." A tear finally escaped and ran down John's cheek. He brushed it away impatiently while Derrick once again moved to the footstool in front of his squire's chair. He rested his hand on the young man's knee, offering courage and support.

"John, you are a worthy student and an honorable young man. I am proud to have you as my squire. Whatever you have done, we will deal with. If you need to be disciplined, you will be. But whatever you have done can not be so bad as to fear I will think anything less of you." John could not meet his gaze, staring only at his tightly clasped hands.

"But you will, sir." John barely whispered.

"You will think very badly of me, and be ashamed to call me your squire." Another tear found it's way down his cheek. This time Derrick reached over and gently wiped it from the boy's face, and the gesture drew John into a fatherly embrace. The squire allowed himself a few more tears as he felt himself enveloped in Sir Derrick's arms.

"That's not the way this works in my household John. Don't you know that by now?" Derrick said softly, caressing the back of the boy's neck.

"Young men make mistakes. Sometimes very serious ones. It is my job to teach you the ways of knighthood. I can not expect you to grow to such demands without error. What is important is that you accept the consequences of the error and learn from it. If you hide it or try to evade responsibility for it- those are what will disappoint me." He pulled the boy away from his chest and their eyes met.

"I expect you to be honest with me when you make a mistake, so it can be properly corrected. Come now, John. What have you done that has you in this state?" John sat back in his chair and sniffed, dragging the sleeve of his tunic over his nose.

"Sir, earlier today, Conal and Blaine and I went to the lake. I know you told us to stay away from it in winter, but we wanted to see how the water has frozen. Blaine walked out onto the ice and it cracked. He fell into the lake and nearly got pulled under the ice before we could get him out again. Conal and I both ended up in the water trying to rescue him." John saw the growing concern on Derrick's face and quickly added, "But we're all ok. I took Conal and Blaine to see Cook. She put us all to soak in hot baths. After we thawed out, she put us to bed, but I couldn't sleep thinking about what could have happened. That's when I asked to speak with you this afternoon." Derrick tried to mask his reaction as the story developed, angry to hear that the boys pulled such a foolish stunt.

"It was my fault, sir. I should have told them not to go. I went with them though, knowing we were disobeying you. Blaine could have been drowned and all of us were frozen half to death." John bowed his head in shame as another tear streaked down his cheek.

"I'm very sorry, sir. For disobeying you and for doing something so stupid and dangerous. I don't know what I was thinking." Derrick sat for several long heartbeats, taking in all that John had said. The idea of three young boys coming to a painful end under the ice of the frozen lake made him shudder. He reached over and felt John's forehead.

"Are you alright now?" His eyes full of concern. John shivered and nodded his head.

"Yes, sir. I feel like I may never be warm again, but I'm fine. I'm mostly worried about Blaine. He was in the water the longest. We had a very difficult time getting him out. The ice just kept cracking and we'd fall through it every time we came close to pulling him out. Fortunately, he fell in fairly close to shore." Derrick could not decide whether he wanted to tuck his senior squire back into bed between warmed sheets, or strangle him.

"Do you think Conal and Blaine will be alright, sir?" John's voice cracked. Derrick frowned and began pulling on his discarded boots. He patted John on the shoulder, trying to reassure him.

"I am going to go check on them right now." He frowned again. "John, when I restrict you from something I generally have a good reason. I don't expect you to disobey me just because you don't know or understand the reason behind the rule. I'm very angry with you for not being more responsible." John's heart ached at the reprimand, but he could not deny the truth in it. He nodded miserably.

"I understand, sir. It won't happen again! May... may I come with you to check on them?" Derrick shook his head, glaring at John firmly.

"I think it would be best if you remain here. I also think you should re-acquaint yourself with the horse. I expect you to be prepared for a whipping when I get back. I know three young men who are going to be very warm this evening." Derrick stood and made his way to the door. He gestured towards the whipping horse, tucked away in a corner, and left his squire to contemplate his fate.

John felt fresh tears stinging his eyes as he gazed over at the horse. He could not count the number of times he has been taught a sharp lesson while bent over the padded frame, and was not looking forward to another one. He trudged over the apparatus and pulled it out to the open floor. A cupboard in the corner held several implements used to administer corporal punishment. John opened it remorsefully and removed a heavy leather strap, weighing it in his hands. Next, he took a finely polished long and narrow paddle that felt smooth and warm in his hand. Lastly, a small, brine filled barrel held several switches and birches. John gazed into the brine and morbidly wondered what the servants thought about while cutting the rods that are kept in this barrel. Surely they knew what they were used for. He carefully selected a birch made of many thin and whippy switches and shook the brine off the bundle. He laid the instruments of his impending correction out on a small table and wiped away another stray tear.

John returned to the warmth of the fire and unlaced his trousers, sliding the wool down his shivering legs. His drawers and stockings followed, the clothing folded and placed neatly on a stool. He shivered all the more being half-naked, and he moved closer to the fire, listening for Sir Derrick's return. He rubbed his bared buttocks gently, thinking how sore he was going to be before this was over. A heavy door swung open then shut again, and booted footsteps approached the study. John went to the horse and bent over the padded cross beam, forcing his buttocks out to receive his punishment. Derrick opened the study door and entered silently, followed by Conal and Blaine. Conal gasped when he saw John prepared for a whipping, knowing his own fate would be the same. The youngest boy burst into tears at the sight and tried to dart out the door. Derrick closed the door and bolted it shut, ushering the boys to the horse. He patted John's buttocks and quietly told him to get up.

"All of you go stand by the fire and warm up some more." As they obeyed, Derrick picked up the horse and moved it to the rug before the fire. He ordered the boys to sit down, and handed John his cloak to wrap up in. The three looked as if their best horse had just died, and Blaine continued to cry as if he had already been soundly thrashed.

"I don't know what the three of you were thinking when you went to the lake." Derrick began scolding them sternly. The two younger boys hung their heads, tears falling from Blaine's cheeks. John braced himself against the coming reprimand and forced himself to meet the angry eyes of his knight.

"All three of you could have been killed. I can not even begin to tell you how angry I am with you." He pinned John with his glare and noted with pride that the boy did not flinch or pull away from his words. John nodded slightly, agreeing with the stupidity of their actions.

"Did any of you not understand that you were not allowed to go to the lake during winter?" The older boys shook their heads and Blaine whimpered. John felt himself getting angry with the boy, then reminded himself that he was only eight and probably very frightened.

"When I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed. Since you decided to go against my instructions, you will all be disciplined." Blaine could not hold himself back any longer and jumped off of the stool he was sitting on.

"But siiiir! We didn't understand why we couldn't go to the lake! If we would have known it was dangerous we never would have gone! It's not fair to punish us!" Blaine stomped his foot on the rug and crossed his arms in front of him, defying his knight. Conal looked stunned, wondering what was going to happen next. It was of no surprise that Derrick reached over and took Blaine by the arm. He shook the boy slightly and Blaine melted before everyone's eyes. "That you did not know the reason for my instructions is irrelevant young man. When I give you an order I expect it to be obeyed whether you agree with it or understand the reasoning behind it or not." Blaine stared up at the angry knight and nodded slowly.

"Y-yes, sir! I'm sorry!" the little boy cried piteously.

"Since you seem to think this adventure was such a grand idea, you may be the first to be punished." Derrick pulled the young boy toward him, and Blaine began crying heartily.

"Noooo! Oh sir I'm sorry! Please not the horse!" Derrick shook his head and began untying the boy's trousers. He pulled them down to bare buttocks and thighs, and Blaine continued to struggle.

"Oh please sir! Don't whip me! I won't ever go to the lake again! Please sir!" Derrick pulled Blaine over his lap and began spanking him very hard. He targeted the most tender area of where thigh meets buttocks, and laid in nearly twenty swats to the struggling boy's bottom before Blaine began to calm down and accept his fate.

Derrick stopped spanking the youngest boy for a few moments while the child cried. The knight took the paddle from the table and resumed the punishment, making Blaine squeal all the more. After Blaine's bottom began to glow red, Derrick added several extra sharp swats to the undercurve of the small boy's bottom. Derrick lifted the boy up off of his lap, and Blaine's hands shot to his blazing buttocks. Derrick forced the young boy to look at him, angry eyes meeting tears.

"Blaine, what you did was foolish and dangerous. You are old enough to know better, and old enough to take the consequences!" Blaine bawled louder at his knight's words. Derrick glared at Conal and John while he replaced the young boy's drawers and trousers.

"Either one of you could have stopped this entire episode before it even began. I expect you to look after the young pages of this household. Blaine made his own choices in this matter, but he is still a young boy. You two failed in your responsibility to protect him, and both of you share the blame for the spanking he just got. Rest assured your own punishments will not be so mild." Conal and John paled at his words and glanced at each other. John swallowed hard and nodded.

"We understand, sir!" At John's words, Blaine screeched out his pain and anger, and stomped his feet.

"This is all your fault! I hate you and I'm never going to talk to you ever again!" Derrick swatted the boy's bottom hard and admonished the outburst. He reminded the child that he was at fault as much as the others and deserved his own punishment. Blaine was not ready to listen and Derrick dismissed the boy to return to his room, instructing him to go back to bed. He wanted to stay and watch Conal and John get theirs, but Derrick would not allow it. Blaine sulked, stomped, and bawled as he made his way back to his chamber, massaging his battered bottom.

The angry knight turned his gaze on the two squires sitting before him. He pointed at Conal and crooked his finger at him, gesturing the boy to come to him. Conal rose, not sure that his legs would support him. He had not been whipped more than a few times in his life, and dreaded what was to come. Derrick went to the table and picked up the heavy strap. He tried the strap against his own thigh, and Conal jumped.

"While you are being punished, I suggest you think about what you did and whether the adventure was worth what it cost you. Conal, please remove your boots, trousers, and drawers." As Conal moved to obey he felt an incredible urge to either beg for mercy or run from the room. He looked at John who could only offer support with his will. The middle boy continued to remove his clothing, folding each item neatly and placing them next to John's. He approached the horse and mounted it, leaning far over and grasping handles on the other side. He shifted around to settle himself in and took a deep breath. Derrick ordered him to spread his legs far apart, and the squire obeyed. The position made his vulnerability all too clear. This was going to be a very harsh punishment.

Derrick stood behind Conal, adjusting his position here and there until the boy's buttocks were exactly where Derrick wanted them to be. He raised the heavy strap high over head and brought it crashing down on the upturned cheeks. Conal could not help but cry out at the sudden and intense pain. The strap fell again and again, leaving a trail of fire in its path. Conal moaned and cried out at each blow, but fought to maintain his position. John flinched as he saw each blow land, and the pit of fear in his stomach grew. After 35 swats with the strap, Derrick stood back and let Conal cry. The squire sobbed out his regret as tears splashed onto the carpet below.

After a few minutes break, Derrick picked up the birch and swished it through the air. Conal tried to clench his buttocks at the sound, but the severity of his position would not allow his muscles to contract. Derrick tapped the bared buttocks with the birch.

"Well Conal? Was your little swim in the lake worth all of this?" SWISH SNAP! The birch left a dozen small welts on already blazing skin.

"AUGH! NO! Oh NO SIR!" SWISH SNAP! Another blow sent pain jolting through Conal's body. SWISH SNAP!

"Aug! Oh Sir! Please! I'm s-sorry!" Conal cried out, feeling as if one more swat would remove every trace of skin from his buttocks. THWIP!

"Are you going to obey my instructions from now on?" THWIP! The knight demanded angrily.

"OHH!!!! Aaahh! Oh yes, sir!!! I'm so very sorry! I..." SNAP!

"I won't disobey you again! OWWW!" Three more times the birch whistled through the air, igniting small fires all over the boy's buttocks. A final stroke aimed at the cleft between his buttocks left the boy sobbing over the horse, his buttocks heaving as he cried. Derrick helped him off the padded frame and held the boy close. He stroked his golden hair and whispered reassurances to him, giving the boy ample time to cry himself out. Conal pulled away from the embrace and wiped his eyes and nose on the sleeve of his tunic. He looked up and met affection and concern in Derrick's face.

"I am truly sorry sir! We didn't mean any harm by going to the lake, but I understand now why you didn't want us to go. And I understand why I should obey you even if it doesn't seem like an important thing." Conal wrapped his arms around the knight and felt himself engulfed in love and care.

"I accept your apology Conal. I want you to understand that I only punish you because I care about you and what happens to you. You could have died in that lake. Do you understand?" Derrick lifted Conal's chin.

"Yes, sir. I understand!" Tears continued to dribble down the boy's face, and Derrick wiped them away gently.

"Go get dressed now, and go back to your chamber. Sleep if you can, but at least rest and stay warm. I will come to see you after I have dealt with John and tucked Blaine in." Conal nodded and staggered to the fireplace. John wanted to melt into the carpet as he watched Conal dress stiffly, rubbing his welted buttocks. He looked miserably at Derrick, hoping to be let off by some miracle. Conal glanced at John as he closed the door, and nodded encouragement.

John was left alone with his knight. There would be no turning back now, and no hope for mercy. Derrick looked at John and glanced at the horse. Without a word, John stood and removed his cloak. He walked to the horse and took a deep breath before stepping onto the frame and laying over the thick padding. He spread his legs wide, bracing his knees against the frame and pulled himself over a bit further, leaving his bared buttocks and thighs easy targets for the strap and birch.

John was washed over with the sensation of his world becoming nothing more than bared buttocks and strap, every nerve in his body waiting for the coming pain. He did not need Derrick to tell him that his punishment was going to be even worse than what Conal bore. The first stroke of the strap snapped hard against his buttocks and the impact sounded throughout the room. John gritted his teeth and managed to not cry out. A second and third blow struck, leaving the boy gasping for breath.

"You are my senior squire John." SWAT!

"I expect you to look after the others." SWAT!

"And try to keep them out of trouble." SWAT! John cried out finally, tears streaking down his face to soak into the carpet below.

"I do not expect you to help them find it!" SWAT! SNAP! SWACK! The force of each blow made John gasp for breath and his legs and buttocks flinch. The strap rose and fell, each blow echoing around the room. John cried freely, willing himself to accept his punishment.

Derrick scolded as he whipped, each point punctuated with the strap crashing into his squire's buttocks. The knight nudged the boys knees farther apart, and John felt the cleft between his buttocks widen, exposing his anus and inner muscle of his cheeks to the angry strap. Derrick snapped several blows directly into this very sensitive area, and John was blinded with his own tears. After administering a full 50 strokes to the boy's crimson bottom, Derrick shifted the target of the strap to John's thighs. He delivered six sharp swats to the top of each leg, sending John diving into a world of pain. The young man bucked and rocked at each blow, yelling at the top of his lungs as the strap seared his thighs. He heard Derrick drop the strap on the nearby table, and wailed until he thought he would die from the effort. The knight gave his very punished squire several minutes to cry himself out then picked up the birch rod.

Derrick repositioned the squire to prepare him for the birch, ensuring knees were wide apart, buttocks fully open and exposed. John gasped when he figured out what was coming next, but no preparation could steel him for the blow. The birch rod cut into his aching posterior, bending and flexing to reach into crevice and wrap around hip and thigh. John yelled huskily at the blow, grasping the horse with all his might. Fourteen more blows fell across his buttocks, leaving tiny bruises and welts where each leaf bud fell. Derrick paused for a moment and rubbed his hand over John's buttocks. He felt each welt blending with another, and the heat rising from the battered flesh, even creating some steam in the coolness of the room.

Derrick raised the birch again, announcing "Five more John," though the sobbing squire didn't hear him. The birch fell at a verticle angle, each switch finding its way between John's bottom cheeks five agonizing times. John sagged over the horse, bawling his heart out over his poor judgement earlier that day, regretting but not resenting the punishment rained down on his bare posterior. After several minutes, Derrick assisted John off the horse, and led him to an area directly in front of the fire. John collapsed into the knight's arms, sobbing. Derrick held the crying boy, stroking his back, neck, and hair, assuring him that all was well between them. John cried himself out and made his apologies to Sir Derrick as if repeating the apology a hundred times would make it any more true or sincere. Derrick assisted the boy in dressing then held him close once more. He reiterated the boy's error of the day, his care for him, and dismissed John to his chambers.

John limped to his room painfully, glad that the most difficult part of his punishment was now over. He went to a corner of the dim room and knelt at a prayer bench while Sir Derrick looked in on the younger boys. John could not hear anything from down the hall, but knew the ritual well. After more than half an hour, he heard boot clad feet striking flagstone, and a brisk knock at his door. Derrick entered the room and sat on the high bed, calling John from the bench. John approached his knight obediently, drew down his pants and drawers, and allowed the man to assist John over the knight's knee. Derrick briefly rubbed the punished buttocks, examining it for any damage more severe than intended. After assuring himself that John would survive the ordeal, he boomed a final dozen swats to the bared flesh with his hard and callused hand. John jumped at each blow, knowing each one signaled the nearing end of a very harsh punishment. Tears flew from his eyes despite his efforts not to cry, and soon, the spanking was well and truly finished.

Derrick lifted the crying boy from his lap shook him firmly while scolding him. "John, if you ever do anything like this again, the punishment you received today will seem like a pleasant memory! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?" He accented each word with a sharp shake. John met his knight's eyes, only to find tears running down the man's face. John flung himself into the man's arms, and hugged him tight.

"I-I u-under-st-stand sir! I'm s-so s-s-sorry! I will never do anything so stupid and dangerous again!" The knight guided him to lie face down on the large bed. The sound of water being wrung from cloth, and the sudden cold of the soothing compress resting on John's aching buttocks marked the end of the punishment and the beginning of reconciliation. Derrick gently tended to the wounds inflicted by the whipping to ease bruising and pain later. After the cool towels were removed, he slathered a generous amount of a pungent and cool ointment all over the boy's backside. John whimpered at the contact, and tried to roll away, but Derrick's strong hand in the small of his back forced him to lie still while the numbing ointment began its work. Derrick massaged the salve all over the large muscle as well as between the cheeks, making John twitch and jerk. Derrick smiled to himself, memories of when he endured such a punishment at the hands of his own knight, knowing that it was a necessary part of raising a boy to knighthood.

After the ointment was liberally applied, John crawled between the sheets of his bed, exhausted and aching. Derrick stroked the hair away from his eyes, wiped tears away with a cool cloth, and soothed the young man's battered ego. John drifted off to sleep at the low sound of his knight's voice, knowing all was forgiven and the ordeal of the afternoon would be mostly forgotten, but the lesson burned into the squire's memory forever. John laughed to himself as he surrendered to sleep, wondering if a summer swim in the lake would ever appeal to him again.


More stories byTrayth