Fic: To Save His Soul 2
Title: To Save His Soul
Author: shana0809
Dedication: To liroa15 for being the most amazing beta, and lady_quark and melj1213 for the idea and encouragement.
Disclaimer: They do not belong to me. Also, not true. I made it all up.
Fandom: Football rpf
Pairing: Pedro Leon/Ricardo Carvalho
Rating: R for language and adult concepts, violence, religious themes, and dubious consent.
Word Count: 15 955
Summary: We all have choices. Sometimes, they’re just not one ones we want.
A.N: For the rpf_big_bang challenge.
-
Pedro watches the new Duke of Porto walk away. He should go and deliver the lord's message. Father Izecson doesn't need to wait for a man who's not coming. He's straightening the Chapel when Pedro enters, all the mourners having put things in a state of disarray.
Pedro can't help think Father Izecson is actually saddened by the passing of their former lord; it's understandable though. Father Izecson is a gentle soul. He doesn't like to watch God's children suffer, and despite the fact the former lord is no longer suffering, his loss still affects those who remain.
"Father?"
"How is the new Duke, Pedro? Of all of us, you see him the most."
"Quiet, Father. I think perhaps he finished mourning as he watched the illness kill his father. He's meeting with Lord Mourinho, but he requests you pray for his father's soul."
Father Izecson sighs deeply. "I'm beginning to fear it's his soul for which I should be praying."
"Father, he's a good, God fearing man! You know this to be so."
"I know that Satan makes the path to Hell appealing, and more than one good man has fallen victim to it. What about you, Pedro?"
"What do you mean, Father?"
"The late Duke was a very important part of your life. Surely you feel something at his passing."
"He wasn't a man with whom I ever had much to do, Father. He was my lord. I respected him, and I obeyed him, and that's all there was to it. It's the way of things. God's way."
"Still..."
"I know that as a Christian I should feel sadness for the loss of the life of any true believer, but he was ill, Father. He was in pain and lost to us. He's with our Lord now and at peace. I don't feel regret that he's gone, just at the way he passed."
"Pedro?"
"Yes, Father?"
"It's all right to admit to your emotions here. There's no one who will punish you for being less than a true man."
"I am a man now, Father. Childish things are to be left behind. The former Duke would want us to continue on and be as loyal to his son as we were to him. I will endeavour to do that."
"Pedro?"
"Father?"
"God sees into your soul. He knows when you're lying. Even when you're lying to yourself, He knows. You must admit to the unclean feelings I know are inside of you. God is merciful. He won't punish you if you've done nothing wrong. He'll save you."
"Father, I have no need to be saved. I have done nothing from which I need saving. I have nothing for which I need to repent. I have read the Holy Book, come to Mass, confessed, and been absolved."
"I'm not talking about actions, but about the wants and desire you harbour deep inside your soul. You stay awake at night, lying on your pallet, and thinking of Lord Ricardo. You want improper things."
"Forgive me, Father, but I don't understand. What improper things do I want?"
"Relations with the new Duke."
"He is my lord. I do as he says. This is the way the Heavenly Father created the world."
"Do not ignore me, Pedro. I've seen the way you look at him. It's the same way the young guardsmen look at the kitchen and laundry girls. You follow him with your eyes. It's gotten worse over the years, since..." Father Izecson trails off.
"He could do me great harm."
"Pedro, you lie. Lying is a sin. You don't worry about the harm he could do you. He fascinates you."
"It's not a lie. I know Lord Carvalho. He could do me great harm."
"But that's not why you watch him. You think about him the way men think about women. You think about pleasing him and making him happy and comfortable. It's not proper."
"You know I don't think of anyone that way. If I did, it wouldn't be my lord Ricardo. He's the lord, and the cause of the worst moments of my life. Also, he’s a man," Pedro does his best to sound horrified and not worried by how little the last factor horrifies him. He's more worried about being seen as a woman than the fact Ricardo's a man.
"All the reasons you tell yourself. I don't doubt that you fight these unnatural feelings every day, Pedro."
"Father Izecson, I don't have unnatural feelings. I respect my lord and his dominion. That's all."
Father Izecson smiles a soft, sad smile. "Go, Pedro. God and I will be waiting to save you when you can admit to your unclean lusts."
"I won't need to be purged of unclean lusts, Father. I will see you at Mass tonight."
Father Izecson nods. "I look forward to seeing you."
Pedro's haunted by Father's Izecson's words as he works on the household accounts and thinks about the changes he needs to make to the work rota now that no one is needed to care for the former Duke. He's tired, emotional, and still has to deal with whatever problems Lord Ricardo is going to give him to solve.
The kitchen women don't like his changes, neither do the laundress nor the serving girls. They'll all have to live with them though. His position close to Ricardo means he has slightly more power than the former Duchess's chief lady-in-waiting.
The tasks don't take all of his attention, and he still has the ability to focus on Father Izecson's words. Does he have feelings for Lord Ricardo? Well, other than the obvious ones. Rage. Distrust. Bitterness. He's taken countless beatings for the man, after all.
The only problem is that he can't find the strength those emotions are supposed to have. They've been that way before, but now they've faded to shadows. When he woke up to find Ricardo sitting beside him, those feelings started to fade. Respect, loyalty, and maybe affection started to grow in their place.
He's also been given many opportunities because of Ricardo. He can read, wield a knife and sword, and ride a horse.
He's distressed by the fact he doesn't feel all those things that he should be feeling. He shouldn't be distressed. It's a good, Christian thing to forgive Ricardo his transgressions. Father Izecson would like that. At least, Pedro thinks he would, but maybe it would be evidence of unclean lusts.
He's not in love with Ricardo Carvalho. He feels loyalty and respect, which are the emotions he's supposed to feel for his lord. The man is in control of his life and death, so Pedro also feels a little bit of fear.
He'd lay his life down for Ricardo, but any of the warriors would do that out of loyalty.
What can Father Izecson mean when he says Pedro has unclean lusts? He doesn't imagine Ricardo naked or anything of that sort. He doesn't think too much about Ricardo. He thinks about what he has to do to please the lord, and that means he needs to be working.
-
The study is a lovely room. His father always took great pride in what he'd done with this room. It reminded him of Lisboa and the culture and the marvels of the capital.
To Ricardo, it's just a room filled with several books, which are an expense that was only worthwhile in his father's head. Pedro might feel the same way about the room; he often works here. Lord Jose Mourinho seems impressed by his father's slice of Lisboa though. Maybe, like his father, Lord Mourinho associates books with progress and all the good things coming to them from Italy. Lisboa is the centre of their world.
Ricardo doesn't feel the same. He's happy in Porto.
Mourinho is an important lord in Lisboa right now though. He might not be a Duke, but Jose has royal favour. That's even better than a title in most cases. Royal favour comes with money, political power, and the ability to do what those in favour wish. At least until they lose favour.
Jose runs one finger down the spine of one of books. "Your father created this room as a homage to progress and the new ways of thinking. I admired that about him. He was always seeing to move us forward, both culturally and politically."
Ricardo's silent for a moment. "He wanted Portugal to powerful and free. He always thought the alliance with England would ensure that if we used it correctly."
Jose pauses. "Many are afraid the English will take us over."
"We have to be smart. You can bring English culture into Lisboa, into Porto, and you can be smart about it. King John is allied with the English and the Hapsburgs. He cannot walk that path forever. My father thought the English were the better Devil, and he was exiled for it. He came out to Porto and lived out his life trying to prove he was right."
"I know all of this, Ricardo. I was there when your father and our King had their disagreement."
"Then you surely remember it's dangerous to be here. My family is out of favour. I don't think you should risk your position by being here."
"Your father is dead. The King respects what he was willing to do for his country. I've been told to convey to you the regrets of our monarch. You'd be welcome at the royal court should you wish to come to Lisboa, Ricardo."
Ricardo gives himself a moment to control his temper. He's not quite sure what to say to this unexpected offer. He has his father's dream sitting before him, and he doesn't want it. "Do I have to decide right this second? I don't wish to be disrespectful to my father's memory by considering such a offer so quickly. I need to pray for my father's immortal soul."
Jose stills. "Of course. No one means any disrespect to your father, may his soul rest in peace."
Ricardo nods. "I will go to Lisboa and make my oaths to the King as soon as is proper. In the meantime, perhaps you could convey a message back to our Monarch for me?"
Jose frowns at him, obviously not liking being turned into a messenger by anyone less than the King. He's without an easy way out though. "Of course, Ricardo."
Ricardo smiles. The use of his Christian name is an intentional slight. It's reassuring to know he's not as bad at politics as he's always believed. If he can hold his own with Mourinho, he's doing better than expected.
"Tell him that the Carvalho house is as loyal as ever to our monarch. We will never turn on our kin."
Jose frown deepens. "And this Spaniard in your house?"
"Are you familiar with the English concept of a whipping boy?"
"No." The word is short and clipped.
"The English have the idea that if you take someone of lesser rank and raise them with a noble, the two will become close."
Jose's eyes are pinned to Ricardo's relaxed form. He knows that this will make no sense to the other lord. It doesn't make sense to him. Something about the concept doesn't translate well between the cultures.
"This is what worries me."
"However, that wasn't the case between the Spaniard and myself. Perhaps I was too old when they brought him from the ruins of his village. Maybe he too closed off or too different. Over the last several years, he has taken my punishments and left me free to do as I will."
Jose blinks. "And you feel no guilt?"
"Why should I feel guilt, Lord Mourinho? It's his function in life, what God intended him to do."
Jose swallows. "You will be most welcome in Lisboa, Lord Carvalho."
-
Pedro is distracted the next time he sees his lord.
"Leon," he finally hears in an irritated tone.
It snaps him back to reality harshly, and he's left staring at Ricardo dumbly.
"The accounts, you fool. The ones you were supposed to bring to me earlier when I specifically asked for them."
"Here, my lord."
"What are they doing here? I told you to bring them to me yesterday. God's teeth, you're useless."
Pedro takes a deep breath to steady himself. He has to work to stop Ricardo's rage from affecting him. He doesn't want Ricardo upset with him. He's not sure what he's done to deserve this type of treatment.
All the other lords have gone home. They have left the house in disarray, and now everyone is simply in mourning. He's tried his best to brace himself for Lord Carvalho's mood swings. One day he's normal, the next he's tearing his rooms apart.
Avoiding his lord's rage is practical though. It has nothing to do with these feelings Father Izecson says are to be found inside him. It has absolutely nothing to do with those.
Nothing.
"My apologies, my lord." Pedro picks up the accounts and hands them to Ricardo. "Here, my lord. The accounts."
Ricardo takes the accounts, looks at them for a moment, and shoves them back at Pedro's chest. "Just tell me what it all means," Ricardo demands, bad temper clear in his voice.
"Your lands are doing well. The harvest looks to be profitable, the animals are in good health, and the tradespeople are doing well."
"The lands are doing well?"
"Yes. Of course, you also possess a store of spices and gold. The former clerk took some, but your father kept most of it from him. You're wealthy, my lord."
"Good. I'll need supplies for a trip. It slipped by mind until now, but I'll need to go to Lisboa when the weather turns nice again in the spring."
"Of course, my lord. I will start to ready the supplies that will keep immediately." Pedro bows and starts to back away from Ricardo. He hurries from the hallway just as soon as door to Ricardo's chambers closes.
He neatly avoids everyone else and heads to the storage room for the dry goods. It's harder for Pedro to plan for a trip when Ricardo doesn't have a specific timeframe in mind, but he doesn't know quite what else to do. He needs to avoid Lord Ricardo. The lord is upset with him, and he can't deal with that.
It upsets him more than it should. The fact he's this upset upsets him even more. He's never felt like this about anyone before Ricardo, and he doesn't think this is what simple loyalty feels like.
Just once, he'd like Ricardo to treat him as an equal, like he's more than a convenience or a tool. A person with his own value. Ricardo can do it. Pedro's seen it in the way he treats the guardsmen, smiths, hunters, and even the farmers who tend the lands and animals which feed the house.
The store room is dark and quiet. The only other key for these rooms is with Ricardo's mother's former chief lady-in-waiting. Now, with no family or home to return to, she tends to the house. Pedro moves the bolts of linen and wool.
He'll need to ask some of Ricardo's mother's former ladies to sew Ricardo a new set of clothes for his trip to Lisboa. It's obviously to swear loyalty to the King. Pedro feels the cloth as he moves through the stores, looking for the highest quality fabric.
Finally, he emerges. His emotions are still in upheaval, he's not sure he's any closer to understanding his feelings, but he does have two possible fabrics picked out for Ricardo's new clothes.
He wishes his feelings were as easy to sort out as the linen. He's not feeling bitterness, hate or anger at all anymore. It's not loyalty. It's more intense, and yet it's not.... He's not sure how to define it.
It's hot and cold and everything and nothing. He thinks about Ricardo all the time and hates that he does. He's very conflicted.
Maybe that's why Father Izecson thinks he needs to be cleansed. Maybe the Father’s right.
-
Ricardo can't help but watch the fire burn down with a sense of regret. He's wondering what the hell is happening. He has to go to Lisboa, and he can only put it off until the spring. He's put himself in a situation where he has to prove he's as capable as any of the other lords who have spent their entire lives currying royal favour.
That's who his father was. It's not who he is. So how did he lose his head and agree to go to Lisboa? Because he was stupid and overconfident. Mourinho is much better at playing people's weaknesses and blind spots. Mourinho made Ricardo feel important and successful. Now he's doing what Mourinho wanted and not what he wanted.
Mourinho is much better at the politics. Ricardo's going to be eaten alive in Lisboa. While he's busy pondering how to escape Lisboa, Pedro returns to the outer chamber of his bedroom. Ricardo is sitting in the corner, so Pedro doesn't see him.
His lion moves on silent feet. It's a trait all good servants seem to share. Pedro stokes the fire up enough to see and goes about pulling the small pallet out from the corner. Ricardo can't imagine sleeping on it. It doesn't seem any better than the floor, and it looks dirty. Pedro pulls off his threadbare tunic and kneels down towards the fire.
The firelight catches the white lines that cover the Spaniard's back. As he watches them move with Pedro's muscles, it hits Ricardo that he's the reason the other man has so many scars on his back.
Pedro's his whipping boy. He's been beaten in Ricardo's place. He knows that, but it's different to see it on Pedro's body. No matter what happens, Pedro's past has been carved into his skin. Ricardo leans forward, his eyes trying to pick out which lines represent the beating that almost killed the young man. The chair must creak or maybe he sighs or something, but Pedro notices he's not alone.
Pedro straightens, looking stiff and frightened, as he turns to face Ricardo’s direction Ricardo's. His eyes widen as he sees Ricardo sitting in the corner.
"My apologies, my lord. I didn't see you there. Forgive me. May I be of service in some way?"
Ricardo can hear the words, but he's more interested in the way the scars move up and over Pedro's thin shoulders.
"My lord?" Pedro tries again.
"I'm fine, Leon."
"Is there anything I can do, my lord? Is there some task I have neglected to perform for you?"
Ricardo doesn't blink, but he continues to study the think form of his whipping boy.
"My lord?"
"You were young when they brought you here, yes?"
"Of course, my lord. You were there when I was brought to this house. I've grown up here."
"Your loyalty is to this house?"
"Of course, my lord. I've done everything possible to prove that."
"I've seen that." Ricardo forces himself to stand up and walk to his chamber. He likes seeing Pedro off balance. It makes him feel powerful. The scars on the Spaniard's back threw him off balance, and he's struggling to regain control.
Pedro's back is covered in scars, all because of him. How does this follow God's plan? And why is he bothering to obsess over this when he has surviving in Lisboa to worry about, and nothing can be done to change the past?
Father Izecson would tell him to trust in God. It's a pity he doesn't.
It takes a long time, well past the birth of Christ, before his desire to see the damage he's done outweighs his common sense. If God is truly watching, He'll understand why Ricardo needs to see this.
It's his penance.
It takes almost another month before he can force himself to go and do it. The corner in which he chooses to sit is dark. Pedro is late in returning to the chamber; Pedro's always late to return. This time Ricardo knows he's been working to pull all the tack, check the wagons, the horses, the weapons, and select the servants and guardsmen who will accompany Ricardo to Lisboa.
Travelling as the Duke of Porto is a good deal more work than Ricardo expected.
The fire's almost burned out, so the room's lit by the weak light of the moon when Pedro slips in the same way he did the first time. His routine doesn't change, pallet and tunic. Pedro doesn't stoke the fire quite as much this time though, and Ricardo has to squint to see him as a result. Still, he can see as Leon pulls his shirt over his head, and all those thin white lines appear to condemn Ricardo.
He'd try to count them, but it would get tedious quickly. He'd lose count, and he's not sure he could even count high enough. The movements Pedro makes are smooth and controlled. He crouches and folds his ratty tunic, placing it beside his cot. Pedro's always been neat in his habits.
The movement of those lines fascinates Ricardo. Part of it is some vague sense of pride that Leon's never going to completely escape him. No matter what.
He watches Pedro in the low light for as long as it takes for the man to get ready, climb onto his little cot, and close his eyes. Ricardo rises, as quietly as he can, and walks over to stand above Pedro. His whipping boy's closed eyes make him look peaceful. As Ricardo leans in close, the marks that cover the tops of Leon's shoulders are more apparent.
It takes Pedro a moment to realize someone is standing over him and wake up.
Pedro’s eyes are wide and scared as he stares up at Ricardo. He doesn't know who's above him.
"Relax, Leon. I couldn’t sleep, so I came out here. I thought the flames might lull me to sleep."
"Of course, my lord," Pedro sits up. "I can leave if you'd like privacy."
"And what? Sit on the cold stone of the hallway? It's fine, Leon. You're not disturbing anything. I'd just never noticed all the marks on you before."
"I'm sorry, my lord. I don't understand."
"The scars."
"Oh." Pedro doesn't have an answer for that. He doesn't know how to deal with Ricardo's introspection in the dark of the night. "I'll stoke the fire for you."
Ricardo doesn't bother acknowledging Pedro's statement or actions. He watches the fire and Pedro's movements. Pedro's about to step back and retreat to his corner when Ricardo puts an arm out to stop him.
"Did it hurt?" his voice is quiet in the oppressive dark.
"My lord?"
"The scars. Did that hurt?"
Pedro's quiet for a moment. "You mean the beatings and the whippings? Yes, my lord, they hurt. They were punishments. They weren't supposed to be pleasant."
Ricardo watches the flames. "I didn't realize there were so many of them."
"There were a lot actions that your father, tutors, and teachers felt deserved punishment over the years."
Ricardo sends a dark look towards Pedro. "I did what needed to be done. I'm not my father. He was a fool to expect I would ever be like that."
"Of course, my lord."
"My trip to Lisoba is planned?"
"They're just finishing the last of the new clothes you'll need my lord. The horses have been chosen. They'll be reshod before your journey. The messengers have been sent to Lisboa."
Ricardo nods. "The house?"
"Between them, the marshalsea and the steward have everything in hand, my lord. All will be well during your absence."
"Good. Good work, Leon."
Ricardo thinks he can see the colour creep up Leon's neck. He's embarrassed by the praise, but Ricardo doesn't think it's such a rare thing.
"Thank you, my lord. I'm glad to be of service." Leon's eyes are pinned to the ground.
Ricardo reaches out with one hand to pull his whipping boy close. "When the others were here, they kept mentioning how lucky I was to have something as beautiful as you to attend me. Until tonight, I never understood. The firelight softens you. You're pretty enough during the day, but the play of shadows on your face makes you beautiful."
Ricardo slides two fingers under Pedro's chin. "And your eyes... they say you can see a man's soul in his eyes."
"Yes, my lord. I have heard that."
"Then you're one of the truly beautiful souls left in this world. Despite all that has been done to you, your eyes aren't filled with anger, hatred, or violence. You're a rare thing. I wish I could have understood that as a boy. I wish I'd valued it."
"My lord, are you well?"
Ricardo startles, tearing his attention away from Pedro's face. "Of course, why do you ask?"
"You're normally more given to actions than bouts of introspection."
"I feel old. Now that my father's gone, I feel the weight of this whole keep in a new way. It's a new feeling of being responsible for people's lives. It's changed me. I'm not quite sure what I should be doing. I'm going to Lisboa because that's wise politically, but it's not what I want."
"Of course, my lord. Being the Duke of Porto is a heavy responsibility."
"You keep saying that. It feels like some sort of empty platitude to calm me. It doesn't work, Leon. I'm not a child to be given a sweet and sent to bed."
"What do you want, my lord? Your people know you and trust you. You're respected, and your people know you'll do your best to protect them. You're comfortable with who you are. What more can you want? God has been good to you."
"You. I want you. You with your quick mind, your beautiful eyes, and your pretty lips. I've wanted you since I watched you recover from the horsewhip. Such a lithe form too. So pretty. And mine. My whipping boy. My boy. My responsibility."
Pedro swallows. "My lord, did you drink too much wine with dinner?"
"No. You always think it must something. It's not. You're mine. Everyone knows it, and I'm tired of pretending otherwise."
"My lord, every single person on your lands is one of your people. It's not just me."
Ricardo finds himself nodding. "Yes, everyone is, but you're special."
"You're overtired, my lord. The hunt this morning must have tired you. You'll forget all of this by the morning."
Ricardo blinks. Pedro's face is set in stern lines. His little lion is looking at him with fierce determination etched into his features. He's not going to stop insisting Ricardo's simply tired.
"Perhaps you're right Leon. The stress of my upcoming trip and the thought of presenting myself to the King have muddied my thoughts. I'm not in my right mind. It will be clearer in the morning."
Pedro nods eagerly, an almost fearfully look on his face. "If you'll allow, I'll help you back to your bed, my lord."
"Good. Don't forget to bank the fire."
"Of course not, my lord."
Ricardo's sure the last is mocking, and he can practically see Pedro biting the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from saying anything else. The comment simmering in the man's eyes makes him even more beautiful.
Pedro follows one step behind him, ready to catch him if he looks likes he’s going to fall. Pedro has to hurry to get in front of Ricardo to open the doors, so Ricardo can walk through.
Ricardo enters the room and stops as Pedro moves ahead of him. The covers on his bed are straightened, and he walks past Pedro to stand by the bed. The small set of stairs are ignored in favour of reaching out and grabbing Pedro by the arm, the other man is closer to the door. All the better to bow himself out.
"My lord, what is it? Do you feel unstable?"
Ricardo doesn't bother to answer. He doesn't want to let Pedro know what he's thinking. Instead, he pulls Pedro in close, flush against him.
Pedro's shocked enough that he falls into Ricardo's arms easily. Ricardo capitalizes on his advantage before Pedro can recover and uses the skills he acquired during painful combat lessons. He covers those coveted lips with his own and presses down until he's sure he's won.
For the first moment, Pedro is still, then the pressure becomes too much, those warm, soft lips open to him, and his tongue slides in. The fact his tongue is in another man's mouth doesn't startle Ricardo enough to cause him to pull back. Let God damn him when he's dead. While he's alive, he'll have Pedro.
Finally, he pulls back, and Pedro startles, coming back to himself, when the pressure on his lips is removed. He's halfway to the door to the outer rooms before he turns and bows. He's gone a moment later. Just gone.
-
Pedro slips through the house on silent feet. He needs to make it to the chapel. He needs the safety and forgiveness of God.
He goes to his knees in front of the altar. He can't help but look at the altar and hope that God will hear him, even if he isn't a priest. If he ever felt the need to be cleansed of the unclean lusts taking over his mind, body, and soul, it would be this moment in time. Now, after Ricardo kissed him.
It seems Father Izecson was right about him after all. He does have unclean lusts about which to worry. He stares at the altar and hopes that God will hear him. He prays to God to save his soul, and more than that, he prays to God to save Ricardo's soul. The lord is more important than he is, and he needs to be saved from damnation.
He's surprised when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He'd thought he was alone trying to earn God's forgiveness. When he turns to look away from the altar, he realizes there's weak light coming in through the windows. The hand belongs to Father Izecson.
"Pedro, child, what's wrong? I don't normally find you kneeling before the altar," he pauses for a moment, "and looking like you've been here for at least half the night."
"I needed to be close to God, Father."
The look that he gets in return is probing. "What happened, Pedro?"
"Lord Carvalho was acting very strangely last night, almost like he was drunk, and he kissed me."
"He kissed you? Was it a kiss of greeting?"
"No. He was not in his right mind. It was the type of kiss that leads to the passion between a man and woman."
Father Izecson leans down, peering into his face. "And how did you feel about this?"
"God, save my soul, please save my soul because I liked it. I didn't understand until his lips touched mine, but I liked it. I wanted him. I wanted him to continue... to do more in a way that wasn't right because he's another man. His lips on mine lit a fire in both my soul and my body, and I felt pleasure from it. The Bible tells me it's wrong, but I wanted it. I still want it. I'm unclean. I'm going to burn in Hell."
"The Bible also says that if you sincerely repent, God will save you from the pits of Hell. He is forgiving and loving. He gave us His only son for our sins, and we are all saved by it."
"God can't save me from myself, Father."
"Don't underestimate God. He works in ways you'll never understand. You aren't capable of understanding. Neither am I."
"Of course, Father. I came here to apologize to God for being unclean. I thought maybe if He sensed that I was sincere, He would forgive me. He would forgive Ricardo."
"Ricardo has to repent for forgiveness. This you can't endure for him. But don't worry. God loves all His children. He will forgive you if you repent and try to change your ways."
"Does He truly love me?"
"Of course. He'll save you. Open your heart to Him. Come up off the floor and sit on the pews with me. We'll discuss what can be done."
Pedro accepts the hand that helps him to his feet. The look he sends Father Izecson is pleading, and he knows it. He's scared. God's whiskers, he hasn't been this scared since they picked him and brought him to this house.
Father Izecson's face is kind and sympathetic. "I know you're afraid for your immortal soul, but God has not abandoned you, and neither have I."
"I try not doubt Him, but it's hard because I'm weak, and He is beyond me."
"He's beyond all of us, but He is also merciful. Is it every man, or is it just Lord Carvalho about whom you have unclean lusts?"
"When I look at the others, there's nothing. Maybe pity because some of them are so slow and mean. Lord Carvalho is the only one who touches my body and soul. Of all the people here, it's only ever my lord."
"Turn from temptation, Pedro."
"How can I do that, Father? He's my lord, the lord here. I serve at his pleasure."
"You must leave here as quickly as possible. Leave this house before the desire for what you most not touch becomes too much for you to endure."
"Surely, I'm not mean to simply run from my problems."
"Sometimes we are too proud to take the path God has laid before us. It was nearly so with me."
"Father?"
"This isn't my first assignment. That was to Lisboa and the Royal Court when Lord Carvalho's father was still in favour. He granted me sanctuary here in his house. I understood then that God wanted me to come north. He wanted me to step away from temptation and to serve as your guide when you came."
"Father?"
"There was a man at Court. He was as beautiful as one of the Lord God's angels and as kind as any man ever born. Far too good for this world. I thought myself to be in love with him. I imagine that it was pure, for there was nothing of the body in it. I was mistaken. No desire for another person is without some element of the carnal, expect perhaps that of a parent to see to their child safe and well. This house offered me safe haven when I realized the enormity of the test placed before my immortal soul. I would like to believe your coming is part of the reason I was tested. After all, God is mysterious."
"But aren't you supposed to face tests from God and endure them?"
"God only gives you the crosses you are able to carry, Pedro. His purpose isn't to see you fail, but to see you strong in your faith. He loves you."
"You believe I should leave Ricardo's home to prevent myself from falling any further from Grace."
"I think you should go for your own good. There's nothing for you here. You were his whipping boy. Tell me, even when he talked to you last night, when he kissed you, were you a subject or a person? I see how the Lord Ricardo looks at you. You look at him like he's the greatest gift placed on this planet by our Lord and Saviour, and he looks at you like you're the dirt under his boot."
"He's a good man. You told me that when I first joined this house, all those years ago."
"He's a good man, Pedro. He's a good man who leans very heavily on you. He needs to find his own path. He needs to repent for his own sins. Should he continue to try and walk your path, or you try to walk his, only ill will occur. It's not meant to be."
"But what about Ricardo?"
"What do you mean?"
"Who will look after him? Who will finish arranging his trip to Lisboa?"
"You honestly wish me to believe you haven't already taken care of everything? You have worked from before sunrise to after sunset to prepare him for this trip. Besides that, you can't leave right now. You'll have to wait until Lord Ricardo leaves for Lisboa."
"Fine. I'll focus on the final arrangements for the trip then. I'm just not sure I'm ready to leave this place. It's my home. It's the only home I've had for many years. I'm afraid to leave it. I don't know anything about the world out there. I'm Spanish, and I'm not sure I have any place in the world after living here for so long."
Father Izecson watches him silently for a moment. "The decision is yours, of course. God will not force you to take a path for which you're not ready. He will push you to take a path for which you don't know you're ready. I can tell you that you will condemn yourself to the fires of Hell if you ignore the opportunities he offers you. Leave as soon as possible, Pedro. Find your own way in life."
Pedro nods. "Thank you for the advice, Father. I will think about your words and consider the knowledge God has put in my heart. I suspect I will have planning of my own to do. Lord Ricardo's trip will be an excellent distraction."
"Of course, Pedro."
Pedro pushes himself from the pew, heads to the exit of the chapel, and then stops. "Father?"
"Yes, Pedro?" Father Izecson seems weary, as if a great weight has suddenly been placed on his shoulders. It's not inaccurate though. The immortal souls of two men isn't a light burden.
"If I leave, you'll have to accompany Lord Ricardo to Lisboa. He'll need your advice and guidance, but he'll never be able to ask. He's nervous about going there. He wants to do well for his people."
"He doesn't listen to me. Sometimes, I think his heart is closed to God."
"Here. He will listen to you in Lisboa. We're all different people when facing our fears."
"You seem very sure of yourself. Pride goes before the fall, Pedro."
"God gave me eyes to see, Father. I have used them to watch Lord Ricardo since I first came here. As you claim, he may not know me or see me, but I know him. He will listen to you in Lisboa. Trust in God. This is your path now, Father. You must help Lord Ricardo find his path. Succeed where I have failed."
"And you, Pedro?"
"I have many things to do. The accounts, the stores need counting, products need to be bought and traded for, and Lord Ricardo's room will need to be aired when the weather warms. Besides all that? I have plans of my own to make if I'm to leave."
Pedro frowns ad Father Izecson simply nods his head. "Go with God," he hears. For the first time he has to bite his tongue. He's had a purpose since he was thrust to the floor in front of Lord Ricardo Carvalho, and now he doesn't. In just a few minutes, Father Izecson has removed his whole framework for understanding the world. He feels more than a little lost. He can't feel if this is God's will and the right thing to do.
If God meant for him to have this freedom, Pedro doesn't feel His presence in it.
The next month passes without incident. Pedro's almost willing to say that Lord Ricardo was simply drunk, but every once in a while, he'll see his lord looking at him a certain way and know the feelings are still there. It's the type of look. It reminds Pedro of a hunter patiently stalking his prey. Ricardo doesn't think Pedro will be receptive to another advance at this moment in time, but his attention lets Pedro know the lord hasn't forgotten about him.
In the end, it's easier than he thought it would be to plan. He's become part of the household, a trusted part, over the last decade and no one thinks to question what he's doing. No one suspects he might run. Why would he after all? Now that Lord Ricardo is finally duke, all his pain and suffering have a chance of paying off. Besides all that, he was brought to the house as a child, his family is dead, and he has nowhere to go when he leaves here. He'd be a fool to leave.
If only it weren't Ricardo's immortal soul in danger. The looks tell Pedro that the Duke of Porto has no intentions of stopping, despite the fact what he wants is forbidden in the Bible. Pedro can't risk Ricardo being condemned to Hell.
He doesn't have much to gather together in the end. It doesn't feel right to take more than the bare essentials from the household, from Ricardo. They've given him shelter and food for many years, and so it's not right to take from them.
Eventually, after much internal debate, he decides to take those things Ricardo gave him. One set of extra clothing, his heavy cloak, the pair of boots he's been wearing since his feet stopped growing, and enough food and water to last the first few days on the road. It's not an ideal situation, but it wouldn't be right to take more from Ricardo. He's not sure it's right to take this much.
He briefly considers writing a letter, but Ricardo would need Father Izecson to read it to him anyway. It wouldn't be private; he wouldn't be able to say all the things he'd like to say because Ricardo never mastered his lessons to the extent he'd need to read a letter.
What he can store in a roughly woven bag, he hides among his other things with his pallet. In all the preparations for Ricardo to go to Lisboa, no one notices the little bit he takes. It's exactly what he thought would happen.
The morning Ricardo leaves for Lisboa is frantic, but the weather is nice. The sky is clear, and the sun is shining brightly. It's a good omen for the travellers, a blessing even. It seems to Pedro that God is smiling on his plans, all his plans.
The departure goes well. All the horses and men get out the gate without mishap. It doesn't even take too long. It's not an hour past first light when the main gates are once again closed. Pedro is glad for the peace. He's got the house so well-organized now that no one needs to bother him. He has time to get ready for his own leave-taking.
He visits the library one more time. He'll probably never get to touch another book. He can't imagine where he'd find one. He's going to have avoid all the places Ricardo might be, which are also all the places where books might be located. When he tears himself away, he tells himself that he's got something in his eye.
He's definitely not crying at the thought of leaving his home.
He heads to the kitchens next. The cooks ignore him, allowing him to take what he needs without comment. It's not much, and it's normal behaviour now. He's worked very hard to make it normal behaviour. No one must notice anything. His last stop before slipping out the side gate is the outer chambers of Lord Carvalho's rooms. He can't bring himself to go into the inner chamber. It's the setting for the both best and worst memory of his life.
He's left orders for his pallet to be removed tomorrow, and soon it will be as if he's never even been here. The impermanence of life is particularly stark right now.
Only God is eternal.
No one notices his actual departure, and he contrasts that to Ricardo's leave-taking hours earlier. Only one of them will be coming back.
His feet are tired and sore within the first hour, but he knows better than to stop. He knows he'll head back if he stops before dark, but the dark will make it too dangerous to turn back.
When it finally gets dark, setting up camp is difficult. The wood in the area is damp, the ground is still cold, and he's shivering long before he manages to get a small flame in his fire pit. It's a harsh reminder of his new life. It's been a long time since he's been this cold, miserable, wet, and hungry.
As a result, it takes him a long time to fall asleep. He can't stop himself from wondering of Ricardo's travels are easier than his own. They should be. Pedro picked the very best of the woodsman to accompany the duke.
He can only pray they are.
His second day of travel is every bit as miserable as the first one. Only now, he's cold, tired, and running out of food. The end is the only bright spot. He reaches a small, rundown farm. The farmer, an old man with no surviving children, is willing to accept his help for the next few days in return for a place in the barn and some food.
He stays a week, relearning all the tasks he's almost forgotten, resting where it's dry, and he doesn't have to make a camp. He's glad the farmer can't tell he's Spanish. All his years of speaking Portuguese mean he can stay and blend into the landscape of his adopted home.
When the farmer asks his name before he leaves, he gives into a bout of sentimentality. He gives the man the one Ricardo gave him.
Pedro Leon.
Then he walks away and doesn't look back.
He soon discovers that the road is lonely. He can't help but be reminded of his own state when he watches families and groups travel past. He belongs nowhere and has no one. He misses his home, the people he knew, and his way of life. He even misses his little pallet on the floor by the fire.
He tries his best to trust in God and Father Izecson. For the most part, Father's Izecson's right. The distance helps. It makes the urges less intense. When he looks at the men with whom he crosses paths, he doesn't feel any urge to kiss them or engage in any other unclean lusts. It's just Ricardo. Only the Duke of Porto.
Father Izecson seems to be right about that as well.
The only cure for the sickness growing in his soul is distance from the cause. He can't help but hope there will be a day where he wakes and his first thought is not about Ricardo Carvalho. At the same time, he dreads it. He thinks of Ricardo one thousand times a day. It seems every other thought circles back to the Duke of Porto.
However long it took this sickness to corrupt his soul, he can feel that his penance won't be short. It'll be a long painful process, but maybe at the end of it, he'll be cleansed.
It's a grave sin though, so he's not sure.
He doesn't mind suffering for his sins. It's the way of things. He doesn't mind suffering for Ricardo's sins either.
It's still his purpose in life.
After all, he's the whipping boy.
Fini.
Notes:
1. This fic is set circa 1480 in Portugal. The monarch is King João II, who took the throne in 1477. Most of the families ruling the Portuguese duchies seem to have some relation to the monarch. Sometimes, the king is required to renew the title for the rightful heir to the house, which was known as de juro e herdade. Porto is not one of these ducal lands. For the purposes of this story, let's assume it is. This list of monarchs is found here , and some basic information on Portuguese ducal houses is here.
2. At this point in Portuguese history, the nobles have been granted a great deal of power by the monarch to keep the peace. This part of history is called "After the crisis" and is a time of semi-autonomy for the nobles. More information of Portugal and its monarch can be found here here and here .
3. Ricardo Carvalho is a defender for Real Madrid CF. He's Portuguese from the northern part of the Portugal, which is why he was given the ducal house of Porto. His wiki gives the basic information on his life and football career.
4. The ducal house of Porto doesn't exist at this time. It's established in 1833. However, it's the most appropriate house for this fic, so I've shifted it back some. More information is found here , though it's scant.
5. Medieval curses are quite different from modern ones, though some were similar I'm sure. This site has some, but I've lost my better one. In short, most curses had something to do with God, and insulting someone's parentage was a very serious offence.
6. Father Izecson is actually Ricardo Izecson dos Santos Leite, commonly known as Kaka. I would have called him Ricardo as well, but trust me, that's confusing.
7. Pedro Leon played for Real Madrid in the 2010/11 season. He has since been loaned back to Getafe. I'd mention what position he plays, but mainly that seems to be the bench, so.... His wiki provides basic information as well.
8. Pedro Leon is a whipping boy in this story. The concept is English, and I'm inferring the long standing alliance between England and Portugal would have made the transfer of concepts possible.
9. Miscellaneous information about subjects from the Renaissance, architecture, household organization, and clothing can be found at various locations.
10. Finally, the inspiration for this fic is located here . It's from Real Madrid's Copa del Rey victory celebration.
S
Author: shana0809
Dedication: To liroa15 for being the most amazing beta, and lady_quark and melj1213 for the idea and encouragement.
Disclaimer: They do not belong to me. Also, not true. I made it all up.
Fandom: Football rpf
Pairing: Pedro Leon/Ricardo Carvalho
Rating: R for language and adult concepts, violence, religious themes, and dubious consent.
Word Count: 15 955
Summary: We all have choices. Sometimes, they’re just not one ones we want.
A.N: For the rpf_big_bang challenge.
-
Pedro watches the new Duke of Porto walk away. He should go and deliver the lord's message. Father Izecson doesn't need to wait for a man who's not coming. He's straightening the Chapel when Pedro enters, all the mourners having put things in a state of disarray.
Pedro can't help think Father Izecson is actually saddened by the passing of their former lord; it's understandable though. Father Izecson is a gentle soul. He doesn't like to watch God's children suffer, and despite the fact the former lord is no longer suffering, his loss still affects those who remain.
"Father?"
"How is the new Duke, Pedro? Of all of us, you see him the most."
"Quiet, Father. I think perhaps he finished mourning as he watched the illness kill his father. He's meeting with Lord Mourinho, but he requests you pray for his father's soul."
Father Izecson sighs deeply. "I'm beginning to fear it's his soul for which I should be praying."
"Father, he's a good, God fearing man! You know this to be so."
"I know that Satan makes the path to Hell appealing, and more than one good man has fallen victim to it. What about you, Pedro?"
"What do you mean, Father?"
"The late Duke was a very important part of your life. Surely you feel something at his passing."
"He wasn't a man with whom I ever had much to do, Father. He was my lord. I respected him, and I obeyed him, and that's all there was to it. It's the way of things. God's way."
"Still..."
"I know that as a Christian I should feel sadness for the loss of the life of any true believer, but he was ill, Father. He was in pain and lost to us. He's with our Lord now and at peace. I don't feel regret that he's gone, just at the way he passed."
"Pedro?"
"Yes, Father?"
"It's all right to admit to your emotions here. There's no one who will punish you for being less than a true man."
"I am a man now, Father. Childish things are to be left behind. The former Duke would want us to continue on and be as loyal to his son as we were to him. I will endeavour to do that."
"Pedro?"
"Father?"
"God sees into your soul. He knows when you're lying. Even when you're lying to yourself, He knows. You must admit to the unclean feelings I know are inside of you. God is merciful. He won't punish you if you've done nothing wrong. He'll save you."
"Father, I have no need to be saved. I have done nothing from which I need saving. I have nothing for which I need to repent. I have read the Holy Book, come to Mass, confessed, and been absolved."
"I'm not talking about actions, but about the wants and desire you harbour deep inside your soul. You stay awake at night, lying on your pallet, and thinking of Lord Ricardo. You want improper things."
"Forgive me, Father, but I don't understand. What improper things do I want?"
"Relations with the new Duke."
"He is my lord. I do as he says. This is the way the Heavenly Father created the world."
"Do not ignore me, Pedro. I've seen the way you look at him. It's the same way the young guardsmen look at the kitchen and laundry girls. You follow him with your eyes. It's gotten worse over the years, since..." Father Izecson trails off.
"He could do me great harm."
"Pedro, you lie. Lying is a sin. You don't worry about the harm he could do you. He fascinates you."
"It's not a lie. I know Lord Carvalho. He could do me great harm."
"But that's not why you watch him. You think about him the way men think about women. You think about pleasing him and making him happy and comfortable. It's not proper."
"You know I don't think of anyone that way. If I did, it wouldn't be my lord Ricardo. He's the lord, and the cause of the worst moments of my life. Also, he’s a man," Pedro does his best to sound horrified and not worried by how little the last factor horrifies him. He's more worried about being seen as a woman than the fact Ricardo's a man.
"All the reasons you tell yourself. I don't doubt that you fight these unnatural feelings every day, Pedro."
"Father Izecson, I don't have unnatural feelings. I respect my lord and his dominion. That's all."
Father Izecson smiles a soft, sad smile. "Go, Pedro. God and I will be waiting to save you when you can admit to your unclean lusts."
"I won't need to be purged of unclean lusts, Father. I will see you at Mass tonight."
Father Izecson nods. "I look forward to seeing you."
Pedro's haunted by Father's Izecson's words as he works on the household accounts and thinks about the changes he needs to make to the work rota now that no one is needed to care for the former Duke. He's tired, emotional, and still has to deal with whatever problems Lord Ricardo is going to give him to solve.
The kitchen women don't like his changes, neither do the laundress nor the serving girls. They'll all have to live with them though. His position close to Ricardo means he has slightly more power than the former Duchess's chief lady-in-waiting.
The tasks don't take all of his attention, and he still has the ability to focus on Father Izecson's words. Does he have feelings for Lord Ricardo? Well, other than the obvious ones. Rage. Distrust. Bitterness. He's taken countless beatings for the man, after all.
The only problem is that he can't find the strength those emotions are supposed to have. They've been that way before, but now they've faded to shadows. When he woke up to find Ricardo sitting beside him, those feelings started to fade. Respect, loyalty, and maybe affection started to grow in their place.
He's also been given many opportunities because of Ricardo. He can read, wield a knife and sword, and ride a horse.
He's distressed by the fact he doesn't feel all those things that he should be feeling. He shouldn't be distressed. It's a good, Christian thing to forgive Ricardo his transgressions. Father Izecson would like that. At least, Pedro thinks he would, but maybe it would be evidence of unclean lusts.
He's not in love with Ricardo Carvalho. He feels loyalty and respect, which are the emotions he's supposed to feel for his lord. The man is in control of his life and death, so Pedro also feels a little bit of fear.
He'd lay his life down for Ricardo, but any of the warriors would do that out of loyalty.
What can Father Izecson mean when he says Pedro has unclean lusts? He doesn't imagine Ricardo naked or anything of that sort. He doesn't think too much about Ricardo. He thinks about what he has to do to please the lord, and that means he needs to be working.
-
The study is a lovely room. His father always took great pride in what he'd done with this room. It reminded him of Lisboa and the culture and the marvels of the capital.
To Ricardo, it's just a room filled with several books, which are an expense that was only worthwhile in his father's head. Pedro might feel the same way about the room; he often works here. Lord Jose Mourinho seems impressed by his father's slice of Lisboa though. Maybe, like his father, Lord Mourinho associates books with progress and all the good things coming to them from Italy. Lisboa is the centre of their world.
Ricardo doesn't feel the same. He's happy in Porto.
Mourinho is an important lord in Lisboa right now though. He might not be a Duke, but Jose has royal favour. That's even better than a title in most cases. Royal favour comes with money, political power, and the ability to do what those in favour wish. At least until they lose favour.
Jose runs one finger down the spine of one of books. "Your father created this room as a homage to progress and the new ways of thinking. I admired that about him. He was always seeing to move us forward, both culturally and politically."
Ricardo's silent for a moment. "He wanted Portugal to powerful and free. He always thought the alliance with England would ensure that if we used it correctly."
Jose pauses. "Many are afraid the English will take us over."
"We have to be smart. You can bring English culture into Lisboa, into Porto, and you can be smart about it. King John is allied with the English and the Hapsburgs. He cannot walk that path forever. My father thought the English were the better Devil, and he was exiled for it. He came out to Porto and lived out his life trying to prove he was right."
"I know all of this, Ricardo. I was there when your father and our King had their disagreement."
"Then you surely remember it's dangerous to be here. My family is out of favour. I don't think you should risk your position by being here."
"Your father is dead. The King respects what he was willing to do for his country. I've been told to convey to you the regrets of our monarch. You'd be welcome at the royal court should you wish to come to Lisboa, Ricardo."
Ricardo gives himself a moment to control his temper. He's not quite sure what to say to this unexpected offer. He has his father's dream sitting before him, and he doesn't want it. "Do I have to decide right this second? I don't wish to be disrespectful to my father's memory by considering such a offer so quickly. I need to pray for my father's immortal soul."
Jose stills. "Of course. No one means any disrespect to your father, may his soul rest in peace."
Ricardo nods. "I will go to Lisboa and make my oaths to the King as soon as is proper. In the meantime, perhaps you could convey a message back to our Monarch for me?"
Jose frowns at him, obviously not liking being turned into a messenger by anyone less than the King. He's without an easy way out though. "Of course, Ricardo."
Ricardo smiles. The use of his Christian name is an intentional slight. It's reassuring to know he's not as bad at politics as he's always believed. If he can hold his own with Mourinho, he's doing better than expected.
"Tell him that the Carvalho house is as loyal as ever to our monarch. We will never turn on our kin."
Jose frown deepens. "And this Spaniard in your house?"
"Are you familiar with the English concept of a whipping boy?"
"No." The word is short and clipped.
"The English have the idea that if you take someone of lesser rank and raise them with a noble, the two will become close."
Jose's eyes are pinned to Ricardo's relaxed form. He knows that this will make no sense to the other lord. It doesn't make sense to him. Something about the concept doesn't translate well between the cultures.
"This is what worries me."
"However, that wasn't the case between the Spaniard and myself. Perhaps I was too old when they brought him from the ruins of his village. Maybe he too closed off or too different. Over the last several years, he has taken my punishments and left me free to do as I will."
Jose blinks. "And you feel no guilt?"
"Why should I feel guilt, Lord Mourinho? It's his function in life, what God intended him to do."
Jose swallows. "You will be most welcome in Lisboa, Lord Carvalho."
-
Pedro is distracted the next time he sees his lord.
"Leon," he finally hears in an irritated tone.
It snaps him back to reality harshly, and he's left staring at Ricardo dumbly.
"The accounts, you fool. The ones you were supposed to bring to me earlier when I specifically asked for them."
"Here, my lord."
"What are they doing here? I told you to bring them to me yesterday. God's teeth, you're useless."
Pedro takes a deep breath to steady himself. He has to work to stop Ricardo's rage from affecting him. He doesn't want Ricardo upset with him. He's not sure what he's done to deserve this type of treatment.
All the other lords have gone home. They have left the house in disarray, and now everyone is simply in mourning. He's tried his best to brace himself for Lord Carvalho's mood swings. One day he's normal, the next he's tearing his rooms apart.
Avoiding his lord's rage is practical though. It has nothing to do with these feelings Father Izecson says are to be found inside him. It has absolutely nothing to do with those.
Nothing.
"My apologies, my lord." Pedro picks up the accounts and hands them to Ricardo. "Here, my lord. The accounts."
Ricardo takes the accounts, looks at them for a moment, and shoves them back at Pedro's chest. "Just tell me what it all means," Ricardo demands, bad temper clear in his voice.
"Your lands are doing well. The harvest looks to be profitable, the animals are in good health, and the tradespeople are doing well."
"The lands are doing well?"
"Yes. Of course, you also possess a store of spices and gold. The former clerk took some, but your father kept most of it from him. You're wealthy, my lord."
"Good. I'll need supplies for a trip. It slipped by mind until now, but I'll need to go to Lisboa when the weather turns nice again in the spring."
"Of course, my lord. I will start to ready the supplies that will keep immediately." Pedro bows and starts to back away from Ricardo. He hurries from the hallway just as soon as door to Ricardo's chambers closes.
He neatly avoids everyone else and heads to the storage room for the dry goods. It's harder for Pedro to plan for a trip when Ricardo doesn't have a specific timeframe in mind, but he doesn't know quite what else to do. He needs to avoid Lord Ricardo. The lord is upset with him, and he can't deal with that.
It upsets him more than it should. The fact he's this upset upsets him even more. He's never felt like this about anyone before Ricardo, and he doesn't think this is what simple loyalty feels like.
Just once, he'd like Ricardo to treat him as an equal, like he's more than a convenience or a tool. A person with his own value. Ricardo can do it. Pedro's seen it in the way he treats the guardsmen, smiths, hunters, and even the farmers who tend the lands and animals which feed the house.
The store room is dark and quiet. The only other key for these rooms is with Ricardo's mother's former chief lady-in-waiting. Now, with no family or home to return to, she tends to the house. Pedro moves the bolts of linen and wool.
He'll need to ask some of Ricardo's mother's former ladies to sew Ricardo a new set of clothes for his trip to Lisboa. It's obviously to swear loyalty to the King. Pedro feels the cloth as he moves through the stores, looking for the highest quality fabric.
Finally, he emerges. His emotions are still in upheaval, he's not sure he's any closer to understanding his feelings, but he does have two possible fabrics picked out for Ricardo's new clothes.
He wishes his feelings were as easy to sort out as the linen. He's not feeling bitterness, hate or anger at all anymore. It's not loyalty. It's more intense, and yet it's not.... He's not sure how to define it.
It's hot and cold and everything and nothing. He thinks about Ricardo all the time and hates that he does. He's very conflicted.
Maybe that's why Father Izecson thinks he needs to be cleansed. Maybe the Father’s right.
-
Ricardo can't help but watch the fire burn down with a sense of regret. He's wondering what the hell is happening. He has to go to Lisboa, and he can only put it off until the spring. He's put himself in a situation where he has to prove he's as capable as any of the other lords who have spent their entire lives currying royal favour.
That's who his father was. It's not who he is. So how did he lose his head and agree to go to Lisboa? Because he was stupid and overconfident. Mourinho is much better at playing people's weaknesses and blind spots. Mourinho made Ricardo feel important and successful. Now he's doing what Mourinho wanted and not what he wanted.
Mourinho is much better at the politics. Ricardo's going to be eaten alive in Lisboa. While he's busy pondering how to escape Lisboa, Pedro returns to the outer chamber of his bedroom. Ricardo is sitting in the corner, so Pedro doesn't see him.
His lion moves on silent feet. It's a trait all good servants seem to share. Pedro stokes the fire up enough to see and goes about pulling the small pallet out from the corner. Ricardo can't imagine sleeping on it. It doesn't seem any better than the floor, and it looks dirty. Pedro pulls off his threadbare tunic and kneels down towards the fire.
The firelight catches the white lines that cover the Spaniard's back. As he watches them move with Pedro's muscles, it hits Ricardo that he's the reason the other man has so many scars on his back.
Pedro's his whipping boy. He's been beaten in Ricardo's place. He knows that, but it's different to see it on Pedro's body. No matter what happens, Pedro's past has been carved into his skin. Ricardo leans forward, his eyes trying to pick out which lines represent the beating that almost killed the young man. The chair must creak or maybe he sighs or something, but Pedro notices he's not alone.
Pedro straightens, looking stiff and frightened, as he turns to face Ricardo’s direction Ricardo's. His eyes widen as he sees Ricardo sitting in the corner.
"My apologies, my lord. I didn't see you there. Forgive me. May I be of service in some way?"
Ricardo can hear the words, but he's more interested in the way the scars move up and over Pedro's thin shoulders.
"My lord?" Pedro tries again.
"I'm fine, Leon."
"Is there anything I can do, my lord? Is there some task I have neglected to perform for you?"
Ricardo doesn't blink, but he continues to study the think form of his whipping boy.
"My lord?"
"You were young when they brought you here, yes?"
"Of course, my lord. You were there when I was brought to this house. I've grown up here."
"Your loyalty is to this house?"
"Of course, my lord. I've done everything possible to prove that."
"I've seen that." Ricardo forces himself to stand up and walk to his chamber. He likes seeing Pedro off balance. It makes him feel powerful. The scars on the Spaniard's back threw him off balance, and he's struggling to regain control.
Pedro's back is covered in scars, all because of him. How does this follow God's plan? And why is he bothering to obsess over this when he has surviving in Lisboa to worry about, and nothing can be done to change the past?
Father Izecson would tell him to trust in God. It's a pity he doesn't.
It takes a long time, well past the birth of Christ, before his desire to see the damage he's done outweighs his common sense. If God is truly watching, He'll understand why Ricardo needs to see this.
It's his penance.
It takes almost another month before he can force himself to go and do it. The corner in which he chooses to sit is dark. Pedro is late in returning to the chamber; Pedro's always late to return. This time Ricardo knows he's been working to pull all the tack, check the wagons, the horses, the weapons, and select the servants and guardsmen who will accompany Ricardo to Lisboa.
Travelling as the Duke of Porto is a good deal more work than Ricardo expected.
The fire's almost burned out, so the room's lit by the weak light of the moon when Pedro slips in the same way he did the first time. His routine doesn't change, pallet and tunic. Pedro doesn't stoke the fire quite as much this time though, and Ricardo has to squint to see him as a result. Still, he can see as Leon pulls his shirt over his head, and all those thin white lines appear to condemn Ricardo.
He'd try to count them, but it would get tedious quickly. He'd lose count, and he's not sure he could even count high enough. The movements Pedro makes are smooth and controlled. He crouches and folds his ratty tunic, placing it beside his cot. Pedro's always been neat in his habits.
The movement of those lines fascinates Ricardo. Part of it is some vague sense of pride that Leon's never going to completely escape him. No matter what.
He watches Pedro in the low light for as long as it takes for the man to get ready, climb onto his little cot, and close his eyes. Ricardo rises, as quietly as he can, and walks over to stand above Pedro. His whipping boy's closed eyes make him look peaceful. As Ricardo leans in close, the marks that cover the tops of Leon's shoulders are more apparent.
It takes Pedro a moment to realize someone is standing over him and wake up.
Pedro’s eyes are wide and scared as he stares up at Ricardo. He doesn't know who's above him.
"Relax, Leon. I couldn’t sleep, so I came out here. I thought the flames might lull me to sleep."
"Of course, my lord," Pedro sits up. "I can leave if you'd like privacy."
"And what? Sit on the cold stone of the hallway? It's fine, Leon. You're not disturbing anything. I'd just never noticed all the marks on you before."
"I'm sorry, my lord. I don't understand."
"The scars."
"Oh." Pedro doesn't have an answer for that. He doesn't know how to deal with Ricardo's introspection in the dark of the night. "I'll stoke the fire for you."
Ricardo doesn't bother acknowledging Pedro's statement or actions. He watches the fire and Pedro's movements. Pedro's about to step back and retreat to his corner when Ricardo puts an arm out to stop him.
"Did it hurt?" his voice is quiet in the oppressive dark.
"My lord?"
"The scars. Did that hurt?"
Pedro's quiet for a moment. "You mean the beatings and the whippings? Yes, my lord, they hurt. They were punishments. They weren't supposed to be pleasant."
Ricardo watches the flames. "I didn't realize there were so many of them."
"There were a lot actions that your father, tutors, and teachers felt deserved punishment over the years."
Ricardo sends a dark look towards Pedro. "I did what needed to be done. I'm not my father. He was a fool to expect I would ever be like that."
"Of course, my lord."
"My trip to Lisoba is planned?"
"They're just finishing the last of the new clothes you'll need my lord. The horses have been chosen. They'll be reshod before your journey. The messengers have been sent to Lisboa."
Ricardo nods. "The house?"
"Between them, the marshalsea and the steward have everything in hand, my lord. All will be well during your absence."
"Good. Good work, Leon."
Ricardo thinks he can see the colour creep up Leon's neck. He's embarrassed by the praise, but Ricardo doesn't think it's such a rare thing.
"Thank you, my lord. I'm glad to be of service." Leon's eyes are pinned to the ground.
Ricardo reaches out with one hand to pull his whipping boy close. "When the others were here, they kept mentioning how lucky I was to have something as beautiful as you to attend me. Until tonight, I never understood. The firelight softens you. You're pretty enough during the day, but the play of shadows on your face makes you beautiful."
Ricardo slides two fingers under Pedro's chin. "And your eyes... they say you can see a man's soul in his eyes."
"Yes, my lord. I have heard that."
"Then you're one of the truly beautiful souls left in this world. Despite all that has been done to you, your eyes aren't filled with anger, hatred, or violence. You're a rare thing. I wish I could have understood that as a boy. I wish I'd valued it."
"My lord, are you well?"
Ricardo startles, tearing his attention away from Pedro's face. "Of course, why do you ask?"
"You're normally more given to actions than bouts of introspection."
"I feel old. Now that my father's gone, I feel the weight of this whole keep in a new way. It's a new feeling of being responsible for people's lives. It's changed me. I'm not quite sure what I should be doing. I'm going to Lisboa because that's wise politically, but it's not what I want."
"Of course, my lord. Being the Duke of Porto is a heavy responsibility."
"You keep saying that. It feels like some sort of empty platitude to calm me. It doesn't work, Leon. I'm not a child to be given a sweet and sent to bed."
"What do you want, my lord? Your people know you and trust you. You're respected, and your people know you'll do your best to protect them. You're comfortable with who you are. What more can you want? God has been good to you."
"You. I want you. You with your quick mind, your beautiful eyes, and your pretty lips. I've wanted you since I watched you recover from the horsewhip. Such a lithe form too. So pretty. And mine. My whipping boy. My boy. My responsibility."
Pedro swallows. "My lord, did you drink too much wine with dinner?"
"No. You always think it must something. It's not. You're mine. Everyone knows it, and I'm tired of pretending otherwise."
"My lord, every single person on your lands is one of your people. It's not just me."
Ricardo finds himself nodding. "Yes, everyone is, but you're special."
"You're overtired, my lord. The hunt this morning must have tired you. You'll forget all of this by the morning."
Ricardo blinks. Pedro's face is set in stern lines. His little lion is looking at him with fierce determination etched into his features. He's not going to stop insisting Ricardo's simply tired.
"Perhaps you're right Leon. The stress of my upcoming trip and the thought of presenting myself to the King have muddied my thoughts. I'm not in my right mind. It will be clearer in the morning."
Pedro nods eagerly, an almost fearfully look on his face. "If you'll allow, I'll help you back to your bed, my lord."
"Good. Don't forget to bank the fire."
"Of course not, my lord."
Ricardo's sure the last is mocking, and he can practically see Pedro biting the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from saying anything else. The comment simmering in the man's eyes makes him even more beautiful.
Pedro follows one step behind him, ready to catch him if he looks likes he’s going to fall. Pedro has to hurry to get in front of Ricardo to open the doors, so Ricardo can walk through.
Ricardo enters the room and stops as Pedro moves ahead of him. The covers on his bed are straightened, and he walks past Pedro to stand by the bed. The small set of stairs are ignored in favour of reaching out and grabbing Pedro by the arm, the other man is closer to the door. All the better to bow himself out.
"My lord, what is it? Do you feel unstable?"
Ricardo doesn't bother to answer. He doesn't want to let Pedro know what he's thinking. Instead, he pulls Pedro in close, flush against him.
Pedro's shocked enough that he falls into Ricardo's arms easily. Ricardo capitalizes on his advantage before Pedro can recover and uses the skills he acquired during painful combat lessons. He covers those coveted lips with his own and presses down until he's sure he's won.
For the first moment, Pedro is still, then the pressure becomes too much, those warm, soft lips open to him, and his tongue slides in. The fact his tongue is in another man's mouth doesn't startle Ricardo enough to cause him to pull back. Let God damn him when he's dead. While he's alive, he'll have Pedro.
Finally, he pulls back, and Pedro startles, coming back to himself, when the pressure on his lips is removed. He's halfway to the door to the outer rooms before he turns and bows. He's gone a moment later. Just gone.
-
Pedro slips through the house on silent feet. He needs to make it to the chapel. He needs the safety and forgiveness of God.
He goes to his knees in front of the altar. He can't help but look at the altar and hope that God will hear him, even if he isn't a priest. If he ever felt the need to be cleansed of the unclean lusts taking over his mind, body, and soul, it would be this moment in time. Now, after Ricardo kissed him.
It seems Father Izecson was right about him after all. He does have unclean lusts about which to worry. He stares at the altar and hopes that God will hear him. He prays to God to save his soul, and more than that, he prays to God to save Ricardo's soul. The lord is more important than he is, and he needs to be saved from damnation.
He's surprised when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He'd thought he was alone trying to earn God's forgiveness. When he turns to look away from the altar, he realizes there's weak light coming in through the windows. The hand belongs to Father Izecson.
"Pedro, child, what's wrong? I don't normally find you kneeling before the altar," he pauses for a moment, "and looking like you've been here for at least half the night."
"I needed to be close to God, Father."
The look that he gets in return is probing. "What happened, Pedro?"
"Lord Carvalho was acting very strangely last night, almost like he was drunk, and he kissed me."
"He kissed you? Was it a kiss of greeting?"
"No. He was not in his right mind. It was the type of kiss that leads to the passion between a man and woman."
Father Izecson leans down, peering into his face. "And how did you feel about this?"
"God, save my soul, please save my soul because I liked it. I didn't understand until his lips touched mine, but I liked it. I wanted him. I wanted him to continue... to do more in a way that wasn't right because he's another man. His lips on mine lit a fire in both my soul and my body, and I felt pleasure from it. The Bible tells me it's wrong, but I wanted it. I still want it. I'm unclean. I'm going to burn in Hell."
"The Bible also says that if you sincerely repent, God will save you from the pits of Hell. He is forgiving and loving. He gave us His only son for our sins, and we are all saved by it."
"God can't save me from myself, Father."
"Don't underestimate God. He works in ways you'll never understand. You aren't capable of understanding. Neither am I."
"Of course, Father. I came here to apologize to God for being unclean. I thought maybe if He sensed that I was sincere, He would forgive me. He would forgive Ricardo."
"Ricardo has to repent for forgiveness. This you can't endure for him. But don't worry. God loves all His children. He will forgive you if you repent and try to change your ways."
"Does He truly love me?"
"Of course. He'll save you. Open your heart to Him. Come up off the floor and sit on the pews with me. We'll discuss what can be done."
Pedro accepts the hand that helps him to his feet. The look he sends Father Izecson is pleading, and he knows it. He's scared. God's whiskers, he hasn't been this scared since they picked him and brought him to this house.
Father Izecson's face is kind and sympathetic. "I know you're afraid for your immortal soul, but God has not abandoned you, and neither have I."
"I try not doubt Him, but it's hard because I'm weak, and He is beyond me."
"He's beyond all of us, but He is also merciful. Is it every man, or is it just Lord Carvalho about whom you have unclean lusts?"
"When I look at the others, there's nothing. Maybe pity because some of them are so slow and mean. Lord Carvalho is the only one who touches my body and soul. Of all the people here, it's only ever my lord."
"Turn from temptation, Pedro."
"How can I do that, Father? He's my lord, the lord here. I serve at his pleasure."
"You must leave here as quickly as possible. Leave this house before the desire for what you most not touch becomes too much for you to endure."
"Surely, I'm not mean to simply run from my problems."
"Sometimes we are too proud to take the path God has laid before us. It was nearly so with me."
"Father?"
"This isn't my first assignment. That was to Lisboa and the Royal Court when Lord Carvalho's father was still in favour. He granted me sanctuary here in his house. I understood then that God wanted me to come north. He wanted me to step away from temptation and to serve as your guide when you came."
"Father?"
"There was a man at Court. He was as beautiful as one of the Lord God's angels and as kind as any man ever born. Far too good for this world. I thought myself to be in love with him. I imagine that it was pure, for there was nothing of the body in it. I was mistaken. No desire for another person is without some element of the carnal, expect perhaps that of a parent to see to their child safe and well. This house offered me safe haven when I realized the enormity of the test placed before my immortal soul. I would like to believe your coming is part of the reason I was tested. After all, God is mysterious."
"But aren't you supposed to face tests from God and endure them?"
"God only gives you the crosses you are able to carry, Pedro. His purpose isn't to see you fail, but to see you strong in your faith. He loves you."
"You believe I should leave Ricardo's home to prevent myself from falling any further from Grace."
"I think you should go for your own good. There's nothing for you here. You were his whipping boy. Tell me, even when he talked to you last night, when he kissed you, were you a subject or a person? I see how the Lord Ricardo looks at you. You look at him like he's the greatest gift placed on this planet by our Lord and Saviour, and he looks at you like you're the dirt under his boot."
"He's a good man. You told me that when I first joined this house, all those years ago."
"He's a good man, Pedro. He's a good man who leans very heavily on you. He needs to find his own path. He needs to repent for his own sins. Should he continue to try and walk your path, or you try to walk his, only ill will occur. It's not meant to be."
"But what about Ricardo?"
"What do you mean?"
"Who will look after him? Who will finish arranging his trip to Lisboa?"
"You honestly wish me to believe you haven't already taken care of everything? You have worked from before sunrise to after sunset to prepare him for this trip. Besides that, you can't leave right now. You'll have to wait until Lord Ricardo leaves for Lisboa."
"Fine. I'll focus on the final arrangements for the trip then. I'm just not sure I'm ready to leave this place. It's my home. It's the only home I've had for many years. I'm afraid to leave it. I don't know anything about the world out there. I'm Spanish, and I'm not sure I have any place in the world after living here for so long."
Father Izecson watches him silently for a moment. "The decision is yours, of course. God will not force you to take a path for which you're not ready. He will push you to take a path for which you don't know you're ready. I can tell you that you will condemn yourself to the fires of Hell if you ignore the opportunities he offers you. Leave as soon as possible, Pedro. Find your own way in life."
Pedro nods. "Thank you for the advice, Father. I will think about your words and consider the knowledge God has put in my heart. I suspect I will have planning of my own to do. Lord Ricardo's trip will be an excellent distraction."
"Of course, Pedro."
Pedro pushes himself from the pew, heads to the exit of the chapel, and then stops. "Father?"
"Yes, Pedro?" Father Izecson seems weary, as if a great weight has suddenly been placed on his shoulders. It's not inaccurate though. The immortal souls of two men isn't a light burden.
"If I leave, you'll have to accompany Lord Ricardo to Lisboa. He'll need your advice and guidance, but he'll never be able to ask. He's nervous about going there. He wants to do well for his people."
"He doesn't listen to me. Sometimes, I think his heart is closed to God."
"Here. He will listen to you in Lisboa. We're all different people when facing our fears."
"You seem very sure of yourself. Pride goes before the fall, Pedro."
"God gave me eyes to see, Father. I have used them to watch Lord Ricardo since I first came here. As you claim, he may not know me or see me, but I know him. He will listen to you in Lisboa. Trust in God. This is your path now, Father. You must help Lord Ricardo find his path. Succeed where I have failed."
"And you, Pedro?"
"I have many things to do. The accounts, the stores need counting, products need to be bought and traded for, and Lord Ricardo's room will need to be aired when the weather warms. Besides all that? I have plans of my own to make if I'm to leave."
Pedro frowns ad Father Izecson simply nods his head. "Go with God," he hears. For the first time he has to bite his tongue. He's had a purpose since he was thrust to the floor in front of Lord Ricardo Carvalho, and now he doesn't. In just a few minutes, Father Izecson has removed his whole framework for understanding the world. He feels more than a little lost. He can't feel if this is God's will and the right thing to do.
If God meant for him to have this freedom, Pedro doesn't feel His presence in it.
The next month passes without incident. Pedro's almost willing to say that Lord Ricardo was simply drunk, but every once in a while, he'll see his lord looking at him a certain way and know the feelings are still there. It's the type of look. It reminds Pedro of a hunter patiently stalking his prey. Ricardo doesn't think Pedro will be receptive to another advance at this moment in time, but his attention lets Pedro know the lord hasn't forgotten about him.
In the end, it's easier than he thought it would be to plan. He's become part of the household, a trusted part, over the last decade and no one thinks to question what he's doing. No one suspects he might run. Why would he after all? Now that Lord Ricardo is finally duke, all his pain and suffering have a chance of paying off. Besides all that, he was brought to the house as a child, his family is dead, and he has nowhere to go when he leaves here. He'd be a fool to leave.
If only it weren't Ricardo's immortal soul in danger. The looks tell Pedro that the Duke of Porto has no intentions of stopping, despite the fact what he wants is forbidden in the Bible. Pedro can't risk Ricardo being condemned to Hell.
He doesn't have much to gather together in the end. It doesn't feel right to take more than the bare essentials from the household, from Ricardo. They've given him shelter and food for many years, and so it's not right to take from them.
Eventually, after much internal debate, he decides to take those things Ricardo gave him. One set of extra clothing, his heavy cloak, the pair of boots he's been wearing since his feet stopped growing, and enough food and water to last the first few days on the road. It's not an ideal situation, but it wouldn't be right to take more from Ricardo. He's not sure it's right to take this much.
He briefly considers writing a letter, but Ricardo would need Father Izecson to read it to him anyway. It wouldn't be private; he wouldn't be able to say all the things he'd like to say because Ricardo never mastered his lessons to the extent he'd need to read a letter.
What he can store in a roughly woven bag, he hides among his other things with his pallet. In all the preparations for Ricardo to go to Lisboa, no one notices the little bit he takes. It's exactly what he thought would happen.
The morning Ricardo leaves for Lisboa is frantic, but the weather is nice. The sky is clear, and the sun is shining brightly. It's a good omen for the travellers, a blessing even. It seems to Pedro that God is smiling on his plans, all his plans.
The departure goes well. All the horses and men get out the gate without mishap. It doesn't even take too long. It's not an hour past first light when the main gates are once again closed. Pedro is glad for the peace. He's got the house so well-organized now that no one needs to bother him. He has time to get ready for his own leave-taking.
He visits the library one more time. He'll probably never get to touch another book. He can't imagine where he'd find one. He's going to have avoid all the places Ricardo might be, which are also all the places where books might be located. When he tears himself away, he tells himself that he's got something in his eye.
He's definitely not crying at the thought of leaving his home.
He heads to the kitchens next. The cooks ignore him, allowing him to take what he needs without comment. It's not much, and it's normal behaviour now. He's worked very hard to make it normal behaviour. No one must notice anything. His last stop before slipping out the side gate is the outer chambers of Lord Carvalho's rooms. He can't bring himself to go into the inner chamber. It's the setting for the both best and worst memory of his life.
He's left orders for his pallet to be removed tomorrow, and soon it will be as if he's never even been here. The impermanence of life is particularly stark right now.
Only God is eternal.
No one notices his actual departure, and he contrasts that to Ricardo's leave-taking hours earlier. Only one of them will be coming back.
His feet are tired and sore within the first hour, but he knows better than to stop. He knows he'll head back if he stops before dark, but the dark will make it too dangerous to turn back.
When it finally gets dark, setting up camp is difficult. The wood in the area is damp, the ground is still cold, and he's shivering long before he manages to get a small flame in his fire pit. It's a harsh reminder of his new life. It's been a long time since he's been this cold, miserable, wet, and hungry.
As a result, it takes him a long time to fall asleep. He can't stop himself from wondering of Ricardo's travels are easier than his own. They should be. Pedro picked the very best of the woodsman to accompany the duke.
He can only pray they are.
His second day of travel is every bit as miserable as the first one. Only now, he's cold, tired, and running out of food. The end is the only bright spot. He reaches a small, rundown farm. The farmer, an old man with no surviving children, is willing to accept his help for the next few days in return for a place in the barn and some food.
He stays a week, relearning all the tasks he's almost forgotten, resting where it's dry, and he doesn't have to make a camp. He's glad the farmer can't tell he's Spanish. All his years of speaking Portuguese mean he can stay and blend into the landscape of his adopted home.
When the farmer asks his name before he leaves, he gives into a bout of sentimentality. He gives the man the one Ricardo gave him.
Pedro Leon.
Then he walks away and doesn't look back.
He soon discovers that the road is lonely. He can't help but be reminded of his own state when he watches families and groups travel past. He belongs nowhere and has no one. He misses his home, the people he knew, and his way of life. He even misses his little pallet on the floor by the fire.
He tries his best to trust in God and Father Izecson. For the most part, Father's Izecson's right. The distance helps. It makes the urges less intense. When he looks at the men with whom he crosses paths, he doesn't feel any urge to kiss them or engage in any other unclean lusts. It's just Ricardo. Only the Duke of Porto.
Father Izecson seems to be right about that as well.
The only cure for the sickness growing in his soul is distance from the cause. He can't help but hope there will be a day where he wakes and his first thought is not about Ricardo Carvalho. At the same time, he dreads it. He thinks of Ricardo one thousand times a day. It seems every other thought circles back to the Duke of Porto.
However long it took this sickness to corrupt his soul, he can feel that his penance won't be short. It'll be a long painful process, but maybe at the end of it, he'll be cleansed.
It's a grave sin though, so he's not sure.
He doesn't mind suffering for his sins. It's the way of things. He doesn't mind suffering for Ricardo's sins either.
It's still his purpose in life.
After all, he's the whipping boy.
Fini.
Notes:
1. This fic is set circa 1480 in Portugal. The monarch is King João II, who took the throne in 1477. Most of the families ruling the Portuguese duchies seem to have some relation to the monarch. Sometimes, the king is required to renew the title for the rightful heir to the house, which was known as de juro e herdade. Porto is not one of these ducal lands. For the purposes of this story, let's assume it is. This list of monarchs is found here , and some basic information on Portuguese ducal houses is here.
2. At this point in Portuguese history, the nobles have been granted a great deal of power by the monarch to keep the peace. This part of history is called "After the crisis" and is a time of semi-autonomy for the nobles. More information of Portugal and its monarch can be found here here and here .
3. Ricardo Carvalho is a defender for Real Madrid CF. He's Portuguese from the northern part of the Portugal, which is why he was given the ducal house of Porto. His wiki gives the basic information on his life and football career.
4. The ducal house of Porto doesn't exist at this time. It's established in 1833. However, it's the most appropriate house for this fic, so I've shifted it back some. More information is found here , though it's scant.
5. Medieval curses are quite different from modern ones, though some were similar I'm sure. This site has some, but I've lost my better one. In short, most curses had something to do with God, and insulting someone's parentage was a very serious offence.
6. Father Izecson is actually Ricardo Izecson dos Santos Leite, commonly known as Kaka. I would have called him Ricardo as well, but trust me, that's confusing.
7. Pedro Leon played for Real Madrid in the 2010/11 season. He has since been loaned back to Getafe. I'd mention what position he plays, but mainly that seems to be the bench, so.... His wiki provides basic information as well.
8. Pedro Leon is a whipping boy in this story. The concept is English, and I'm inferring the long standing alliance between England and Portugal would have made the transfer of concepts possible.
9. Miscellaneous information about subjects from the Renaissance, architecture, household organization, and clothing can be found at various locations.
10. Finally, the inspiration for this fic is located here . It's from Real Madrid's Copa del Rey victory celebration.
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