Catalan Holiday Part 3
Cross posted to dirrty_broccoli
TITLE: Catalan Holiday (or What Did Stephen Get up to When Let Loose On Shore in Catalunya Unsupervised?) Part 3
AUTHOR: ozfille
RATING: Mostly NC-17
FANDOM: Master & Commander (Book rather than Film)
PAIRING: Stephen/Miquel (Male OOC)
WARNINGS/SPOILERS: One or two scenes in Master & Commander, the Novel. Major warning, there is one scene in Part 3 that some may find extremely blasphemous and the concept of a RC priest having sex with a man throughout may offend others. Don’t read if it is likely to offend.
DISCLAIMER: The following is a work of fiction. It never happened. The author makes no money from it.
They were preparing for bed when Stephen asked, “You said your mother preferred that you be married with children. Is it possible she saw that the priesthood was not right for you? Knew that was not where your true happiness lay? I don’t wish to …” More diffidently he continued, “Are women so odious to you? Do you have no sense of enjoyment when you are with them? If you had married a woman who was not overly interested in that aspect of marriage …” He stopped when Miquel glared at him.
“No Esteve that would not have been possible. What are you suggesting? That I take a wife I don’t want and for who I have no sexual desire, marry her under false pretences, sire the requisite number of children for form’s sake and live another life on the side, use young boys whoring themselves in the street to gain sexual relief. No that would be far more deceitful than what I do now. Would you, if you were me?” He stared at Stephen challenging him to answer.
“No, no, I would not. I’m sorry. I should not …” Stephen stopped and shook his head, “I should not have said anything. Let’s go to bed.”
They undressed and got into bed. Stephen now he was in the bed was nervous. Miquel had not asked but … Miquel touched his face and whispered, “Esteve can I make love to you? Will you let me?”
Stephen stared back at him for a minute and nodded, “Yes. We will need …”
Miquel smiled and drew Stephen to him and kissed him, “It’s all right Stephen. I have some oil. I will be careful.”
“Oil? Not …” Stephen spluttered, in shock.
Miquel bit his lips and almost laughed, “Yes my dear doctor, to ease my way. It is advisable and yes it is the chrism and what more holy vessel to anoint than your sweet body. I would anoint you there, will enjoy it immensely. Is it not a holy act to love another, as I love you? I would think the sacramental oil is most appropriate.”
Stephen tried to look severe but then laughed, “You know my dear Miquel you have committed the most awful blasphemy.”
“As if it worried you that much and I intend to commit even more sins on that body of yours,” Miquel laughed and pulled Stephen close to his body and started to rub his body against him. “Come let me get you out of this shirt.”
He pulled Stephen’s nightshirt off and removed his own. Stephen could see Miquel was already erect and reached out to hold him, feeling the smooth skin of his cock twist and writhe in response to his first tentative touches. Miquel moaned, “If you touch me too much there my dear, I shall come before I can pleasure you.” He bent and kissed Stephen and began to caress him, sliding and rubbing his body against him.
Stephen pushed him back and made him lie down on the bed, “No you are much too aroused. I shall relieve a little of your tension with my hand … or if you wish … my mouth. Then we can continue in a more leisurely manner. If I am to be made love to by you, I would prefer it not to be rushed.”
Miquel eagerly assented and watched avidly as Stephen bent to kiss his cock and trembled with anticipation as he saw his pink tongue dart out to lick him, groaning at that first swipe and pushing his hips up. Stephen looked up at him and holding Miquel’s cock at its base bent to it again and began to lick its length thoroughly, coating it with saliva, as his hands drifted down and held and squeezed his balls gently. Miquel groaned and began to thrust, wanting more and Stephen opened his mouth and attempted to take as much of his cock as possible into his mouth, sucking him and then withdrawing from him his tongue twirling around the tip of his penis and then plunged down again, taking more of him and so continued till Miquel was beyond all control and thrust deep into his throat and released, slumping back onto the bed, gasping and murmuring his name, “Esteve, Esteve, love you .. your mouth … your body… stay please stay with me.”
Stephen crawled up to lean over Miquel and kissed him and whisper, “No my love I can not but I will be with you for this night. I can promise nothing more.”
Miquel pulled him down and kissed his mouth, his eyes, his cheeks and then nibbling at his ear lobes he licked and kissed his way down Stephen’s neck and twisting around settled his body on top of him, his hands gliding up and down Stephen’s torso rubbing his body against the smaller man’s, beginning to feel the first stirrings of Stephen’s erection. He lifted off him and a little to the side so that he could kiss and caress more of Stephen’s body. Nuzzling now at his nipples, he slipped his hands down to caress Stephen’s cock and thighs, his mouth following the path of his hands and then up again, kissing Stephen tenderly, looking at his face and revelling in the excitement and unfeigned pleasure that he saw there.
His own cock was now recovered and he felt it stir, excitement building again as he bent and whispered into Stephen’s ear, “Esteve a holy miracle, you will experience the second coming of Miquel.”
Despite his excitement and arousal, Stephen lay back and groaned and attempted to swat Miquel, “That was a miserable and blasphemous attempt at humour. Even Jack would not attempt such levity. I may reconsider …”
Miquel whispered urgently, “No, no … please Esteve no, let me please.”
Stephen looked at him and recognised his desperation, his desire for him and his heart softened, “All right… my dear … all right … so desperate … yes, I’m still willing.” He pulled Miquel’s head down and kissed him, his tongue duelling with his and Miquel recommenced his journey down Stephen’s body, revisiting all the places that had been nibbled, licked, sucked, squeezed and pinched, his whole being shot through with joy to hear Stephen’s gasps and groans of pleasure and to feel the urgency of his hands on his body. By the time he had finished sucking, petting, squeezing and tasting his cock and balls, Stephen was writhing under him, no longer capable of refusal. He reached down to his bag and brought out the small phial and sat up. Stephen opened his eyes and watched Miquel smooth the sacramental oil along the length of his cock. His tongue flickered in and out, licking his lips his face displaying all too clearly his arousal at the sight.
Miquel then bent down and kissed him again, whispering in his ear, “And now for you my love. May I?”
Stephen nodded, lifting his hips and Miquel placed his fingers at that puckered opening, gently massaging at first, seeking to relax him while coating the outer surface thoroughly. Slowly he inched one finger into his body, feeling the pull and squeeze of the muscles surrounding it, gradually pushing deeper, watching Stephen’s face for any sign of fear or pain. Stephen was breathing loudly his eyes wide and staring but no hint of rejection there, his body still jerking with arousal, his cock now red, engorged and weeping clear fluid. Miquel bent down and quickly lapped at it, causing Stephen to groan and thrust up. Miquel then took his penis into his mouth sucking it hard and fast, the motion the same rhythm as his finger now moving in and out of Stephen. The combined actions of mouth and finger excited him and he pushed and strained against him until he released into Miquel’s mouth. Miquel smiled as he felt the tension ease from him and the muscles relax and slipped in another finger and started to push in harder and further and knew he had hit the sweet spot when he saw Stephen’s eyes open and his mouth round, “Oh, yes, oh more there, yes there.” He muttered and Miquel obliged increasing the pace. When he thought Stephen was ready he lifted his legs over his shoulders and holding his oiled cock at the tight little orifice, looked at Stephen again. “Esteve?” He was trembling now with the tension, he longed to plunge into him, but would not, would wait for permission. Stephen nodded and reached up to cover Miquel’s right hand clasping his hip, “Yes, Miquel push into me. I’m ready.”
The absolute smooth, glorious, slow glide into Stephen’s body drew gasps from Miquel as he sank further into that tight, smooth passage pulsating and so hot wrapped around his cock. Miquel threw his head back wanting to cry out his pleasure but bit down, knowing he must remain quiet. Stephen was staring at him wide-eyed and overcome with these new sensations. He pushed all the way in brushing that place that shot waves of pleasure through Stephen’s body. Stephen gasped and his body jerked. Miquel looked down at him concerned, no not pain, pleasure, yes pleasure there on Stephen’s face and then he felt Stephen’s hips move, he began to undulate against him, biting his lips to try to stop from expressing the absolute ecstasy generated by the hot darts of sensation shooting through his body from that place as Miquel moved inside him. The sense of fullness, the feel of this man’s cock filling him, stretching him was astonishing and beyond anything he had experienced. He felt totally vulnerable and open to this man and the pleasure and pain he could inflict, nothing like the usual experience of lovemaking. The yearning to reach out and communicate with Miquel so important now as he willed him to look at him, see him. Miquel stared at him, their eyes meeting each man naked to the other in their need and vulnerability. The momentum of Miquel’s thrusts increased and with it the pleasure overcame both as Miquel leaned down to devour Stephen’s mouth, his tongue thrusting deep into his mouth as they both came. Stephen feeling the convulsive jerks of Miquel’s cock spurting warm cum, coating him inside as he felt his own release sticky and warm on his stomach and Miquel still thrusting against him. Miquel then lay still gasping and sobbing Stephen glided his hands up and down his back. He too was overwhelmed but calmer than Miquel. He held him tight and kissed his cheek, lifted his face and kissed him, lapping up the tears from his cheeks. As he did so the candle finally guttered out and Miquel relaxed into Stephen’s arms feeling them soothe him, listening to him murmuring comforting nonsense sounds to him, the sounds you make to a fretting child. The darkness comforted him too, just the feel and smell of Stephen surrounding him, everything he needed, “So good, so good.” Miquel murmured. He slept.
Stephen lay there listening to Miquel’s even steady breathing, thinking about what he had just experienced. This felt totally raw, blistering him with the fire and passion generated. This was exciting in a way he had never felt with a woman. With a woman he felt self-contained, in control and yes powerful, part of the release was in the sense of power he felt, but this, this was totally different. Better even? No, he shook his head, just different. The feeling of vulnerability and of being opened up, pierced, his bodily integrity broached. He would never have imagined that he would want to experience that, but he was puzzled at how it had excited him. At the same time, it demanded more, so much more. You can’t close your eyes when this was happening to you, you needed to see, communicate, feel with your lover and share your sensations with him. How many times have I shut my eyes when making love to a woman, totally self-contained, enjoying the ecstasy of release but not sharing it with her, concentrating on my own pleasure? How selfish it seems now. Will I do this again? Yes, probably. With Miquel, certainly on the rest of our journey I will be his, but after… No, I must leave, but who else would I … The image of Jack lying on top of him flashed into his mind. He quashed it as quickly as it appeared. No, that is not permitted. Jack certainly would have no interest in that sort of thing. No best to not think about it. Stephen snorted with derision and murmured, “Am I doing the same as Miquel? I may not become a priest but I’m avoiding dealing with this newly discovered desire in the same way. But then there seems no place in this world for such desires, not legally any way.” He sighed and kissed Miquel, feeling his softened cock slipping from him. “Wake up Miquel. Move a little, your weight is crushing me.” Miquel muttered and moved off of him and Stephen sighed as he stretched his legs and moved on to his side, Miquel’s arms coming around him and he pressed his body to him and slept.
The next morning Stephen was roused by Miquel, planting fervid kisses on his mouth and cheeks and eyelids and chin and threatening movement further south. Stephen opened his eyes and muttered, “For the love of God were you not satisfied last night? You are insatiable.” Miquel laughed and sat up and then dived down to kiss his stomach and began to lick it. Stephen squirmed, “Now what are you doing?”
“Licking dried cum off your stomach. It tastes better coming hot and fresh from you though,” answered Miquel between licks. He then bent to Stephen’s cock licking the length of it, back and forward, two or three times.
“Stop that will you. We have to get up in a little while,” Stephen tried to dislodge him.
Miquel giggled, “You’ll be up long before then, I forecast. Are you always so grumpy in the morning?”
“That is why I make an awful lover. I am not human until I drink my first cup of coffee in the morning. Let go of me now,” Stephen muttered, hitting Miquel on his shoulders.
“I was just helping clean you up after last night and this is my thanks. Let me just lick a little further down, your leaking me all over the place.” With that he lifted Stephen’s legs and licked from his balls, all along the cleft and back, giving a quick peck to the tip of his cock and sat up smiling at Stephen.
Stephen sat up to forestall any other loving assaults on his body, shaking his head. “What shall I do with you? You are absolutely impossible.”
“It’s all those years of pent-up frustration and longing. I have to taste you, feel you, possess as much of you as I can, before you run away from me again.” With that the insouciant defiance disappeared and his face dropped and he looked down, now glum at the thought of Stephen gone from his life again.
Stephen sighed and kissed him, “I’m not running away from you, I’m just returning to my duty, a duty that I am honour-bound to fulfil. At least until peace breaks out.”
“And you are about to remind me that I am a priest again and of my vows. I would leave the church if you would stay with me, Esteve.” He implored him.
Stephen smiled and shook his head, “No, Miquel, you know I can’t stay. I’m not telling you to go back to the Church but I can’t promise you I will be back and if I do come back that we can be together. I cannot promise you that. Just let me love you until I have to go, that I can promise you.” He kissed him on the cheek and got up off the bed and went over to the wash-stand and began to wash himself.
The day was spent rediscovering the city. First they walked to the Generalitat to view the council chambers, admiring the artesonado ceiling of the Salón Dorado and to view the azulejos and frescoes of the Gran Salón de las Cortes Valencianos. Miquel bent close to Stephen’s ear and murmured, “How long before the council of the comunitat sits here again? How long will you be willing to wait till we can rule ourselves again, Esteve?”
“Better that as many of us, as possible survive to see it Miquel,” Stephen replied and walked out of the room and from the building into the sunshine.
They continued down Calle Caballeros to the Plaza de la Virgen and stopped to look at the assembled crowd near the Portada de los Apóstoles, surrounding eight black-clad men sitting at a table. Stephen turned to Miquel, a question on his lips.
“It is the Tribunal de las Aguas. Every Thursday at noon they meet to settle disputes relating to the Huerta’s irrigation water from the eight canals. They have sat here every Thursday since 960, in the time of Caliph Abd ar-Rahman III of Cordoba. The proceedings are never written down, nor is there any appeal.”
“What is the usual fine or sentence?”
Miquel shrugged, “Deprivation of water for a varying amount of time is the usual punishment these days. There used to be monetary fines in lliures valencianes, when we had our own currency, not the Castellano coins. It is the fairest way to ensure all the farmers can share the water equally. The only form of self-government we have left to us.” They walked past the Cathedral to the Basilica de Nuestra Señora de los Desamparados and the statue of the Virgin, “Yes, she is well named our Virgin, our patron saint, Our Virgin of the Abandoned. She was supposedly made by angels.” He added with a cynical smile.
Stephen smiled and replied, “You are a priest Miquel, aren’t you supposed to believe in such things?”
They skirted around the cathedral to the Plaza de la Reina and Miquel’s eyes lit up and he laughed, “I’ll beat you up to the top of Micalet. The one who loses buys the horchatas.” He sprinted into the Cathedral with Stephen on his heels. They ran up the spiral staircase, puffing and jostling each other but Miquel having the longer legs easily reached the top of the octagonal tower and smiled as he leant against the wall grinning in triumph.
“Unfair, you’ve got longer legs than me,” Stephen gasped, completely winded by the two hundred step marathon.
“No, you’re going to have to buy the horchatas and see what a gift I bring. If I hadn’t tempted you up here you would have missed the view. Magnificent isn’t she, my Valencia,” he swept his right arm in a broad arc.
Stephen now he nearly had his breath back gazed out over the gleaming ceramic domes across Valencia’s medieval walls out across the Huerta rolling out in all directions, a green and gold patchwork, bounded in the west by the hazy darker blue of the sierras and to the east by the azure Mediterranean. The green orchards and brilliant golden rice fields had been the source of the city’s wealth for centuries. He nodded in agreement and Miquel draped his arm around his shoulders drawing him close and kissed his cheek.
They walked down the steps and out of the Cathedral at a more sedate pace and crossed the plaza and down Calle de la Paz to Plaza de Santa Catalina entering an old and venerable horchatería. Miquel called out to the proprietor, “Good morning En Bartomeu, some horchata and fartons please.”
“So when are we meeting Josep?” Stephen asked, after sipping on his chilled horchata.
“We’ll meet him at the Lonja . He’s working for Feliu Llimona, a wealthy silk merchant.” Miquel snorted, “One of those merchants your Captain has stolen from.”
“Then I must be a pirate too,” Stephen replied. “I am allocated a share of the booty.”
“Don’t tell that to Josep, he might not be too happy. He suffers his employer’s wrath every time he hears of another loss to that pirate.”
Stephen reached out for another farton and munched it with relish. Miquel laughed again, “You are certainly enjoying your food these days.”
“I am like a squirrel, gorging on food while I can. In preparation for the lean times to come.”
“They don’t feed you enough on that boat of yours?”
“It’s a sloop Miquel, a sloop. They are very particular with the nomenclature of their craft in the Royal Navy I find. Yes they feed me but though the food is filling and reasonably wholesome enough it is rather … Let me say that salted beef or pork and dried peas and hard tack may provide enough sustenance to maintain life but it is certainly not a gourmand’s delight. I will say nothing of the glutinous and quite extraordinary nature of the English pudding.”
“You must be a rich man now Esteve, considering the amount of valuable cargo and the number of ships that your captain has captured in the last few months.”
Stephen looked vague, “Perhaps I am, my dear. I have no idea how much it entails. I just arrange for the prize agent to lodge whatever my share is with my banker. He has an agent in Mahon so it’s all quite simple. I must get the full details of my account one day. I should approach an agent here in Valencia and withdraw some money to repay Tomas’ loan.”
“Oh God, the same old Esteve. You’ve never had a head for money. The prize agent could be robbing you blind and you wouldn’t know it.”
“No, no, Jack ensures that it is all above board. I’m sure everything is all quite in order.”
“I hope so. How do you know you can trust this Jack of yours?”
This time Stephen looked angry and snapped back, “Of course I can. Jack is one of the most honest men I know. Please don’t talk like that of him Miquel. You don’t know anything about him.”
“I’m sorry. I suppose I am just jealous of him. You spout that it is your duty and you are honour bound to return to your ship. I say it is your love for him that draws you back. You defend him quite fiercely. There was no such desire to see me that drew you back home.” This said, with an extraordinary degree of bitterness as Miquel stared out the open doorway, refusing to meet Stephen’s eyes.
Stephen sighed, “Don’t Miquel, don’t go down this path. My friendship with you and my relationship with him are quite different. There is no need for jealousy. Can’t I love you both?”
“But it is he that will have you with him and I’ll be left alone again.”
“I should not have submitted to you last night. I did so … because …” Stephen bent his head trying to sift through all the reasons that influenced his decision but found none that would appeal to Miquel.
“You can’t even tell me why? Was it a parting gift, Esteve?” Miquel snarled, ripping a farton into small pieces and crumbling it.
“Yes, it was a gift, a gift of trust and of love. I have been honest with you Miquel. I have given you no false promises.”
“No, that would be too much for you it seems.” He angrily pushed away his plate.
“Miquel I was totally unaware of your true feelings for me, until just a few days ago. Do you expect me to …” Stephen angry himself now, pushed his chair back and was about to walk out.
“No, Esteve, don’t go. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have spoken so. Please stay.” Miquel called quickly.
He sat back down but with a determined look on his face. “Miquel if we are to travel together, you must understand this. I will be returning to my ship and I can give you no promise that I shall return in the foreseeable future. Your recriminations and your anger and jealousy of Jack will not change this. It only makes the very short time we can have together unpleasant. Can you not accept what I am willing to give and in the spirit it is meant? You are one of my oldest and dearest friends. You know that I would not wish to hurt you, so please let us enjoy our brief sojourn. There is no certainty in life, you know this. Please …” Stephen laid his arm on the table, the palm of his hand upward, a mute appeal.
Miquel looked at him and reached out and clasped his hand and brought it to his lips and kissed it. “Yes, I’m sorry. We’ll not speak of this again.”
“It would be better spoken in private, at least. Come, shall we go? We should go and see Josep.” He lay down some coins to pay and walked out. Miquel followed him and they walked in silence to the Plaza del Mercado and to the Lonja de la Seda. Miquel asked for Señor Soler i Faneca. They were both shown into the Jardin de Los Naranjos to wait for him.
A short, rotund little man, prematurely balding bustled down the staircase. He looked down and seeing the two of them seated on the wall of the ornamental fountain at the centre of the courtyard raised his hand in greeting, “Esteve, Miquel so good to see you.”
He clasped each to him and smiled, looking very pleased with himself. “I’ve been expecting you Esteve. I have a message for you.”
Stephen raised an eyebrow and Miquel scowled, “Shhh! Just don’t blurt it out here where anyone could hear you. Can you come with us now? Are you engaged or can you come to dine with us?”
“Most certainly, most certainly. Shall we go to my place? Mama will certainly have something prepared. Enough for three at least, come now. It’s just a short walk, beyond San Martin. How are you Esteve?”
“Very well my dear Josep and you look quite prosperous,” Stephen replied.
“Yes, reasonably so, reasonably so … but with that damned pirate due back on the coast in a few weeks time, we’ll be looking for some other ports to get some of our stock transported. Thank God one of our ships made it in this morning. I am partner now you know with Señor Llimona.”
“A partner now, Josep, so then I shall be calling on you soon as a wealthy businessman to make some contribution to our Holy Mother Church or some other worthy cause.” Miquel smiled.
Josep looked at him warily. “I do enough for the cause, believe me.”
“But then there can never be enough, don’t you agree in such an important cause,” Miquel smiled.
“You won’t get round me with your wily priest’s ways Miquel. Are you sure you were trained by the Benedictines? I would swear you got most of your training from the Jesuits.”
Josep ushered them into his house, leading them into the dining room and went in search of his mother. The house was a typical merchant’s house, perhaps not as ancient or as venerable as Miquel’s but considered perfectly respectable and was richly furnished, if not in the latest fashion. Stephen walked around surveying the room, the family portraits and asked, “Josep has not married?”
Miquel laughed, “He is very attached to his mother or should I say she is to him. No girl has yet met with her approval, though lord knows Josep has tried.”
Stephen shook his head and snorted and then smiled to greet the lady herself as she entered the room with Josep following her. She held her hand out to Miquel, “Father Miquel how nice to see you again? It has been too long.” She turned and smiled, less warmly now, “And this is?”
“Mother, as I told you this is Esteve Maturin i Domanova, an old school friend from Barcelona.”
“Oh yes, I do remember now. Charmed I’m sure.” She looked distantly at him. Yes she remembered him now. A bastard son of an Irish soldier and that foolish spoilt young chit of a girl. Noble blood he may have but he was not quite the thing.
Stephen bowed gravely, “Madame.”
She turned to Miquel, “I won’t be dining with you. I’m feeling somewhat poorly and will dine in my room. Please make yourselves comfortable. The girl will bring some wine and the food will soon be ready. Good day to you Miquel, Señor Maturin.” She turned and left the room.
Miquel muttered “Thank God for that.”
Josep looked apologetic, “I’m sorry Esteve. Mother can be difficult sometimes.”
Stephen waved his hand signifying it did not concern him. The maid servant arrived with the wine and they all sat down. Stephen turned to Josep, “You said you had a message for me.”
“Oh yes, a courier arrived at the Lonja with a note for me and a message from the Lord Abbot of Monserrat for you. I was certainly surprised when I saw his seal. He has asked me to inform you that he will be in residence at the Castillo at Peñíscola for the next week and wishes you to wait on him during this time, if it is convenient.” Josep looked searchingly at him. “Esteve what have you been up to that His Excellency wishes to speak with you?”
“Nothing as far as I am aware. Perhaps Bishop Cebrián has been in contact with him about me. I cannot see the reason why? I have only promised to deliver a message to the English. That is all.”
Miquel was scowling at him again, “Is that so Esteve?”
Stephen sighed and answered rather tartly, “Yes Miquel that is all.”
At this point the girl returned with a large platter, heaped high with Paella Valenciana. Josep brightened at the sight of the food, rubbing his hands together, “Good girl, Assumpció. Just put it in the middle, we’ll serve ourselves. Some fresh bread and another bottle of wine my dear. Well gentlemen, please help yourselves; don’t let it get cold.”
Miquel shovelled spoonfuls of saffron rice, snails, fried chicken and rabbit and vegetables onto his plate with relish. “Better than your Barcelona concoction Esteve. This is the true paella.”
Stephen nodded as he was passed the serving spoon and served a smaller portion for himself, to cries of, “More, take more Esteve. You must have more…” from both Josep and Miquel.
“I shall be as prosperous looking as you dear Josep if I continue to eat as I have over the last few days.” Stephen laughed as he added another piece of rabbit and some snails and more rice and vegetables to the pile on his plate.
“You mean fat, I know Esteve. It’s just living at home with Mother she does tend to get the girls to cook a lot of food. I always did like my food, a little too much, unfortunately.” Saying this as he proceeded to move a little hillock of paella onto his own plate. “And you’ll never be fat Esteve.”
Quiet reigned as the men attacked their food with relish. Stephen was the first to stop eating and he sat back drinking his wine while the others continued to eat. They all sat back and sipped their wine, Stephen answering Josep’s enquiries as to whether he was married and what he was doing, his prospects. Miquel sat listening, his eyes widened with interest when Stephen mentioned a sea-captain.
Josep’s mouth opened wide, he stared at Stephen dumbstruck, “You are with the English? No, Esteve, you are not with that … thief … that brigand who steals from all of us. Please say you are not.”
“I am the ship’s surgeon and yes it is true.”
Josep looked from side to side, his hands clenched into fists and he was literally shaking, “Do you know how much money you and your Captain have cost me these last few months? Insurance, crippling insurance costs. We are literally uninsurable, let alone the cargos and ships he has stolen and plundered. How could you Esteve? If you were not such an old friend, I would …. Yes I would report you to the … No, no I … Esteve why did you have to become a pirate? Wasn’t being a doctor enough for you? Or were you killing all your patients so you tried your hand at some new crime? Why couldn’t you be a pirate in the Caribbean? Why don’t you steal from the French, they’re rich. Why steal from your poor countrymen?” Miquel found this highly amusing. “And why are you laughing? This isn’t funny.”
“Josep, Josep, Esteve was desperate. He was penniless, marooned on Menorca. He had to find some sort of work and the English captain was happy to take him on board. I’m sure he takes no delight in ruining your business or any other merchants. He’s just there as a doctor. Anyway he’s on our side; he’s going to help us get support from the English and think of the riches that will fall into your lap if you can trade directly with the English.”
Josep’s expression changed immediately, “Esteve, you know the English, you’ve lived there. What do you think the market for silk would be in England? I’ve heard there are so many rich people in England what with their colonies expanding again. Huge numbers growing fat on trade, it would be a heaven sent opportunity if our business could get in first.” His eyes literally glittered at the prospect.
“I would not know Josep. There is an expanding group of wealthy people to be sure and so I assume there is an expanding group of wealthy ladies who would be quite pleased to buy your silks for the right price.” Stephen responded soothingly, regretting his mention of Jack or his nautical activities. Once the prospect of potential riches to be gained had settled sufficiently into a belief in their near certitude, Josep settled back and amiably chatted of his business and his abortive attempts at finding a wife.
The afternoon stretched on until the sounding of the clock chimes in the hallway told them it was four. Josep immediately jumped up and checking his watch to verify the time, said, “I must be off. I have to get back to the Exchange. Business to transact, we are not all gentlemen of leisure you know, unlike some footloose priests gallivanting around the countryside and …” A slight frown as he considered what he was to say about Esteve but the wine had its effect and he burst out, “And bloody marooned pirates who have no better things to do than to ruin their fellow countrymen’s businesses.” He shook both their hands, kissed each and was off.
They both followed him out of the house and saw him rushing up the street, puffing and short of breath. The wine had affected Miquel as well and he smiled down at Stephen and put his arm around his shoulders, leaning on him slightly, “Who would have believed it, my friend Esteve, a pirate. Will you show me your sword, pirate?” He then bent down and whispered in his ear, “And I’d love to show you mine.”
Esteve shook his head and pushed him off. “I think you already have. You’re as drunk as Josep. Shall we go for a walk along the river? I need to stretch my legs and you need to sober up or …. ?”
“Or what?” Miquel asked and whispered again, “No loving for me tonight, is that what you are threatening Esteve?”
“Well I just prefer you sober to drunk. It’s safer that way, for you and me. Think of your dignity as a priest, at least.”
“When did you become so respectable Esteve? Are you growing old?” Miquel shrugged put his arm back around Stephen’s shoulder and laughed.
“No, I’ve just grown up.” Stephen replied dryly.
They wandered out via the gate between the Torres de Serranos and followed the path along the Turia which was running low, a mere rill flowing fitfully in the middle of its broad, rocky bed, still waiting for the autumnal rains to revive its flow. When they reached the western gate they re-entered the city and returned to Miquel’s house and spent the afternoon and the evening playing chess. Miquel’s game, aggressive and prone to alternately mad or inspired moves but with a tendency to underestimate his opponent and Stephen was not to be underestimated and through a few carefully calculated feints and sacrifices of his rook and a bishop was within one move of declaring check. Too late, Miquel saw the danger to his King, but Stephen had foreseen that move and had a countermove prepared and was waiting to declare the game his. He waited patiently as Miquel frowned at the board trying to work out a way to extricate his King. Eventually after much grimacing, plotting and muttering he threw up his hands, “I am yours, you can call mate and I will yield.” A sly grin then crossed his face, “And I might even yield to you this night when you mate with me.”
Stephen groaned, “Why am I fated to be surrounded by men who take such enjoyment in the most meagre crumbs of wit? You are as bad as Jack and yes I declare check and mate.”
Miquel laughed and lunged at him and kissed him. “Yes my love and can I take you to bed now and mate with you?”
“Is there any point in resisting?” Stephen asked.
“No, none whatsoever, I have you in my power Esteve and you must yield,” he kissed him again and laughed, releasing him when Constança entered the room with a tray for their supper. “Thank you Constança, that will be all for the night. Esteve will we be staying in Valencia tomorrow?”
Stephen shook his head, “No, I must make my way to Peñíscola as soon as possible to wait on the Lord Abbot and I would like to see Sagunto.”
“We can stay tomorrow night at the Carmelite Monastery of Desierto de las Palmas and it will be an easy ride to Peñíscola the next day. It is quite beautiful, peaceful there and on the clearest days you can see the Columbretes far out to sea. I went on a retreat there once. It was very useful, calming to me when I first became a priest.” Miquel looked thoughtful now.
Stephen smiled and patted his hand, “Then of course we shall stay there. Would you prefer to stay a day or two there? I will go on to Peñíscola alone and you can meet me there a day or two later and we will push on for Tortosa and Tarragona.”
“No, I’d rather go with you to your meeting with the Lord Abbot. Do you think he will allow me to come with you to your audience with him?”
“I do not know. We shall see.”
“We’ll have a long ride tomorrow and we should leave early. Constança please wake us at sunrise, we will have to be on our way soon after.”
She made her bob and left the room wishing them a good night. Stephen picked at the food, not feeling very hungry and sipped his coffee and looked searchingly at Miquel who quite happily polished off what was on his plate.
Miquel looked at his plate and then up to Stephen, “You’re not hungry Esteve?” And to Stephen’s swift negation smiled at him again and said, “But I would have you strong and ready this evening?”
“What have you in mind? As if, I didn’t know,” Stephen snorted.
Miquel bent close to nuzzle his neck and whispered, “Shall we go to bed Esteve? Then you’ll find out.”
As they got into bed, Miquel was serious for a moment, “And why were you looking at me like that this evening, Esteve? A look that seemed to me as if you wanted to dig every secret from my wretched soul.”
Stephen sighed again, “Perhaps I do Miquel. Perhaps I do. I … I worry when I am gone … Your commitment to the Church and what we have done these last few nights … I’m afraid this will cause you such regret, such remorse … I know you to be a good man, I would not see you ….”
Miquel pulled Stephen into his arms, “My soul, my vocation, my commitment to the Church is my affair, my responsibility. You have merely given me what I have asked of you. Don’t seek to take responsibility for me or my decisions! All I want tonight is to be with you, as I’ve always wanted it to be. When I’m with you, I am not a priest, I am your lover and always will be, even if … Just let me love you Esteve, just let me love you now.” He pulled back searching Stephen’s face and with one finger lightly outlined Stephen’s lips, delicate tracings along the sensitive flesh. “I adore you Esteve. I always have. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted and there is no one else for me. Just give me this short time together. I ask for no assurances that you will return, I will live for today, experience you and love you now. I don’t care for tomorrow. Just let me love you.”
Stephen’s lips opened and he began to suck on Miquel’s fingertips, returning his gaze, absorbed in it. Miquel pulled him close licking and tasting his lips, pressing harder, asking for surrender. A surrender Stephen willingly gave, his passion responding to Miquel’s. They lay now, on their sides their arms wrapped around each other, their legs entangled and kissing passionately, the only sounds the liquid soft sounds of their kisses and their sighs of pleasure as they stroked each other, building the fire, the tension. Miquel turned Stephen and spooned himself against his back, reaching round and massaging his penis, kissing and sucking as much of his skin as he could, lapping at a nipple, tugging and nibbling on his earlobe, whispering his love for him. Stephen overwhelmed with pleasure pushed back against him, softly pleading for Miquel to enter him. Miquel dipped his fingers in the phial, coating them with oil and pierced Stephen, gazing down at him as he began a steady, internal massage, enraptured as he watched Stephen’s response to him, his muscles now atremble waiting, waiting and a slow smile broadened as Stephen squirmed in his arms and he heard his ever-more urgent pleas to be taken. He then slicked his cock and pushed in slowly, so slowly exulting in the hot and tight passage shuddering around him, the muscles dilating and tightening in waves, surrounding him with pleasure and driving him to a blinding orgasm, gasping and crying, “Esteve, my love, my sweet love, my only love. Love you, love you.” He showered Stephen’s face with kisses as Stephen released into his hand, crying out his passion in a tumble of incoherent words and phrases. He petted and massaged him, kissing and laving his cheeks, whispering, “Sleep Esteve, sleep my dear.” He settled down behind him, holding him until Stephen slept. Once he knew he was asleep he kissed the nape of Stephen’s neck, licking and tasting him, rubbing his body against his back as if he was trying to absorb him into his very being, whispering, “So precious my love, how will I ever let you go from me?” He buried his face in Stephen’s neck smelling and tasting his skin, desperate to experience every sensation he could with his lover’s body. He pushed himself as far as possible inside Stephen and settled down to sleep, caressing his chest and stomach.
Morning came all too quickly with a very confused Constança, standing over him, shaking his shoulder, “Sir, it’s time to get up sir.”
Miquel lifted his head from Stephen’s neck, “Yes, yes, we’ll be up and around in a minute. Please go see to our breakfast. Thank you.”
Stephen roused by Miquel’s voice opened his eyes with a start. He could feel Miquel’s cock still inside him and knew they were not covered and knew she would have seen quite clearly their physical joining. “Miquel, that girl, she’s seen us. Will she say anything to anyone?”
“I don’t think so. I’ll talk to her. It’ll be all right.” He kissed Stephen’s shoulder and pulled out of him. He got out of bed, hurriedly washed and dressed himself, urging Stephen to hurry and went downstairs to the kitchen to talk to Constança. Stephen, after washing and dressing, collected their things and carried them down to the dining room. Constança greeted him but with a degree of reserve that had not been there the day before and Stephen looked at Miquel who shrugged his shoulders.
They ate their meal in silence and after farewelling Constança, went to their horses, saddled and prepared by the stable boy. They nodded their farewells to him and made their way through the misty and very quiet streets to the gate below the Torres de Serranos and headed north. Stephen looked pinched and miserable. At last he turned to Miquel, “What did she say?”
Miquel shrugged, “Nothing, she wouldn’t talk about what she saw and I was hardly going to force the issue.”
“Will she tell your parents?”
“No, no she wouldn’t. She knows it would hurt them.”
“Would she tell others?”
“She is not a girl to gossip normally. No, I’m fairly sure she wouldn’t as she would know it would get back to my parents. Are you worried about your reputation, Esteve?” He asked coldly.
“No, I’m more worried for your reputation. You are a priest, you must be seen to …”
“Don’t worry about it Esteve. Don’t let it spoil your day or our time together with fruitless worrying. Look how glorious the day has become,” he cried as they trotted their horses along the long flat strand. The sky was a deep azure, the sea reflecting it back, a few white fluffy clouds scudded eastwards, the seabirds, startled by their horses whirled around them, the gulls making a raucous din. Inland they could make out figures working among the orange trees in the groves that stretched all along this part of the coast. They were pruning the branches of the trees in preparation for winter. Stephen’s mood brightened as the sun rose higher and warmer and the breeze swung around onshore, refreshing them and their horses so they made good time and turned inland to reach Sagunto just after one.
They made their way through the old Jewish quarter up to the ruined Roman Theatre and then finally to the acropolis in the upper part of Sagunto. Miquel glancing at Stephen’s face noted his expression was becoming more grave and severe. They dismounted and sat on the stones of a Roman Temple, Stephen still looking sombre as he gazed across and down the hill at the remains of the ancient town and over the surrounding huerta. Miquel touched his shoulder, “Esteve what worries you?”
Stephen startled by the touch looked at him and shook his head, “Nothing really, just contemplating this city’s past. The blood of these people still flows through Catalan veins and I wonder if they will repeat the mistakes of their ancient forbears. When faced with defeat at the hands of Hannibal, they chose suicide. The women and children, the aged and infirm threw themselves and all their possessions into a bonfire while their menfolk made suicidal sorties against the overwhelming Carthaginian forces surrounding the city. Will modern Catalans make these same fatal, desperate errors of judgements? Is freedom from the Castellanos more important than their lives? It is the one thing that holds me back from …” He shook his head and refused to continue.
Miquel’s eyes flared, “No Esteve, you are wrong. We will be more cunning than that. We will only move when we have the strength of the English behind us and you can help us so much, if you are willing.”
Stephen looked at him steadily, “But can you answer for all the Catalan patriots? There are always firebrands who prefer to go down in the fight for a glorious cause no matter how ill-thought their strategies and they invariably cause the death and destruction of innocents. You overestimate any influence or power I have Miquel. I am merely a ship’s surgeon under the command of a reasonably successful naval commander.”
“The Lord Abbot thinks you’re important enough to see? Why is that Esteve?” Miquel demanded.
Stephen shrugged, “Curiosity, a recommendation from your bishop, knowledge of my connections or my godfather, perhaps. Who can tell his reasons? Come let’s eat and we must be off, we still have many miles between us and Benicasim.”
They reached Castellón de la Plana late in the afternoon, passing the ruins of the old Moorish citadel on La Magdalena hill, the partial remains of the walls backlit by the setting sun. They arrived in the dark at the Carmelite Monastery. The wind rustling the palms, the rhythmic crash of waves on the nearby shore and the faint barking of a distant dog were the only noises disturbing the utter quiet of this place. They were led to individual cells by a member of the order and a bowl of milk and bread was provided and they were left to their individual solitary contemplation. Stephen put out his candle fairly early and was soon fast asleep. Miquel lay in the dark his thoughts centred on Stephen, his mind and body far from serene. He attempted various prayers, spiritual exercises but none answered to calm his agitation. Only loving Stephen, being with him would do that and he despaired when he thought of his leaving him Close to dawn he slipped into a troubled sleep. At dawn Stephen rose and left his cell and the monastery to walk to the sea. The wispy morning mist quickly lifted and he stared out to sea, staring at the islands, shading his eyes from the sunlight. He had heard these islands were a haven for many birds such as Audoin’s gull, Cory’s shearwater and the Eleanora’s falcon. He knew large numbers of birds migrating from Europe to Africa in the autumn used these islands to regain their strength to continue their journey. “There is not enough time,” he murmured. “Perhaps I can persuade Jack to let me ashore there for a few hours.” He was still sitting there looking out to sea when Miquel came in search of him.
Miquel sat down beside him, putting his arm around him, asking, “Couldn’t you sleep? What are you doing here?”
“No, I slept quite well and woke early. I would like to go out to the islands to see for myself the birds that flock there this time of year, but I don’t have the time. We must be on our way to Peñíscola this morning.”
“If you stayed you could go out there as often as you wished,” Miquel said his chin resting on Stephen’s shoulder.
Stephen reached up and caressed his face, “Trying to tempt me Miquel?” Stephen smiled and surveyed his friend’s face and noted the signs of lack of sleep.
“Yes Esteve, I’ll use anything to make you want to stay.” Miquel laughed.
“Miquel you are tired. You have not slept, I can tell. Why not stay here, in the peace and calm and rest and meet me in Peñíscola in a day or two.”
Miquel shook his head, “No, it won’t help. Perhaps I’ll ask to come back here, on retreat once you’ve gone.”
Stephen leant close to him and touched his lips to Miquel’s forehead. “As you wish, come let’s go to breakfast and be on the road, away from temptation.”
“Temptation for you perhaps …” Miquel replied. “My only temptation is sitting beside me.”
“Come along you reprobate and stop your lurid imaginings,” Stephen scoffed and standing, brushed the sand off his clothes and walked toward the monastery, Miquel jumping up to follow him.
They continued their ride along the flat coastline and could easily see, even when they were still many miles south of their destination, the white mass of buildings atop the rugged promontory of Peñíscola, anchored to the mainland by a sandy isthmus. “It reminds me somewhat of Mont St Michel. It appears at this distance, like a white ship afloat on the sea, as if at any moment it would detach itself from the land and float away.”
“A rather romantic piece of prosy from you Esteve, the dedicated logician,” Miquel teased. “It’s quite fitting the Lord Abbot should meet you in a Castillo built by those heretical knights, the Templars and the last residence of the last anti-Pope, Papa Luna. You are continuing in the tradition of the long line of heretics and rebels that have occupied that place.”
“Logician, perhaps, and yet I prefer my explanations to be founded in the reality of the natural world than in the miraculous or supernatural. Does that make me a heretic? I am not immune to the sublime beauty of this world, whether it is the creation of an omniscient and all powerful deity or a glorious accident. I quite approve of Papa Luna. It was he that confirmed the foundation of St Andrew’s University, a fine Scottish institution of learning and promulgated the Statutes of Salamanca University. It is a pity that not more popes or anti-popes for that matter took such an interest in the acquisition of knowledge beyond the merely theological.” Stephen replied.
They reached the walls of the castle just before sunset and were permitted entry after their identities were verified and then taken to rooms prepared for them, given food and drink and asked to wait for the Lord Abbot to summon them. They were both sitting quietly chatting and finishing the last of the wine when a discreet tap at the door and the entrance of a priest made them look up. “Señor Maturin, His Excellency will see you now. Please follow me.” Miquel stood up but was forestalled, “Brother the Lord Abbot will see you after Señor Maturin. You may wait here or in the ante-room if you prefer.” Miquel quickly suppressed a frown and nodded and followed them.
Stephen entered the salon and knelt at the feet of the Lord Abbot to receive his blessing. Standing again he studied the elderly Benedictine, wondering what type of man he was, the strength of his Catalan sympathies and what he would have to say to him.
“Welcome Esteve, welcome home. You are only visiting at the moment but we have hopes that at some time in the future you shall visit us more frequently, acting as a messenger and perhaps an organiser or negotiator for those who would wish to promote Catalan freedom and as someone who can be relied on to oppose the French tyrant. Is this true?”
Stephen nodded guardedly, “I have already told the Bishop of Orihuela that I am considering my position and any possible involvement in the future. I’m sure he has told you of my attitude to Buonaparte. How may I help you? I have already agreed to transmit a message to the British Admiral in the Mediterranean but as I have been informed of a possible peace treaty being signed in the near future, the scope for any immediate action is limited.”
“Yes, yes I am aware of this. No, what I seek is someone I can rely on to act as a reliable, discreet conduit for information between our disparate groups and potential external allies, the British in particular. I, of course will be able to provide privileged information from the Castilian court, only available to me as Lord Abbot of Monserrat. This may prove fruitful to our potential allies. Are you this man?”
“I believe I can fulfil this role. Why are you so eager for Catalan freedom? Or is it more that you would use the burning desire for Catalan freedom among young Catalans like my friend Miquel to organise them to fight Napoleon and that at some point they may become expendable. What then? What is your stake in all this?”
“A cautious man and loyal to your friends, I see. It’s understandable that you may have some suspicions of a man who has such close connections with the Royal court. I also note that some of your mother’s family are as closely linked to the noble houses of Castile. Many of your Castilian cousins serve the King in the government, the army and as diplomats and ambassadors, abroad. So one could say your dedication to Catalan independence might be questioned, though the strong influence of your godfather, En Ramon would save you from most suspicion. You have friends and relatives on both sides, men in powerful positions who might unwittingly help our cause by confiding in you. You are a physician, a man who any community would welcome and you may move from place to place, always sure of a welcome for your skills. You may also act as a sympathetic listener to any confessions induced by the uneasy consciences of men, without the injunction that prevents a priest from revealing the details of those confessions. Your natural caution and circumspection and if I might say your ability to mask your reactions makes you perfect for the role of intermediary.”
Stephen smiled, “Is the purpose of this audience to persuade me to take up this role? I note you do not use the word spy. For that is what I would become in Castilian eyes, a spy for the British.”
“But there are gradations in all worlds. No, I would not call you a spy. You would be a Catalan patriot who would use his intellect, skills and natural aptitude in the collection and coordination of intelligence.”
“I see you are well versed in the arts of diplomacy and persuasion my Lord Abbot but I will make my own decisions. Be assured that if Napoleon threatens Catalunya or I believe that by supporting Catalan independence I will materially weaken the tyrant, I am your man.”
“That is all I can ask. Perhaps we should invite your fervently patriotic brother to join us. Ferdinand, please bring in Brother Miquel.” Miquel came in and knelt before the Lord Abbot and on rising was met with a smile, “My dear Brother Miquel I have heard so much of you, from your Bishop. He tells me great things of your enthusiasm. With such enthusiasm and a stint in the New World you will do well in the Church. How has your journey with Esteve been?”
“Very good sir, I have enjoyed having my old friend back home and showing him the best parts of Valencia.”
“Yes I see you are the fervid patriot that your friend and your Bishop have described to me. You must come to see me at Montserrat, make the pilgrimage and stay at one of the hermitages.”
“My parents are there at the moment to pray to the Holy Virgin. My mother is not well.”
“I shall remember her in my prayers and have a mass said for her. Shall we sit and take tea.” He nodded to Ferdinand. They had, much to Miquel’s frustration a very general conversation about Catalunya and its beauties. He longed to hear what they had discussed before he joined them and was determined to get all the details from Stephen, as soon as he could.
When they made their farewells and returned to their suite of rooms, Miquel burst out, “Well what did you talk about? Please tell me Esteve.”
Stephen shook his head and smiled, “My dear, it wasn’t half as interesting as you might believe. He was merely trying to persuade me to take a more active part in the fight for Catalan freedom.”
“Did he succeed?”
“I answered him, as I answered you. If the time is right and I can see that I can truly make a difference in the movement I will. Now come let us go to bed. I find I’m quite drained.” Esteve kissed his cheek and walked into the bedroom.
There were two beds and Stephen took that one closest to the window. He quickly undressed and got into bed and looked up to see Miquel looking at him steadily. He shook his head, “No Miquel, not here. It’s not safe. We can stay at an inn in Tortosa or at Felipe’s. He’s still living in Tarragona isn’t he?”
“Yes, yes …he is,” Miquel sat down beside Stephen and bent to kiss him. “Esteve I’ve never asked if you ever wanted to … to … I would let you, if you wanted.”
Stephen stared back at him for a little while, considering and said, “Perhaps, but not tonight, Miquel. You did not sleep well last night. Go to your bed, sleep my dear. We have another long ride and day ahead of us.”
So the next morning found them on the road again. They stopped at Vinaroz, a fishing port, some miles north of Peñíscola, so that they could make enquiries of the Sophie’s whereabouts. There was good news that she still had not been sighted and the strong prevailing westerlies would ensure that it would be at least another week more likely two before she could make her way back to the coast. They then turned inland for Tortosa and the Ebro delta. Stephen was eager to get there, to be among the marshland. The delta was rich in birdlife at this time of the year. Miquel was not so pleased considering it a fever-ridden, unhealthy mosquito infested swamp and wondering, not for the first time about Stephen’s obsession with birds. Once they had reached it, Miquel had a hard time moving Stephen along, urging him towards the city before sunset, not wanting to be caught wandering lost among the reed beds in the darkness. His sigh on sighting the bridge spanning the Ebro to Tortosa expressed his relief at escaping the swamp. Stephen looked longingly back down the river, seeing a flight of cranes their white feathers tinged pink by the light of the setting sun, listening to their calls as they swung in an arc and formed the usual v-formation before flying south, south to Africa in their long flight chasing the warmth of the sun.
Miquel’s desires were thwarted again, for on entering the city the first person he should meet was a fellow priest, Pedro Serrano who had completed his theological training with him and urged him and Stephen to lodge at the Episcopal Palace with him. He like Miquel was a secretary to a bishop, the Bishop of Tortosa and was also marked for accelerated progression through the ranks. His family connections ensured it. If they both progressed as expected, they too would one day be bishops.
Miquel introduced him to Stephen and they followed him to the Bishop’s rather grand palace. Stephen was admiring the beauty of the patio, the straight flight of steps occupying the whole of one side of the patio and the slender columns, delicately carved and ornamented that supported the arcades of the gallery while Pedro was talking to Miquel, “The Bishop is visiting his sister in Madrid, so I haven’t had much to do these last few weeks. How is your Bishop, Miquel? I’ve heard he is very easy going, mine … mine is well …less than forgiving if mistakes are made.”
“No, I have an easy time of it, Pedro. He’s let me go off on this little jaunt with Esteve for a few weeks. I think he is glad to have me out of the way for a while. My “enthusiasms”, as he terms them wear him down on occasion.” Miquel laughed.
“Yes, you always were to be found at the centre of the action, now that I recall.” Pedro laughed, “Come Miquel, Esteve I’ll get some rooms prepared for you and then we can have supper.”
The rest of the evening Stephen sat quietly with them listening to them reminisce about their days together at theological college and answering the few questions Pedro had about his friendship and history with Miquel. His mind wandered back to his day spent in the marshes of the Ebro, with great inner satisfaction, mentally cataloguing the types and numbers of birds he had seen that afternoon. He was brought back to the present by Miquel touching his shoulder, “Dreaming again, Esteve? It’s time for bed.”
Stephen smiled up at him, “Merely contemplating the discoveries and pleasures of the day. A truly remarkable number and range of birds, how I wish I had more time?”
“When you come home permanently, there will be plenty of time.” Miquel replied.
Catalan Holiday 4
TITLE: Catalan Holiday (or What Did Stephen Get up to When Let Loose On Shore in Catalunya Unsupervised?) Part 3
AUTHOR: ozfille
RATING: Mostly NC-17
FANDOM: Master & Commander (Book rather than Film)
PAIRING: Stephen/Miquel (Male OOC)
WARNINGS/SPOILERS: One or two scenes in Master & Commander, the Novel. Major warning, there is one scene in Part 3 that some may find extremely blasphemous and the concept of a RC priest having sex with a man throughout may offend others. Don’t read if it is likely to offend.
DISCLAIMER: The following is a work of fiction. It never happened. The author makes no money from it.
They were preparing for bed when Stephen asked, “You said your mother preferred that you be married with children. Is it possible she saw that the priesthood was not right for you? Knew that was not where your true happiness lay? I don’t wish to …” More diffidently he continued, “Are women so odious to you? Do you have no sense of enjoyment when you are with them? If you had married a woman who was not overly interested in that aspect of marriage …” He stopped when Miquel glared at him.
“No Esteve that would not have been possible. What are you suggesting? That I take a wife I don’t want and for who I have no sexual desire, marry her under false pretences, sire the requisite number of children for form’s sake and live another life on the side, use young boys whoring themselves in the street to gain sexual relief. No that would be far more deceitful than what I do now. Would you, if you were me?” He stared at Stephen challenging him to answer.
“No, no, I would not. I’m sorry. I should not …” Stephen stopped and shook his head, “I should not have said anything. Let’s go to bed.”
They undressed and got into bed. Stephen now he was in the bed was nervous. Miquel had not asked but … Miquel touched his face and whispered, “Esteve can I make love to you? Will you let me?”
Stephen stared back at him for a minute and nodded, “Yes. We will need …”
Miquel smiled and drew Stephen to him and kissed him, “It’s all right Stephen. I have some oil. I will be careful.”
“Oil? Not …” Stephen spluttered, in shock.
Miquel bit his lips and almost laughed, “Yes my dear doctor, to ease my way. It is advisable and yes it is the chrism and what more holy vessel to anoint than your sweet body. I would anoint you there, will enjoy it immensely. Is it not a holy act to love another, as I love you? I would think the sacramental oil is most appropriate.”
Stephen tried to look severe but then laughed, “You know my dear Miquel you have committed the most awful blasphemy.”
“As if it worried you that much and I intend to commit even more sins on that body of yours,” Miquel laughed and pulled Stephen close to his body and started to rub his body against him. “Come let me get you out of this shirt.”
He pulled Stephen’s nightshirt off and removed his own. Stephen could see Miquel was already erect and reached out to hold him, feeling the smooth skin of his cock twist and writhe in response to his first tentative touches. Miquel moaned, “If you touch me too much there my dear, I shall come before I can pleasure you.” He bent and kissed Stephen and began to caress him, sliding and rubbing his body against him.
Stephen pushed him back and made him lie down on the bed, “No you are much too aroused. I shall relieve a little of your tension with my hand … or if you wish … my mouth. Then we can continue in a more leisurely manner. If I am to be made love to by you, I would prefer it not to be rushed.”
Miquel eagerly assented and watched avidly as Stephen bent to kiss his cock and trembled with anticipation as he saw his pink tongue dart out to lick him, groaning at that first swipe and pushing his hips up. Stephen looked up at him and holding Miquel’s cock at its base bent to it again and began to lick its length thoroughly, coating it with saliva, as his hands drifted down and held and squeezed his balls gently. Miquel groaned and began to thrust, wanting more and Stephen opened his mouth and attempted to take as much of his cock as possible into his mouth, sucking him and then withdrawing from him his tongue twirling around the tip of his penis and then plunged down again, taking more of him and so continued till Miquel was beyond all control and thrust deep into his throat and released, slumping back onto the bed, gasping and murmuring his name, “Esteve, Esteve, love you .. your mouth … your body… stay please stay with me.”
Stephen crawled up to lean over Miquel and kissed him and whisper, “No my love I can not but I will be with you for this night. I can promise nothing more.”
Miquel pulled him down and kissed his mouth, his eyes, his cheeks and then nibbling at his ear lobes he licked and kissed his way down Stephen’s neck and twisting around settled his body on top of him, his hands gliding up and down Stephen’s torso rubbing his body against the smaller man’s, beginning to feel the first stirrings of Stephen’s erection. He lifted off him and a little to the side so that he could kiss and caress more of Stephen’s body. Nuzzling now at his nipples, he slipped his hands down to caress Stephen’s cock and thighs, his mouth following the path of his hands and then up again, kissing Stephen tenderly, looking at his face and revelling in the excitement and unfeigned pleasure that he saw there.
His own cock was now recovered and he felt it stir, excitement building again as he bent and whispered into Stephen’s ear, “Esteve a holy miracle, you will experience the second coming of Miquel.”
Despite his excitement and arousal, Stephen lay back and groaned and attempted to swat Miquel, “That was a miserable and blasphemous attempt at humour. Even Jack would not attempt such levity. I may reconsider …”
Miquel whispered urgently, “No, no … please Esteve no, let me please.”
Stephen looked at him and recognised his desperation, his desire for him and his heart softened, “All right… my dear … all right … so desperate … yes, I’m still willing.” He pulled Miquel’s head down and kissed him, his tongue duelling with his and Miquel recommenced his journey down Stephen’s body, revisiting all the places that had been nibbled, licked, sucked, squeezed and pinched, his whole being shot through with joy to hear Stephen’s gasps and groans of pleasure and to feel the urgency of his hands on his body. By the time he had finished sucking, petting, squeezing and tasting his cock and balls, Stephen was writhing under him, no longer capable of refusal. He reached down to his bag and brought out the small phial and sat up. Stephen opened his eyes and watched Miquel smooth the sacramental oil along the length of his cock. His tongue flickered in and out, licking his lips his face displaying all too clearly his arousal at the sight.
Miquel then bent down and kissed him again, whispering in his ear, “And now for you my love. May I?”
Stephen nodded, lifting his hips and Miquel placed his fingers at that puckered opening, gently massaging at first, seeking to relax him while coating the outer surface thoroughly. Slowly he inched one finger into his body, feeling the pull and squeeze of the muscles surrounding it, gradually pushing deeper, watching Stephen’s face for any sign of fear or pain. Stephen was breathing loudly his eyes wide and staring but no hint of rejection there, his body still jerking with arousal, his cock now red, engorged and weeping clear fluid. Miquel bent down and quickly lapped at it, causing Stephen to groan and thrust up. Miquel then took his penis into his mouth sucking it hard and fast, the motion the same rhythm as his finger now moving in and out of Stephen. The combined actions of mouth and finger excited him and he pushed and strained against him until he released into Miquel’s mouth. Miquel smiled as he felt the tension ease from him and the muscles relax and slipped in another finger and started to push in harder and further and knew he had hit the sweet spot when he saw Stephen’s eyes open and his mouth round, “Oh, yes, oh more there, yes there.” He muttered and Miquel obliged increasing the pace. When he thought Stephen was ready he lifted his legs over his shoulders and holding his oiled cock at the tight little orifice, looked at Stephen again. “Esteve?” He was trembling now with the tension, he longed to plunge into him, but would not, would wait for permission. Stephen nodded and reached up to cover Miquel’s right hand clasping his hip, “Yes, Miquel push into me. I’m ready.”
The absolute smooth, glorious, slow glide into Stephen’s body drew gasps from Miquel as he sank further into that tight, smooth passage pulsating and so hot wrapped around his cock. Miquel threw his head back wanting to cry out his pleasure but bit down, knowing he must remain quiet. Stephen was staring at him wide-eyed and overcome with these new sensations. He pushed all the way in brushing that place that shot waves of pleasure through Stephen’s body. Stephen gasped and his body jerked. Miquel looked down at him concerned, no not pain, pleasure, yes pleasure there on Stephen’s face and then he felt Stephen’s hips move, he began to undulate against him, biting his lips to try to stop from expressing the absolute ecstasy generated by the hot darts of sensation shooting through his body from that place as Miquel moved inside him. The sense of fullness, the feel of this man’s cock filling him, stretching him was astonishing and beyond anything he had experienced. He felt totally vulnerable and open to this man and the pleasure and pain he could inflict, nothing like the usual experience of lovemaking. The yearning to reach out and communicate with Miquel so important now as he willed him to look at him, see him. Miquel stared at him, their eyes meeting each man naked to the other in their need and vulnerability. The momentum of Miquel’s thrusts increased and with it the pleasure overcame both as Miquel leaned down to devour Stephen’s mouth, his tongue thrusting deep into his mouth as they both came. Stephen feeling the convulsive jerks of Miquel’s cock spurting warm cum, coating him inside as he felt his own release sticky and warm on his stomach and Miquel still thrusting against him. Miquel then lay still gasping and sobbing Stephen glided his hands up and down his back. He too was overwhelmed but calmer than Miquel. He held him tight and kissed his cheek, lifted his face and kissed him, lapping up the tears from his cheeks. As he did so the candle finally guttered out and Miquel relaxed into Stephen’s arms feeling them soothe him, listening to him murmuring comforting nonsense sounds to him, the sounds you make to a fretting child. The darkness comforted him too, just the feel and smell of Stephen surrounding him, everything he needed, “So good, so good.” Miquel murmured. He slept.
Stephen lay there listening to Miquel’s even steady breathing, thinking about what he had just experienced. This felt totally raw, blistering him with the fire and passion generated. This was exciting in a way he had never felt with a woman. With a woman he felt self-contained, in control and yes powerful, part of the release was in the sense of power he felt, but this, this was totally different. Better even? No, he shook his head, just different. The feeling of vulnerability and of being opened up, pierced, his bodily integrity broached. He would never have imagined that he would want to experience that, but he was puzzled at how it had excited him. At the same time, it demanded more, so much more. You can’t close your eyes when this was happening to you, you needed to see, communicate, feel with your lover and share your sensations with him. How many times have I shut my eyes when making love to a woman, totally self-contained, enjoying the ecstasy of release but not sharing it with her, concentrating on my own pleasure? How selfish it seems now. Will I do this again? Yes, probably. With Miquel, certainly on the rest of our journey I will be his, but after… No, I must leave, but who else would I … The image of Jack lying on top of him flashed into his mind. He quashed it as quickly as it appeared. No, that is not permitted. Jack certainly would have no interest in that sort of thing. No best to not think about it. Stephen snorted with derision and murmured, “Am I doing the same as Miquel? I may not become a priest but I’m avoiding dealing with this newly discovered desire in the same way. But then there seems no place in this world for such desires, not legally any way.” He sighed and kissed Miquel, feeling his softened cock slipping from him. “Wake up Miquel. Move a little, your weight is crushing me.” Miquel muttered and moved off of him and Stephen sighed as he stretched his legs and moved on to his side, Miquel’s arms coming around him and he pressed his body to him and slept.
The next morning Stephen was roused by Miquel, planting fervid kisses on his mouth and cheeks and eyelids and chin and threatening movement further south. Stephen opened his eyes and muttered, “For the love of God were you not satisfied last night? You are insatiable.” Miquel laughed and sat up and then dived down to kiss his stomach and began to lick it. Stephen squirmed, “Now what are you doing?”
“Licking dried cum off your stomach. It tastes better coming hot and fresh from you though,” answered Miquel between licks. He then bent to Stephen’s cock licking the length of it, back and forward, two or three times.
“Stop that will you. We have to get up in a little while,” Stephen tried to dislodge him.
Miquel giggled, “You’ll be up long before then, I forecast. Are you always so grumpy in the morning?”
“That is why I make an awful lover. I am not human until I drink my first cup of coffee in the morning. Let go of me now,” Stephen muttered, hitting Miquel on his shoulders.
“I was just helping clean you up after last night and this is my thanks. Let me just lick a little further down, your leaking me all over the place.” With that he lifted Stephen’s legs and licked from his balls, all along the cleft and back, giving a quick peck to the tip of his cock and sat up smiling at Stephen.
Stephen sat up to forestall any other loving assaults on his body, shaking his head. “What shall I do with you? You are absolutely impossible.”
“It’s all those years of pent-up frustration and longing. I have to taste you, feel you, possess as much of you as I can, before you run away from me again.” With that the insouciant defiance disappeared and his face dropped and he looked down, now glum at the thought of Stephen gone from his life again.
Stephen sighed and kissed him, “I’m not running away from you, I’m just returning to my duty, a duty that I am honour-bound to fulfil. At least until peace breaks out.”
“And you are about to remind me that I am a priest again and of my vows. I would leave the church if you would stay with me, Esteve.” He implored him.
Stephen smiled and shook his head, “No, Miquel, you know I can’t stay. I’m not telling you to go back to the Church but I can’t promise you I will be back and if I do come back that we can be together. I cannot promise you that. Just let me love you until I have to go, that I can promise you.” He kissed him on the cheek and got up off the bed and went over to the wash-stand and began to wash himself.
The day was spent rediscovering the city. First they walked to the Generalitat to view the council chambers, admiring the artesonado ceiling of the Salón Dorado and to view the azulejos and frescoes of the Gran Salón de las Cortes Valencianos. Miquel bent close to Stephen’s ear and murmured, “How long before the council of the comunitat sits here again? How long will you be willing to wait till we can rule ourselves again, Esteve?”
“Better that as many of us, as possible survive to see it Miquel,” Stephen replied and walked out of the room and from the building into the sunshine.
They continued down Calle Caballeros to the Plaza de la Virgen and stopped to look at the assembled crowd near the Portada de los Apóstoles, surrounding eight black-clad men sitting at a table. Stephen turned to Miquel, a question on his lips.
“It is the Tribunal de las Aguas. Every Thursday at noon they meet to settle disputes relating to the Huerta’s irrigation water from the eight canals. They have sat here every Thursday since 960, in the time of Caliph Abd ar-Rahman III of Cordoba. The proceedings are never written down, nor is there any appeal.”
“What is the usual fine or sentence?”
Miquel shrugged, “Deprivation of water for a varying amount of time is the usual punishment these days. There used to be monetary fines in lliures valencianes, when we had our own currency, not the Castellano coins. It is the fairest way to ensure all the farmers can share the water equally. The only form of self-government we have left to us.” They walked past the Cathedral to the Basilica de Nuestra Señora de los Desamparados and the statue of the Virgin, “Yes, she is well named our Virgin, our patron saint, Our Virgin of the Abandoned. She was supposedly made by angels.” He added with a cynical smile.
Stephen smiled and replied, “You are a priest Miquel, aren’t you supposed to believe in such things?”
They skirted around the cathedral to the Plaza de la Reina and Miquel’s eyes lit up and he laughed, “I’ll beat you up to the top of Micalet. The one who loses buys the horchatas.” He sprinted into the Cathedral with Stephen on his heels. They ran up the spiral staircase, puffing and jostling each other but Miquel having the longer legs easily reached the top of the octagonal tower and smiled as he leant against the wall grinning in triumph.
“Unfair, you’ve got longer legs than me,” Stephen gasped, completely winded by the two hundred step marathon.
“No, you’re going to have to buy the horchatas and see what a gift I bring. If I hadn’t tempted you up here you would have missed the view. Magnificent isn’t she, my Valencia,” he swept his right arm in a broad arc.
Stephen now he nearly had his breath back gazed out over the gleaming ceramic domes across Valencia’s medieval walls out across the Huerta rolling out in all directions, a green and gold patchwork, bounded in the west by the hazy darker blue of the sierras and to the east by the azure Mediterranean. The green orchards and brilliant golden rice fields had been the source of the city’s wealth for centuries. He nodded in agreement and Miquel draped his arm around his shoulders drawing him close and kissed his cheek.
They walked down the steps and out of the Cathedral at a more sedate pace and crossed the plaza and down Calle de la Paz to Plaza de Santa Catalina entering an old and venerable horchatería. Miquel called out to the proprietor, “Good morning En Bartomeu, some horchata and fartons please.”
“So when are we meeting Josep?” Stephen asked, after sipping on his chilled horchata.
“We’ll meet him at the Lonja . He’s working for Feliu Llimona, a wealthy silk merchant.” Miquel snorted, “One of those merchants your Captain has stolen from.”
“Then I must be a pirate too,” Stephen replied. “I am allocated a share of the booty.”
“Don’t tell that to Josep, he might not be too happy. He suffers his employer’s wrath every time he hears of another loss to that pirate.”
Stephen reached out for another farton and munched it with relish. Miquel laughed again, “You are certainly enjoying your food these days.”
“I am like a squirrel, gorging on food while I can. In preparation for the lean times to come.”
“They don’t feed you enough on that boat of yours?”
“It’s a sloop Miquel, a sloop. They are very particular with the nomenclature of their craft in the Royal Navy I find. Yes they feed me but though the food is filling and reasonably wholesome enough it is rather … Let me say that salted beef or pork and dried peas and hard tack may provide enough sustenance to maintain life but it is certainly not a gourmand’s delight. I will say nothing of the glutinous and quite extraordinary nature of the English pudding.”
“You must be a rich man now Esteve, considering the amount of valuable cargo and the number of ships that your captain has captured in the last few months.”
Stephen looked vague, “Perhaps I am, my dear. I have no idea how much it entails. I just arrange for the prize agent to lodge whatever my share is with my banker. He has an agent in Mahon so it’s all quite simple. I must get the full details of my account one day. I should approach an agent here in Valencia and withdraw some money to repay Tomas’ loan.”
“Oh God, the same old Esteve. You’ve never had a head for money. The prize agent could be robbing you blind and you wouldn’t know it.”
“No, no, Jack ensures that it is all above board. I’m sure everything is all quite in order.”
“I hope so. How do you know you can trust this Jack of yours?”
This time Stephen looked angry and snapped back, “Of course I can. Jack is one of the most honest men I know. Please don’t talk like that of him Miquel. You don’t know anything about him.”
“I’m sorry. I suppose I am just jealous of him. You spout that it is your duty and you are honour bound to return to your ship. I say it is your love for him that draws you back. You defend him quite fiercely. There was no such desire to see me that drew you back home.” This said, with an extraordinary degree of bitterness as Miquel stared out the open doorway, refusing to meet Stephen’s eyes.
Stephen sighed, “Don’t Miquel, don’t go down this path. My friendship with you and my relationship with him are quite different. There is no need for jealousy. Can’t I love you both?”
“But it is he that will have you with him and I’ll be left alone again.”
“I should not have submitted to you last night. I did so … because …” Stephen bent his head trying to sift through all the reasons that influenced his decision but found none that would appeal to Miquel.
“You can’t even tell me why? Was it a parting gift, Esteve?” Miquel snarled, ripping a farton into small pieces and crumbling it.
“Yes, it was a gift, a gift of trust and of love. I have been honest with you Miquel. I have given you no false promises.”
“No, that would be too much for you it seems.” He angrily pushed away his plate.
“Miquel I was totally unaware of your true feelings for me, until just a few days ago. Do you expect me to …” Stephen angry himself now, pushed his chair back and was about to walk out.
“No, Esteve, don’t go. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have spoken so. Please stay.” Miquel called quickly.
He sat back down but with a determined look on his face. “Miquel if we are to travel together, you must understand this. I will be returning to my ship and I can give you no promise that I shall return in the foreseeable future. Your recriminations and your anger and jealousy of Jack will not change this. It only makes the very short time we can have together unpleasant. Can you not accept what I am willing to give and in the spirit it is meant? You are one of my oldest and dearest friends. You know that I would not wish to hurt you, so please let us enjoy our brief sojourn. There is no certainty in life, you know this. Please …” Stephen laid his arm on the table, the palm of his hand upward, a mute appeal.
Miquel looked at him and reached out and clasped his hand and brought it to his lips and kissed it. “Yes, I’m sorry. We’ll not speak of this again.”
“It would be better spoken in private, at least. Come, shall we go? We should go and see Josep.” He lay down some coins to pay and walked out. Miquel followed him and they walked in silence to the Plaza del Mercado and to the Lonja de la Seda. Miquel asked for Señor Soler i Faneca. They were both shown into the Jardin de Los Naranjos to wait for him.
A short, rotund little man, prematurely balding bustled down the staircase. He looked down and seeing the two of them seated on the wall of the ornamental fountain at the centre of the courtyard raised his hand in greeting, “Esteve, Miquel so good to see you.”
He clasped each to him and smiled, looking very pleased with himself. “I’ve been expecting you Esteve. I have a message for you.”
Stephen raised an eyebrow and Miquel scowled, “Shhh! Just don’t blurt it out here where anyone could hear you. Can you come with us now? Are you engaged or can you come to dine with us?”
“Most certainly, most certainly. Shall we go to my place? Mama will certainly have something prepared. Enough for three at least, come now. It’s just a short walk, beyond San Martin. How are you Esteve?”
“Very well my dear Josep and you look quite prosperous,” Stephen replied.
“Yes, reasonably so, reasonably so … but with that damned pirate due back on the coast in a few weeks time, we’ll be looking for some other ports to get some of our stock transported. Thank God one of our ships made it in this morning. I am partner now you know with Señor Llimona.”
“A partner now, Josep, so then I shall be calling on you soon as a wealthy businessman to make some contribution to our Holy Mother Church or some other worthy cause.” Miquel smiled.
Josep looked at him warily. “I do enough for the cause, believe me.”
“But then there can never be enough, don’t you agree in such an important cause,” Miquel smiled.
“You won’t get round me with your wily priest’s ways Miquel. Are you sure you were trained by the Benedictines? I would swear you got most of your training from the Jesuits.”
Josep ushered them into his house, leading them into the dining room and went in search of his mother. The house was a typical merchant’s house, perhaps not as ancient or as venerable as Miquel’s but considered perfectly respectable and was richly furnished, if not in the latest fashion. Stephen walked around surveying the room, the family portraits and asked, “Josep has not married?”
Miquel laughed, “He is very attached to his mother or should I say she is to him. No girl has yet met with her approval, though lord knows Josep has tried.”
Stephen shook his head and snorted and then smiled to greet the lady herself as she entered the room with Josep following her. She held her hand out to Miquel, “Father Miquel how nice to see you again? It has been too long.” She turned and smiled, less warmly now, “And this is?”
“Mother, as I told you this is Esteve Maturin i Domanova, an old school friend from Barcelona.”
“Oh yes, I do remember now. Charmed I’m sure.” She looked distantly at him. Yes she remembered him now. A bastard son of an Irish soldier and that foolish spoilt young chit of a girl. Noble blood he may have but he was not quite the thing.
Stephen bowed gravely, “Madame.”
She turned to Miquel, “I won’t be dining with you. I’m feeling somewhat poorly and will dine in my room. Please make yourselves comfortable. The girl will bring some wine and the food will soon be ready. Good day to you Miquel, Señor Maturin.” She turned and left the room.
Miquel muttered “Thank God for that.”
Josep looked apologetic, “I’m sorry Esteve. Mother can be difficult sometimes.”
Stephen waved his hand signifying it did not concern him. The maid servant arrived with the wine and they all sat down. Stephen turned to Josep, “You said you had a message for me.”
“Oh yes, a courier arrived at the Lonja with a note for me and a message from the Lord Abbot of Monserrat for you. I was certainly surprised when I saw his seal. He has asked me to inform you that he will be in residence at the Castillo at Peñíscola for the next week and wishes you to wait on him during this time, if it is convenient.” Josep looked searchingly at him. “Esteve what have you been up to that His Excellency wishes to speak with you?”
“Nothing as far as I am aware. Perhaps Bishop Cebrián has been in contact with him about me. I cannot see the reason why? I have only promised to deliver a message to the English. That is all.”
Miquel was scowling at him again, “Is that so Esteve?”
Stephen sighed and answered rather tartly, “Yes Miquel that is all.”
At this point the girl returned with a large platter, heaped high with Paella Valenciana. Josep brightened at the sight of the food, rubbing his hands together, “Good girl, Assumpció. Just put it in the middle, we’ll serve ourselves. Some fresh bread and another bottle of wine my dear. Well gentlemen, please help yourselves; don’t let it get cold.”
Miquel shovelled spoonfuls of saffron rice, snails, fried chicken and rabbit and vegetables onto his plate with relish. “Better than your Barcelona concoction Esteve. This is the true paella.”
Stephen nodded as he was passed the serving spoon and served a smaller portion for himself, to cries of, “More, take more Esteve. You must have more…” from both Josep and Miquel.
“I shall be as prosperous looking as you dear Josep if I continue to eat as I have over the last few days.” Stephen laughed as he added another piece of rabbit and some snails and more rice and vegetables to the pile on his plate.
“You mean fat, I know Esteve. It’s just living at home with Mother she does tend to get the girls to cook a lot of food. I always did like my food, a little too much, unfortunately.” Saying this as he proceeded to move a little hillock of paella onto his own plate. “And you’ll never be fat Esteve.”
Quiet reigned as the men attacked their food with relish. Stephen was the first to stop eating and he sat back drinking his wine while the others continued to eat. They all sat back and sipped their wine, Stephen answering Josep’s enquiries as to whether he was married and what he was doing, his prospects. Miquel sat listening, his eyes widened with interest when Stephen mentioned a sea-captain.
Josep’s mouth opened wide, he stared at Stephen dumbstruck, “You are with the English? No, Esteve, you are not with that … thief … that brigand who steals from all of us. Please say you are not.”
“I am the ship’s surgeon and yes it is true.”
Josep looked from side to side, his hands clenched into fists and he was literally shaking, “Do you know how much money you and your Captain have cost me these last few months? Insurance, crippling insurance costs. We are literally uninsurable, let alone the cargos and ships he has stolen and plundered. How could you Esteve? If you were not such an old friend, I would …. Yes I would report you to the … No, no I … Esteve why did you have to become a pirate? Wasn’t being a doctor enough for you? Or were you killing all your patients so you tried your hand at some new crime? Why couldn’t you be a pirate in the Caribbean? Why don’t you steal from the French, they’re rich. Why steal from your poor countrymen?” Miquel found this highly amusing. “And why are you laughing? This isn’t funny.”
“Josep, Josep, Esteve was desperate. He was penniless, marooned on Menorca. He had to find some sort of work and the English captain was happy to take him on board. I’m sure he takes no delight in ruining your business or any other merchants. He’s just there as a doctor. Anyway he’s on our side; he’s going to help us get support from the English and think of the riches that will fall into your lap if you can trade directly with the English.”
Josep’s expression changed immediately, “Esteve, you know the English, you’ve lived there. What do you think the market for silk would be in England? I’ve heard there are so many rich people in England what with their colonies expanding again. Huge numbers growing fat on trade, it would be a heaven sent opportunity if our business could get in first.” His eyes literally glittered at the prospect.
“I would not know Josep. There is an expanding group of wealthy people to be sure and so I assume there is an expanding group of wealthy ladies who would be quite pleased to buy your silks for the right price.” Stephen responded soothingly, regretting his mention of Jack or his nautical activities. Once the prospect of potential riches to be gained had settled sufficiently into a belief in their near certitude, Josep settled back and amiably chatted of his business and his abortive attempts at finding a wife.
The afternoon stretched on until the sounding of the clock chimes in the hallway told them it was four. Josep immediately jumped up and checking his watch to verify the time, said, “I must be off. I have to get back to the Exchange. Business to transact, we are not all gentlemen of leisure you know, unlike some footloose priests gallivanting around the countryside and …” A slight frown as he considered what he was to say about Esteve but the wine had its effect and he burst out, “And bloody marooned pirates who have no better things to do than to ruin their fellow countrymen’s businesses.” He shook both their hands, kissed each and was off.
They both followed him out of the house and saw him rushing up the street, puffing and short of breath. The wine had affected Miquel as well and he smiled down at Stephen and put his arm around his shoulders, leaning on him slightly, “Who would have believed it, my friend Esteve, a pirate. Will you show me your sword, pirate?” He then bent down and whispered in his ear, “And I’d love to show you mine.”
Esteve shook his head and pushed him off. “I think you already have. You’re as drunk as Josep. Shall we go for a walk along the river? I need to stretch my legs and you need to sober up or …. ?”
“Or what?” Miquel asked and whispered again, “No loving for me tonight, is that what you are threatening Esteve?”
“Well I just prefer you sober to drunk. It’s safer that way, for you and me. Think of your dignity as a priest, at least.”
“When did you become so respectable Esteve? Are you growing old?” Miquel shrugged put his arm back around Stephen’s shoulder and laughed.
“No, I’ve just grown up.” Stephen replied dryly.
They wandered out via the gate between the Torres de Serranos and followed the path along the Turia which was running low, a mere rill flowing fitfully in the middle of its broad, rocky bed, still waiting for the autumnal rains to revive its flow. When they reached the western gate they re-entered the city and returned to Miquel’s house and spent the afternoon and the evening playing chess. Miquel’s game, aggressive and prone to alternately mad or inspired moves but with a tendency to underestimate his opponent and Stephen was not to be underestimated and through a few carefully calculated feints and sacrifices of his rook and a bishop was within one move of declaring check. Too late, Miquel saw the danger to his King, but Stephen had foreseen that move and had a countermove prepared and was waiting to declare the game his. He waited patiently as Miquel frowned at the board trying to work out a way to extricate his King. Eventually after much grimacing, plotting and muttering he threw up his hands, “I am yours, you can call mate and I will yield.” A sly grin then crossed his face, “And I might even yield to you this night when you mate with me.”
Stephen groaned, “Why am I fated to be surrounded by men who take such enjoyment in the most meagre crumbs of wit? You are as bad as Jack and yes I declare check and mate.”
Miquel laughed and lunged at him and kissed him. “Yes my love and can I take you to bed now and mate with you?”
“Is there any point in resisting?” Stephen asked.
“No, none whatsoever, I have you in my power Esteve and you must yield,” he kissed him again and laughed, releasing him when Constança entered the room with a tray for their supper. “Thank you Constança, that will be all for the night. Esteve will we be staying in Valencia tomorrow?”
Stephen shook his head, “No, I must make my way to Peñíscola as soon as possible to wait on the Lord Abbot and I would like to see Sagunto.”
“We can stay tomorrow night at the Carmelite Monastery of Desierto de las Palmas and it will be an easy ride to Peñíscola the next day. It is quite beautiful, peaceful there and on the clearest days you can see the Columbretes far out to sea. I went on a retreat there once. It was very useful, calming to me when I first became a priest.” Miquel looked thoughtful now.
Stephen smiled and patted his hand, “Then of course we shall stay there. Would you prefer to stay a day or two there? I will go on to Peñíscola alone and you can meet me there a day or two later and we will push on for Tortosa and Tarragona.”
“No, I’d rather go with you to your meeting with the Lord Abbot. Do you think he will allow me to come with you to your audience with him?”
“I do not know. We shall see.”
“We’ll have a long ride tomorrow and we should leave early. Constança please wake us at sunrise, we will have to be on our way soon after.”
She made her bob and left the room wishing them a good night. Stephen picked at the food, not feeling very hungry and sipped his coffee and looked searchingly at Miquel who quite happily polished off what was on his plate.
Miquel looked at his plate and then up to Stephen, “You’re not hungry Esteve?” And to Stephen’s swift negation smiled at him again and said, “But I would have you strong and ready this evening?”
“What have you in mind? As if, I didn’t know,” Stephen snorted.
Miquel bent close to nuzzle his neck and whispered, “Shall we go to bed Esteve? Then you’ll find out.”
As they got into bed, Miquel was serious for a moment, “And why were you looking at me like that this evening, Esteve? A look that seemed to me as if you wanted to dig every secret from my wretched soul.”
Stephen sighed again, “Perhaps I do Miquel. Perhaps I do. I … I worry when I am gone … Your commitment to the Church and what we have done these last few nights … I’m afraid this will cause you such regret, such remorse … I know you to be a good man, I would not see you ….”
Miquel pulled Stephen into his arms, “My soul, my vocation, my commitment to the Church is my affair, my responsibility. You have merely given me what I have asked of you. Don’t seek to take responsibility for me or my decisions! All I want tonight is to be with you, as I’ve always wanted it to be. When I’m with you, I am not a priest, I am your lover and always will be, even if … Just let me love you Esteve, just let me love you now.” He pulled back searching Stephen’s face and with one finger lightly outlined Stephen’s lips, delicate tracings along the sensitive flesh. “I adore you Esteve. I always have. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted and there is no one else for me. Just give me this short time together. I ask for no assurances that you will return, I will live for today, experience you and love you now. I don’t care for tomorrow. Just let me love you.”
Stephen’s lips opened and he began to suck on Miquel’s fingertips, returning his gaze, absorbed in it. Miquel pulled him close licking and tasting his lips, pressing harder, asking for surrender. A surrender Stephen willingly gave, his passion responding to Miquel’s. They lay now, on their sides their arms wrapped around each other, their legs entangled and kissing passionately, the only sounds the liquid soft sounds of their kisses and their sighs of pleasure as they stroked each other, building the fire, the tension. Miquel turned Stephen and spooned himself against his back, reaching round and massaging his penis, kissing and sucking as much of his skin as he could, lapping at a nipple, tugging and nibbling on his earlobe, whispering his love for him. Stephen overwhelmed with pleasure pushed back against him, softly pleading for Miquel to enter him. Miquel dipped his fingers in the phial, coating them with oil and pierced Stephen, gazing down at him as he began a steady, internal massage, enraptured as he watched Stephen’s response to him, his muscles now atremble waiting, waiting and a slow smile broadened as Stephen squirmed in his arms and he heard his ever-more urgent pleas to be taken. He then slicked his cock and pushed in slowly, so slowly exulting in the hot and tight passage shuddering around him, the muscles dilating and tightening in waves, surrounding him with pleasure and driving him to a blinding orgasm, gasping and crying, “Esteve, my love, my sweet love, my only love. Love you, love you.” He showered Stephen’s face with kisses as Stephen released into his hand, crying out his passion in a tumble of incoherent words and phrases. He petted and massaged him, kissing and laving his cheeks, whispering, “Sleep Esteve, sleep my dear.” He settled down behind him, holding him until Stephen slept. Once he knew he was asleep he kissed the nape of Stephen’s neck, licking and tasting him, rubbing his body against his back as if he was trying to absorb him into his very being, whispering, “So precious my love, how will I ever let you go from me?” He buried his face in Stephen’s neck smelling and tasting his skin, desperate to experience every sensation he could with his lover’s body. He pushed himself as far as possible inside Stephen and settled down to sleep, caressing his chest and stomach.
Morning came all too quickly with a very confused Constança, standing over him, shaking his shoulder, “Sir, it’s time to get up sir.”
Miquel lifted his head from Stephen’s neck, “Yes, yes, we’ll be up and around in a minute. Please go see to our breakfast. Thank you.”
Stephen roused by Miquel’s voice opened his eyes with a start. He could feel Miquel’s cock still inside him and knew they were not covered and knew she would have seen quite clearly their physical joining. “Miquel, that girl, she’s seen us. Will she say anything to anyone?”
“I don’t think so. I’ll talk to her. It’ll be all right.” He kissed Stephen’s shoulder and pulled out of him. He got out of bed, hurriedly washed and dressed himself, urging Stephen to hurry and went downstairs to the kitchen to talk to Constança. Stephen, after washing and dressing, collected their things and carried them down to the dining room. Constança greeted him but with a degree of reserve that had not been there the day before and Stephen looked at Miquel who shrugged his shoulders.
They ate their meal in silence and after farewelling Constança, went to their horses, saddled and prepared by the stable boy. They nodded their farewells to him and made their way through the misty and very quiet streets to the gate below the Torres de Serranos and headed north. Stephen looked pinched and miserable. At last he turned to Miquel, “What did she say?”
Miquel shrugged, “Nothing, she wouldn’t talk about what she saw and I was hardly going to force the issue.”
“Will she tell your parents?”
“No, no she wouldn’t. She knows it would hurt them.”
“Would she tell others?”
“She is not a girl to gossip normally. No, I’m fairly sure she wouldn’t as she would know it would get back to my parents. Are you worried about your reputation, Esteve?” He asked coldly.
“No, I’m more worried for your reputation. You are a priest, you must be seen to …”
“Don’t worry about it Esteve. Don’t let it spoil your day or our time together with fruitless worrying. Look how glorious the day has become,” he cried as they trotted their horses along the long flat strand. The sky was a deep azure, the sea reflecting it back, a few white fluffy clouds scudded eastwards, the seabirds, startled by their horses whirled around them, the gulls making a raucous din. Inland they could make out figures working among the orange trees in the groves that stretched all along this part of the coast. They were pruning the branches of the trees in preparation for winter. Stephen’s mood brightened as the sun rose higher and warmer and the breeze swung around onshore, refreshing them and their horses so they made good time and turned inland to reach Sagunto just after one.
They made their way through the old Jewish quarter up to the ruined Roman Theatre and then finally to the acropolis in the upper part of Sagunto. Miquel glancing at Stephen’s face noted his expression was becoming more grave and severe. They dismounted and sat on the stones of a Roman Temple, Stephen still looking sombre as he gazed across and down the hill at the remains of the ancient town and over the surrounding huerta. Miquel touched his shoulder, “Esteve what worries you?”
Stephen startled by the touch looked at him and shook his head, “Nothing really, just contemplating this city’s past. The blood of these people still flows through Catalan veins and I wonder if they will repeat the mistakes of their ancient forbears. When faced with defeat at the hands of Hannibal, they chose suicide. The women and children, the aged and infirm threw themselves and all their possessions into a bonfire while their menfolk made suicidal sorties against the overwhelming Carthaginian forces surrounding the city. Will modern Catalans make these same fatal, desperate errors of judgements? Is freedom from the Castellanos more important than their lives? It is the one thing that holds me back from …” He shook his head and refused to continue.
Miquel’s eyes flared, “No Esteve, you are wrong. We will be more cunning than that. We will only move when we have the strength of the English behind us and you can help us so much, if you are willing.”
Stephen looked at him steadily, “But can you answer for all the Catalan patriots? There are always firebrands who prefer to go down in the fight for a glorious cause no matter how ill-thought their strategies and they invariably cause the death and destruction of innocents. You overestimate any influence or power I have Miquel. I am merely a ship’s surgeon under the command of a reasonably successful naval commander.”
“The Lord Abbot thinks you’re important enough to see? Why is that Esteve?” Miquel demanded.
Stephen shrugged, “Curiosity, a recommendation from your bishop, knowledge of my connections or my godfather, perhaps. Who can tell his reasons? Come let’s eat and we must be off, we still have many miles between us and Benicasim.”
They reached Castellón de la Plana late in the afternoon, passing the ruins of the old Moorish citadel on La Magdalena hill, the partial remains of the walls backlit by the setting sun. They arrived in the dark at the Carmelite Monastery. The wind rustling the palms, the rhythmic crash of waves on the nearby shore and the faint barking of a distant dog were the only noises disturbing the utter quiet of this place. They were led to individual cells by a member of the order and a bowl of milk and bread was provided and they were left to their individual solitary contemplation. Stephen put out his candle fairly early and was soon fast asleep. Miquel lay in the dark his thoughts centred on Stephen, his mind and body far from serene. He attempted various prayers, spiritual exercises but none answered to calm his agitation. Only loving Stephen, being with him would do that and he despaired when he thought of his leaving him Close to dawn he slipped into a troubled sleep. At dawn Stephen rose and left his cell and the monastery to walk to the sea. The wispy morning mist quickly lifted and he stared out to sea, staring at the islands, shading his eyes from the sunlight. He had heard these islands were a haven for many birds such as Audoin’s gull, Cory’s shearwater and the Eleanora’s falcon. He knew large numbers of birds migrating from Europe to Africa in the autumn used these islands to regain their strength to continue their journey. “There is not enough time,” he murmured. “Perhaps I can persuade Jack to let me ashore there for a few hours.” He was still sitting there looking out to sea when Miquel came in search of him.
Miquel sat down beside him, putting his arm around him, asking, “Couldn’t you sleep? What are you doing here?”
“No, I slept quite well and woke early. I would like to go out to the islands to see for myself the birds that flock there this time of year, but I don’t have the time. We must be on our way to Peñíscola this morning.”
“If you stayed you could go out there as often as you wished,” Miquel said his chin resting on Stephen’s shoulder.
Stephen reached up and caressed his face, “Trying to tempt me Miquel?” Stephen smiled and surveyed his friend’s face and noted the signs of lack of sleep.
“Yes Esteve, I’ll use anything to make you want to stay.” Miquel laughed.
“Miquel you are tired. You have not slept, I can tell. Why not stay here, in the peace and calm and rest and meet me in Peñíscola in a day or two.”
Miquel shook his head, “No, it won’t help. Perhaps I’ll ask to come back here, on retreat once you’ve gone.”
Stephen leant close to him and touched his lips to Miquel’s forehead. “As you wish, come let’s go to breakfast and be on the road, away from temptation.”
“Temptation for you perhaps …” Miquel replied. “My only temptation is sitting beside me.”
“Come along you reprobate and stop your lurid imaginings,” Stephen scoffed and standing, brushed the sand off his clothes and walked toward the monastery, Miquel jumping up to follow him.
They continued their ride along the flat coastline and could easily see, even when they were still many miles south of their destination, the white mass of buildings atop the rugged promontory of Peñíscola, anchored to the mainland by a sandy isthmus. “It reminds me somewhat of Mont St Michel. It appears at this distance, like a white ship afloat on the sea, as if at any moment it would detach itself from the land and float away.”
“A rather romantic piece of prosy from you Esteve, the dedicated logician,” Miquel teased. “It’s quite fitting the Lord Abbot should meet you in a Castillo built by those heretical knights, the Templars and the last residence of the last anti-Pope, Papa Luna. You are continuing in the tradition of the long line of heretics and rebels that have occupied that place.”
“Logician, perhaps, and yet I prefer my explanations to be founded in the reality of the natural world than in the miraculous or supernatural. Does that make me a heretic? I am not immune to the sublime beauty of this world, whether it is the creation of an omniscient and all powerful deity or a glorious accident. I quite approve of Papa Luna. It was he that confirmed the foundation of St Andrew’s University, a fine Scottish institution of learning and promulgated the Statutes of Salamanca University. It is a pity that not more popes or anti-popes for that matter took such an interest in the acquisition of knowledge beyond the merely theological.” Stephen replied.
They reached the walls of the castle just before sunset and were permitted entry after their identities were verified and then taken to rooms prepared for them, given food and drink and asked to wait for the Lord Abbot to summon them. They were both sitting quietly chatting and finishing the last of the wine when a discreet tap at the door and the entrance of a priest made them look up. “Señor Maturin, His Excellency will see you now. Please follow me.” Miquel stood up but was forestalled, “Brother the Lord Abbot will see you after Señor Maturin. You may wait here or in the ante-room if you prefer.” Miquel quickly suppressed a frown and nodded and followed them.
Stephen entered the salon and knelt at the feet of the Lord Abbot to receive his blessing. Standing again he studied the elderly Benedictine, wondering what type of man he was, the strength of his Catalan sympathies and what he would have to say to him.
“Welcome Esteve, welcome home. You are only visiting at the moment but we have hopes that at some time in the future you shall visit us more frequently, acting as a messenger and perhaps an organiser or negotiator for those who would wish to promote Catalan freedom and as someone who can be relied on to oppose the French tyrant. Is this true?”
Stephen nodded guardedly, “I have already told the Bishop of Orihuela that I am considering my position and any possible involvement in the future. I’m sure he has told you of my attitude to Buonaparte. How may I help you? I have already agreed to transmit a message to the British Admiral in the Mediterranean but as I have been informed of a possible peace treaty being signed in the near future, the scope for any immediate action is limited.”
“Yes, yes I am aware of this. No, what I seek is someone I can rely on to act as a reliable, discreet conduit for information between our disparate groups and potential external allies, the British in particular. I, of course will be able to provide privileged information from the Castilian court, only available to me as Lord Abbot of Monserrat. This may prove fruitful to our potential allies. Are you this man?”
“I believe I can fulfil this role. Why are you so eager for Catalan freedom? Or is it more that you would use the burning desire for Catalan freedom among young Catalans like my friend Miquel to organise them to fight Napoleon and that at some point they may become expendable. What then? What is your stake in all this?”
“A cautious man and loyal to your friends, I see. It’s understandable that you may have some suspicions of a man who has such close connections with the Royal court. I also note that some of your mother’s family are as closely linked to the noble houses of Castile. Many of your Castilian cousins serve the King in the government, the army and as diplomats and ambassadors, abroad. So one could say your dedication to Catalan independence might be questioned, though the strong influence of your godfather, En Ramon would save you from most suspicion. You have friends and relatives on both sides, men in powerful positions who might unwittingly help our cause by confiding in you. You are a physician, a man who any community would welcome and you may move from place to place, always sure of a welcome for your skills. You may also act as a sympathetic listener to any confessions induced by the uneasy consciences of men, without the injunction that prevents a priest from revealing the details of those confessions. Your natural caution and circumspection and if I might say your ability to mask your reactions makes you perfect for the role of intermediary.”
Stephen smiled, “Is the purpose of this audience to persuade me to take up this role? I note you do not use the word spy. For that is what I would become in Castilian eyes, a spy for the British.”
“But there are gradations in all worlds. No, I would not call you a spy. You would be a Catalan patriot who would use his intellect, skills and natural aptitude in the collection and coordination of intelligence.”
“I see you are well versed in the arts of diplomacy and persuasion my Lord Abbot but I will make my own decisions. Be assured that if Napoleon threatens Catalunya or I believe that by supporting Catalan independence I will materially weaken the tyrant, I am your man.”
“That is all I can ask. Perhaps we should invite your fervently patriotic brother to join us. Ferdinand, please bring in Brother Miquel.” Miquel came in and knelt before the Lord Abbot and on rising was met with a smile, “My dear Brother Miquel I have heard so much of you, from your Bishop. He tells me great things of your enthusiasm. With such enthusiasm and a stint in the New World you will do well in the Church. How has your journey with Esteve been?”
“Very good sir, I have enjoyed having my old friend back home and showing him the best parts of Valencia.”
“Yes I see you are the fervid patriot that your friend and your Bishop have described to me. You must come to see me at Montserrat, make the pilgrimage and stay at one of the hermitages.”
“My parents are there at the moment to pray to the Holy Virgin. My mother is not well.”
“I shall remember her in my prayers and have a mass said for her. Shall we sit and take tea.” He nodded to Ferdinand. They had, much to Miquel’s frustration a very general conversation about Catalunya and its beauties. He longed to hear what they had discussed before he joined them and was determined to get all the details from Stephen, as soon as he could.
When they made their farewells and returned to their suite of rooms, Miquel burst out, “Well what did you talk about? Please tell me Esteve.”
Stephen shook his head and smiled, “My dear, it wasn’t half as interesting as you might believe. He was merely trying to persuade me to take a more active part in the fight for Catalan freedom.”
“Did he succeed?”
“I answered him, as I answered you. If the time is right and I can see that I can truly make a difference in the movement I will. Now come let us go to bed. I find I’m quite drained.” Esteve kissed his cheek and walked into the bedroom.
There were two beds and Stephen took that one closest to the window. He quickly undressed and got into bed and looked up to see Miquel looking at him steadily. He shook his head, “No Miquel, not here. It’s not safe. We can stay at an inn in Tortosa or at Felipe’s. He’s still living in Tarragona isn’t he?”
“Yes, yes …he is,” Miquel sat down beside Stephen and bent to kiss him. “Esteve I’ve never asked if you ever wanted to … to … I would let you, if you wanted.”
Stephen stared back at him for a little while, considering and said, “Perhaps, but not tonight, Miquel. You did not sleep well last night. Go to your bed, sleep my dear. We have another long ride and day ahead of us.”
So the next morning found them on the road again. They stopped at Vinaroz, a fishing port, some miles north of Peñíscola, so that they could make enquiries of the Sophie’s whereabouts. There was good news that she still had not been sighted and the strong prevailing westerlies would ensure that it would be at least another week more likely two before she could make her way back to the coast. They then turned inland for Tortosa and the Ebro delta. Stephen was eager to get there, to be among the marshland. The delta was rich in birdlife at this time of the year. Miquel was not so pleased considering it a fever-ridden, unhealthy mosquito infested swamp and wondering, not for the first time about Stephen’s obsession with birds. Once they had reached it, Miquel had a hard time moving Stephen along, urging him towards the city before sunset, not wanting to be caught wandering lost among the reed beds in the darkness. His sigh on sighting the bridge spanning the Ebro to Tortosa expressed his relief at escaping the swamp. Stephen looked longingly back down the river, seeing a flight of cranes their white feathers tinged pink by the light of the setting sun, listening to their calls as they swung in an arc and formed the usual v-formation before flying south, south to Africa in their long flight chasing the warmth of the sun.
Miquel’s desires were thwarted again, for on entering the city the first person he should meet was a fellow priest, Pedro Serrano who had completed his theological training with him and urged him and Stephen to lodge at the Episcopal Palace with him. He like Miquel was a secretary to a bishop, the Bishop of Tortosa and was also marked for accelerated progression through the ranks. His family connections ensured it. If they both progressed as expected, they too would one day be bishops.
Miquel introduced him to Stephen and they followed him to the Bishop’s rather grand palace. Stephen was admiring the beauty of the patio, the straight flight of steps occupying the whole of one side of the patio and the slender columns, delicately carved and ornamented that supported the arcades of the gallery while Pedro was talking to Miquel, “The Bishop is visiting his sister in Madrid, so I haven’t had much to do these last few weeks. How is your Bishop, Miquel? I’ve heard he is very easy going, mine … mine is well …less than forgiving if mistakes are made.”
“No, I have an easy time of it, Pedro. He’s let me go off on this little jaunt with Esteve for a few weeks. I think he is glad to have me out of the way for a while. My “enthusiasms”, as he terms them wear him down on occasion.” Miquel laughed.
“Yes, you always were to be found at the centre of the action, now that I recall.” Pedro laughed, “Come Miquel, Esteve I’ll get some rooms prepared for you and then we can have supper.”
The rest of the evening Stephen sat quietly with them listening to them reminisce about their days together at theological college and answering the few questions Pedro had about his friendship and history with Miquel. His mind wandered back to his day spent in the marshes of the Ebro, with great inner satisfaction, mentally cataloguing the types and numbers of birds he had seen that afternoon. He was brought back to the present by Miquel touching his shoulder, “Dreaming again, Esteve? It’s time for bed.”
Stephen smiled up at him, “Merely contemplating the discoveries and pleasures of the day. A truly remarkable number and range of birds, how I wish I had more time?”
“When you come home permanently, there will be plenty of time.” Miquel replied.
Catalan Holiday 4