The King's Tale

The King's Tale was published by Dreamspinner Press in July of 2009. It tells the story of a kingdom in Cornwall in the middle 1200's. Although it is firmly rooted in actual history (minus the fact that homosexuals were subject to the Papal inquisition and not allowed to live openly as I depicted) it is for all intents and purposes a fantasy.

This is not an excerpt. As I wrote the story I sometimes wrote little snippets to entertain or amuse myself. This is one of those little stories. Dafydd is Welsh, and many times there are hints that he has Welsh magic in his soul. Christopher is of the belief that Dafydd will shift shape into a falcon by twilight, so this is a little story to see if it will come true.

You can find The King's Tale at Dreamspinner Press and also at the GLBT Bookshelf. In fact, if you visit the Holiday Bazaar, you can get a 15% discount on The King's Tale as well as other books by new novelists. Make the Yuletide...Gay!

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Summer sun baked the kingdom of Lysnowydh. Through the day the people worked hard to bring forth life from the hard ground whilst the king and his soldiers worked and drilled. None cared to have a return from Warin of Strasnedh catch them by surprise, not ever again.

King Christopher and his marshal Sir Dafydd rode one last patrol around their immediate domain as Sir Cuthbert ran the squires through their final drill for the day. Without speaking, Dafydd spurred his horse forward, galloped up the rise and crested the top. With a sigh of irritation Christopher urged his mount to follow.

"Dafydd," he called as he left their escort behind, "Hold, 'tis not wise to venture so far from the men."

With no response, Dafydd continued his gallop, through the wild heather, and under the dense covering of trees. He did not stop until 'twas just the two of them. He slid from his horse's back and allowed the reins to dangle, secure in the knowledge that the horse would not stray.

Breathless, Christopher reached his side and dismounted. "Dafydd?"

With naught but a small smile, Dafydd moved deeper into the dense undergrowth. Soon the men would find them, but he had a fierce desire held deep within himself, one that would not wait until after the evening meal when they could mount the stairs to their own chambers and finally be alone. He heard the sounds of the king following him and the mumbled oaths from his lips.

"Art mad Dafydd," Christopher said when at last Dafydd stopped, and he bumped squarely into his back.

"Nay," Dafydd said, and he turned and pulled Christopher tight against his chest, "I but mean to give you what you once said you desired."

Christopher wormed his arms tightly around Dafydd's back, "And what is that?"

Dafydd dipped his head and whispered into Christopher's ear, "You wished to know if I would shift my shape to a falcon if you took me at twilight."

With a gasp Christopher tightened his arms about Dafydd's back, "Art wicked cariad....."

"Aye, mayhaps 'tis why you keep me close." Dafydd stepped back then, and screened by the dense brush he loosened the ties of his chausses, let them drop to the ground. Heedless of the surroundings and discomfort of the hard ground, he lowered himself until he lay spread before the king.

With nothing more than a quickly drawn in breath, Christopher loosened his own belt, and dropped down between Dafydd's outstretched legs. He laid his hand gently at Dafydd's hip and bent closer.

"Art magnificent Dafydd," he breathed, "with the dusk touching you this way. Would that these were safe times that I might see you more completely, here beneath the trees from which you sprang, here in the soft air where magic happens."

Dafydd shifted, reached up to cup the back of Christopher's neck, and pulled him closer for a searing kiss. When he broke free he whispered, "Take me my king, my desire is great."

The urgency communicated, Christopher spent little time in preparation, and sunk himself deep inside the warmth of Dafydd's body. Their moans were stifled against one another's shoulders. The coupling was as wild as the surroundings.

"'Tis true," Christopher panted when he pulled free and allowed himself the luxury of lying for a moment in Dafydd's arms, "I felt the falcon soar within as you broke."

Dafydd's warm hand rested on Christopher's ass and he murmured softly, "I am always truthful with you my king."

"Aye," Christopher said, "and now we must needs take horse, return to the keep that I might take you again upon your bed, in the warmth of the firelight."

"Be quick," Dafydd said as they both sat up and prepared to stand, "the magic only lasts a short while."

"Art wrong," Christopher said as he fastened his belt. "The magic began the night I sheltered in your cottage, and it shows no sign of abating."

Dafydd smiled, turned and shouldered his way through the brush toward where the horses stood calmly munching the sparse grass. He knew Christopher spoke the truth.

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Visit my shelf at the GLBT Bookshelf, Rowena Sudbury