Chapter Four. Background information
"We need to call in on the Shepton's and see if we can take up their offer to
use their shower and go into Hazelbridge and pick up some groceries," Ernie
stated at breakfast. The previous evening's activity hadn't been mentioned
although both of them were still in their pyjamas and Erica's top had only one
button done up. She knew the almost complete view of her breasts had again
aroused her partner but her vagina was still tender, pleasantly tender.
"I think we should also pay a visit to the harbour master's office to see if
they have any idea of when the boat is likely to arrive here. Even if it's not
part of the dock they control they probably keep an eye on what happens at the
jetty."
"Good idea."
"That's a change," thought Erica, "Yesterday he would have poo-pooed the idea
and then restated it as if he'd thought of it."
"Come on in," Marjorie Shepton greeted them, "The bathroom's through there.
Water's piping hot. You've half an hour before the men come in for breakfast. I
expect you're used to showering together and we're broad-minded country folk.
You're not bird watching today? Seen any of the old monks? Bit weird the way
they dress. Hope you haven't eaten breakfast, there's always more than
enough...." Plump, down-to-earth Marjorie babbled on without ever waiting for an
answer as she ushered them into the bathroom.
"After last night I guess it won't hurt if we shower together especially if we
only have half an hour." Ernie shucked out of his clothes and started the
shower.
"Whatever happened to the gentlemanly, 'Ladies first' routine?" Erica asked
seemingly put out.
"Where's the lady?" Ernie quipped and received a punch on the arm for his
trouble. Still somewhat hesitant and uncertain about touching Erica's body, not
knowing if she would suddenly 'do a gooly' to use his expression for her going
berserk, he soaped a sponge and washed her back, then passed the sponge for her
to do his. "Close your eyes," he suggested when it was his turn with the sponge
again. At least she was sensible enough not to bother with make-up on a trip
like this. He continued washing her front and paid special attention to her
breasts and pubic area.
"Can't you control this thing?" Erica asked as she knelt and washed his semi
erect prick.
"It has a mind of its own when a pretty girl handles it," Ernie laughed.
"Oh so I'm pretty now am I? You wouldn't have said that a week ago. I was just a
bitch then."
"And I was just a perverted bastard." With her lips so close to the now very
clean prick, Erica succumbed to the temptation to give it a little suck but
hardly had the end entered her mouth when Marjorie banged on the door and
announced, "Breakfast in five minutes."
*****
"Any news Brother?" Patrick enquired of his senior.
"Yes, and it confirms they are snoopers. Their vehicle is registered to an
Ernest Green who works for the Shire Press. His companion is Erica Cohen who
works for the same paper. When I phoned the office, I was told they were both
out on assignment. The receptionist girl said she didn't know what the
assignment was and had no means of contacting them. Apparently only the Editor
could do that. They are both bird watchers though so that would be a good cover
for spying on us. Keep a good eye on them and if the manage to get inside the
fence, let them get close to the house before capturing them."
"Will we be able to interrogate them, William? That Erica is attractive in a
dominating sort of way. It would be great to make her sing under the lash. And
I'm sure some of the brothers will enjoy a piece of Ernie's probably virgin
arse."
"I certainly hope so, Patrick," Brother William answered but we'll have to be
careful. We won't want a hue and cry over it."
*****
"And how many ships can you handle at Hazelumbridge port at any one time,
Captain?" Erica smiled sweetly at the harbourmaster as they stood in front of a
large wall map of the port.
"Six, four at Neptune Quay and two at the new West Quay but we rarely have more
than four in at a time. The last part of the river is still a bit tortuous until
we get the channel dredged next year."
"What about this other quay? Don't you use that?" Erica pointed to the Daneburgh
Priory jetty.
"That's Brent point. Nothing to do with us Miss. The Priory monks own it. It's
just a small jetty built by the navy in the war to moor their minesweepers and
other boats close to the entrance to both rivers. Not big enough for the ships
we handle."
"So it's not used now?"
"Yes it is, but only for the weekly boat that brings supplies to the priory. The
Bosmia Castle comes in Wednesdays, usually at night and stays for one tide. Not
much else uses the jetty as far as we know."
"They don't get their supplies locally then?"
"No Miss, they all come by boat from the west country. Lot of odd-bods live in
the Priory. Supposed to be a retreat but some talk about it being a secret
society."
*****
"Hi Chief. Did you find out anything?" Erica spoke into her mobile phone. They
day had passed pleasantly but had not got them any further in finding out more
about the monks and the goings on at the Priory. She'd been pleased that Ernie
had allowed her to interview the harbourmaster alone and afterwards she
communicated her findings to her editor and asked him to see what information he
could dig up on the Bosmia Castle.
"Well there's definitely some sort of story there but I'm not sure if it isn't
going to be more than you two wild cats can handle."
"You can't pull us off it now, Chief, our jobs are at stake."
"I'm beginning to suspect that might be the least of your worries. You hear me
out and then decide. Okay?"
"Yeah Chief, but we're not giving up on this one. Something is definitely going
on there."
Chief noted for the second time in the short conversation she had referred to
her and Ernie as a pair. 'Our jobs are at stake'; 'we're not giving up on this
one.' From his earlier experience of them he would have expected the singular
'I'. "Things must have changed a bit," he thought but went on, "The Bosmia
Castle is based in Plymouth, which is several hundred miles by sea from you.
That aroused my suspicious mind. Why would they want to just take supplies all
that way by sea? I contacted the editor of the Plymouth Echo who put me on to a
freelance reporter who is investigating the other end of the pipeline. It took
some persuasion before he would give out anything but when I told him I had two
rookies poking about the Priory he told me to warn you to keep out."
"He wants the scoop to himself," Erica muttered.
"No Erica, I don't think it was just that. Hear me out. These so-called monks
have a small chateau in Brittany in rural countryside about 30 miles inland from
Roscoff where there are regular ferry sailings to Plymouth. To the outside world
the chateau seems to be a gathering place for monks going on retreat to
Daneburgh. They come from all over Europe particularly Germany except they are
not monks at all. They have no religious connections whatsoever. All the ones
Joe Spinks, the reporter, has been able to identify so far are rich, racist and
are known sadistic sexual deviants."
"I thought sex might have to come into it somewhere," Erica murmured.
Chief ignored the comment, "One who goes on retreat regularly is Baron Ernst von
Bregstein. He has a place in Bavaria and there was a bit of a scandal that was
hushed up a year ago. A girl was found in the local laundry van. She was naked
and had been whipped all over and had been repeatedly gang raped. The girl was a
young refugee from Kosavo. Apparently, she'd been bought by the Baron and kept
prisoner along with other girls. I won't give you all the details of what
happened but it was pretty horrific. The girl had managed to get in with the
dirty laundry and escaped that way. Afterwards four other girls were freed but
no charges were ever made. Money talked somewhere along the line."
"You think there are girls being held in the Priory for sadism, Chief?"
"Joe is certain that is so. Be very careful, the pair of you. Keep me well
informed before you do anything. Don't go in unless you are sure you can get
out. In fact I suggest you don't go in at all but even if I forbid it, I know
you'll decide to do it anyway, so heed what I have said. These people are
ruthless."
"We had intended to have a look inside in the morning, Chief. Ern thinks he's
found a way under the fence now the water level is down. We've only had the one
downpour in the past month. That was our first night here and the soil just
soaked that up. And the Bosmia Castle is due in tonight so we want to have check
on what happens there."
Chief wondered again if anything had changed in the relationship between the
two. Never had he heard Erica use the familiar 'Ern' name for her partner.
Previously it had always been Ernie and then only if she was being polite. More
frequently it was 'Him' or 'That Sod' or some other equally derogatory name.
"Let me know immediately, if you decide to go in and if anything unusual comes
off the boat. Take care. Don't feel you have to take any risks, in fact I'm
ordering you not to."
*****
Breakfast was well under way when they arrived at the Shepton's farmhouse next
morning. "You look like you've been up all night," Marjorie stated in her
forthright way. "You been bird watching or was it monk watching?"
"More likely they were just making the bed bounce for too long," Ken chipped in
amid laughter from the table. Erica's hackles began to rise but feeling Ernie
squeeze her hand, she remembered she needed to keep in with these folk.
"No, we stayed up and watched the boat come in but not much of a moon so we
didn't see a lot. Cloud kept coming over." Ernie answered. Speculation followed
as to what went on in the Priory but neither Ernie nor Erica revealed any of the
information Chief had given them. Although they went along the boundary to the
Priory quite frequently in the course of their work, none had seen any women. "I
reckon they're just a bunch of queers," Fred Holden expounded, "Stands to
reason, get all them men together where no one can see what they're up to, it's
bound to happen. It's a secret society of homos."
"How big is this place?" Erica asked, "From the wall, you can only see the tops
of a few chimneys. The building is hidden by trees."
"You ought to go and see John Harris," one of the other farm workers at the
breakfast table stated, "He was gardener when the old friars were there. Take
him to the Daneburgh Arms and buy him a pint or two and he'll tell you about the
place."
"You'll have to watch Erica," Marjorie laughed, "Even if he is eighty-eight, he
still tries it on with all the ladies. Wait till he's had couple of pints ask
him to tell you about how he had to get married. He'll give all the rude details
when his tongue is loosened by the beer."
Later than morning they did just that. John, a kindly, sprightly white haired
old man in his late eighties, invited them into his home and regaled them with
stories of the Friars and the work he did in the gardens. It was his photographs
of the place that interested Ernie and Erica most, especially as many were of
the kitchen garden and flower beds at the back of the house and showed the
servants entrances to the building. However, it was at the pub later he revealed
a little snippet of information the pair thought would be of great use. It was
hidden in a rather bawdy story of his early life.
"Me wife wuz a maid at the Priory when I first when to work there and I met 'er
a few times when I 'ad to take vegetables to the kitchen. I thought she wuz a
bit of orl right so I gave her the line and pinched a kiss or two. She didna
seem to mind even when I got a feel of her arse. It wasn't long before we began
to go out t'gether but them friars were pretty strict about us not being alone
together, at least not in their grounds. They didna have much control over what
we did outside, but they could threaten us with the sack. It was a pretty idle
threat though cuz at that time there was full employment and good workers were
difficult to come by. The old boilers were coal fed in them days and when the
coal came they took it through a small door at the far side, and half hidden by
a couple of trees. It had a padlock on but I found the key and filed another
that would fit so I could get into the coal cellar and from there up the back
stairs to Elsie's room. Spent a good few nights in her bed for some six months
until one of the other maids who I'd teased a bit too and knew she also fancied
me, split on us and the abbot came and caught us. I was good looking in them
days, not like the wizened old thing I am now and tried to get me end away with
all the girls. It was one of 'em days when everything seems to go wrong. Elsie
had just told me she was pregnant and we would have to get married. I wasn't
adverse to that as I had intended to ask her sometime anyways. She was crying a
bit and I was trying to comfort her, both of us starkers when the abbot walks in
and threatens to throw us out on the street, on the fields as it was around here
then. We both pleaded with him and we pointed out I was going to marry her and
that she was carrying a child. In the end he agrees cuz we were both good
workers but he says to us, "If I let you stay you will have to get married
within a month and you will have to allow us to castigate and scourge your sin
of fornication on holy premises out of you. Both of you."
"Neither of us knew quite what he meant by castigate and scourge but we wanted
to keep our jobs as we had enjoyed working there. So we agreed. We just thought
we get the cane or something. That was common enough in them days. I reckon I
'ad the cane a dozen times while I wuz at school. Elsie had 'ad the slipper.
Girls got theirs in the head's office by the lady teacher but us boys had to tak
ours in front of the class. We knew the friars were also punished at times but
we never saw it, nor knew what they were punished for. It didn't seem to happen
all that off'n but we knew when it had cuz the friar would be very gentle
sitting for several days. Elsie and me had off'n talked about why. One friar
just said it was pennytense or some such but didn't explain. We didn't think it
was for trying to get their cocks into the two maids or the old cook who were
the only girls in the place. Elsie said they never ever tried in on with her and
the other maid said the same. Everything was always very correct with them
friars.
Anyways, the old abbot didn't give us anytime together to discus it but I was
shoved out of the room and forbidden to enter the house even for meals until
after we were married except I had to be in the chapel at six a.m. on Sunday
morning. I gets there on time and Elsie is brought in and both of us are made to
kneel in front of the altar. The friars were singing their chants. Quite good at
it they were too although I know I hardly heard it. When they stopped the abbot
told us to pray for forgiveness and he was going to do the same for us. He
started a singing chant but as they wuz in churchie latin we couldn't
understand. All of them then took up a chant and there was incense and candles
smoking. Very theatrical. When it stopped I was led from the chapel into the
vestry and the door locked. Faintly I could hear the chants start up agin and I
thought I could hear yells from Elsie but couldn't be sure about the other
noise. It stopped for a while and then I was taken into the chapel. Elsie wasn't
anywhere is sight.
"Kneel over the table," the old abbot told me. It was low and solid and when I
did a belt was put round me to hold me down. The singing stuff started again. "I
am now going to ask God to bless this instrument for the deliverance of your
sin." He put it on a Bible in front of me. I ne'er seen anything like it. Looked
like what I 'eard an ol' fashion birch looked like but this one was more like
six riding crops in one handle. It looked fearsome and I wondered then if Elsie
had had the same. Abbot continued to spout in his lingo and then the 'scourge'
as they called it was taken up by Friar Michael and the Bible moved. "John
Harris with this scourge we will expiate your sins. You will receive eight
strokes, the same as the other sinner." Abbot told me in english and then they
began to chant. My trousers and pants were pulled down so my bum was bared to
all. Again I wondered if they had done that to my Elsie. I never felt pain like
it. Friar Michael laid it on hard. Lines of red-hot fire crossed my arse. I
didna think I could tak eight like that but I had to. I know I yelled and
screamed and swore but it made no difference.
When it was over, I was helped up and half-carried out of the chapel to my
cottage. I never see'd Elsie agin to the following Saturday when we were
married. All week I could only hobble about and for three days I didn't try and
sit. Cook told me Elsie was in much the same state but would be all right.
Can't be many couples that hobble down the aisle to get married with whip marks
across their bums. Elsie's was much the same as mine when we examined each other
later. They had bared her bum too but no one interfered with her sexually. It
was punishment pure and simple. The were fervent believers, not the queers that
we think are in there now."
Ernie had to surreptitiously move his cock to a more comfortable position and
Erica felt quite wet between her thighs by the end of the story. They tried to
get some idea of the inside layout of the place from John but it seemed as if
his mind was well back in the past.
"One other odd thing," John went on just as they thought, he'd finished, "We had
that baby, a boy, but try as we might we never had another. We allus reckoned
Elsie's body reacted to the thrashing and decided if having a baby caused that
much pain it wasna going to do it again."
