Far beyond the borders of this humble realm exist a wide array of dangers too numerous to mention. In my capacity as an unknown scribe of dubious lineage, I will attempt to relate the incident that took place in the Hampshire manor shortly after a harsh and snowy Christmas of no particular significance. Early in my life, I was reluctantly slotted to take Holy Orders by my biological father who considered me an embarrassment to his lawfully wed spouse and children. I remember at the time that I had no particular opinion in the matter, just a desire to follow his instructions with the least possible obstruction.
I need to explain up front that my dismissal from consideration for a lifetime serving God was not at all my decision although I am responsible for the outcome. I was billeted at the convent of St. Agnes which has since been torn down and the sisters all shunted into the working cloisters of the Sisters of Mary. At that time, there was a certain element in the ranks of the good sisters that gave great credence to the joys of physical flesh and less to the dedicated improvement of spiritual character. Of course, I was totally unaware of this when I tended to the sister's needs for spiritual advice and found that I was becoming more of a "hands on" healer of female spirits rather than a tutor in matters of religious dogma. The final straw was when the visiting Mother Superior from London Town found me in bed with two of the newest arrivals at the convent and not a stitch of clothing between the three of us. It was a shaming experience but one that I would repeat again because of the collateral benefits derived from nightly visitations from nuns seeking solace.
I thought my biological father to be overly vexed with the scandal but was the first to admit it was entirely my own fault. My punishment was to be banned from all convents in the entire land and to lose any chance for Holy Orders in my lifetime. I thought that to be exceedingly fair since it was discovered no fewer than 3 of the good sisters had become pregnant after seeking my solace.
I was transferred to the North Country to serve the shadow monarch who never tired of plotting an overthrow of the current royalty. After his sudden demise caused by the loss of his head, his sister assumed command of the split-away populace in hopes that one day she would sit on the much desired throne. She was a strange creature spouting French as quickly as English and taking great relish in watching the sufferings of the denizens of the centralized detention spaces under the great castle of her domain.
The pitiful shrieks from the poor fellows incarcerated in the depths of the dungeon were anathema to my ears and I could not see how a female and a high-born one at that could possibly find any amusement in their plight. It was one of those areas of contention that made my further services at court unwanted both by myself and by my employers.
My father arranged for me to be a record keeper at the Hampshire manor which had a library and a courthouse of some repute. I fit easily into the everyday routine of the governmental management and soon was promoted to head scribe for all special occurrences and incidents of noteworthy distinction. I took care of all births, marriages, deaths and prison sentences for major crimes against the realm. I also handled odd happenings such as the blocking of the sunlight, falling stars and creatures of unknown origin.
My landlady at Hampshire manor was a noblewoman with the name of Godiva who had a reputation for protesting taxes and the like with unorthodox displays of dissent. It was extremely difficult for me to accept that she had actually ridden nude just to make a point about some unfair decision by the monarchy. Of course, I was several levels below the attractive female on the social rung and thus never had a chance to question her at length about the truth in the matter.
I did become quite close to Godiva's cousin Gwen who was afflicted with the need to keep her female stuffed with male sausages at every opportunity. We met at church services and I noticed she was tinkering with her female parts quite vigorously right in the middle of vespers. When she saw me looking, she just smiled and pulled me behind the baptismal fountain and told me,
"Stick it in like a good lad, if you don't mind. That's a good fellow!"
Due to the somewhat deprived use of my equipment since my departure from the alternate court, I hopped to the ready and serviced her to her satisfaction. It was a quick effort but since vespers tended to end without warning, time was of the essence to prevent us from being discovered and marked as fornicating sinners.
.... There is more of this story ...