Ties That Bind

The Ties That Bind ♥ L.J. LaBarthe

IT was, Lucas thought, strange and wonderfully good fortune by which he had come to be where he was at this point in his life. As a graduate student from Cambridge’s prestigious history department, residing in the college town as one of many like him, Lucas had found both the perfect subject for his post-graduate study and the love of his life. Lucas had moved from student accommodations to a flat in a private boarding house where another eight graduate students studying at Cambridge also lived. The house was old and riddled with damp, but it was more than adequate living for a group of students who enjoyed partying in between their studies. The rent was cheap, and the landlord was a good chap, given to shaking his head with wry amusement at his tenants and turning a blind eye toward the more rowdy parties often held in the house. “Need a hand, mate?” Lucas turned at the voice and smiled ruefully. He was in the process of trying to maneuver his mattress up the stairs to his room. “God, yes. Thanks.”

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“I’m Paul.” The owner of the voice grinned. “I’d shake hands, but I think you need both of ‘em to keep that thing steady.” He nodded at the mattress. Lucas laughed. “Yeah, it’s a bit harder than I thought it was going to be. I’m Lucas, by the way.” “Well, Lucas, two of us should make it easier.” Paul moved to join Lucas on the stairs, and together they started to push the mattress upward. It took a while and involved a great deal of sweating and cursing, but finally they had it inside Lucas’s bedsit. “Thank God!” Lucas groaned as they pushed the mattress into place on the bed frame. “Those stairs weren’t really made for moving furniture easily.” Paul laughed as he rubbed his hands on his jeans. “When I moved in, it took three of us to get the mattress up the stairs and into the room. Then there was the nightmare of moving in the bar fridge—I tell you, never have I been so relieved to get to sleep the night I finished moving in.” Lucas laughed as well. “I can imagine. Can I get you a beer?” “Thanks.” Paul sat down on the edge of the bed and accepted the beer Lucas took from the narrow fridge. “How did you get that up here by yourself, then?” “Oh, that came with the room,” Lucas said, joining Paul on the edge of the bed. “Thankfully I didn’t have to move that. Or buy a fridge—I don’t actually own one myself.”

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“Lucky,” Paul said, taking a swig of beer. “So have you met any of the others here?” Lucas shook his head. “Okay. Well, we’re a pretty mixed bunch. There’s Carla, she’s seeing Tom who lives on campus, and then there’s Sarah and Andrew. They’re twins; they have a two-bedroom bedsit-type affair on the top floor. It sounds bigger than it is,” he added as he took in Lucas’s raised eyebrow. “I’ll take your word for it,” Lucas replied. “You’ll see it for yourself eventually. They throw a lot of the parties here. We’ve got the communal lounge room downstairs, and that opens into the dining room and kitchen. The kitchen is huge; we have group meals once a week, sort of a chill-out and calm-down session where we bitch about our degrees, all that stuff. Everyone makes one dish, we put it all on the table, and then just…” he made a digging motion with his free hand, “everyone digs in!” “That sounds really good,” Lucas replied enthusiastically. “Although I’m not the world’s best cook.” Paul winked. “Neither am I. Anyway, where was I…. Tony lives in a bedsit even smaller than this one; then there’s me, obviously. My girlfriend lives with her grandmother in town. And now there’s you!” Lucas couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of him. “Sounds like quite the party house.”

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Paul drained his beer and set the empty bottle down on the floor. “It can be, yeah. But we’re also serious about our degrees, so we know when to stop partying and get down to work. Anyway, unless you need some more help, I’ll leave you to get settled.” Lucas stood up and shook Paul’s hand. “Thanks; I’ve got it from here, I think.” “Well, if you need a hand, give me a yell. I’m two doors down the hall.” Paul gestured and moved toward the door. “Welcome to the house, Lucas.” “Thanks.” Lucas grinned.

THERE was, Lucas thought after the first communal dinner, something calming about the group dinners in the main kitchen, like a soothing balm to a life of research and reports and note-taking. The food was a mishmash of culinary styles and cuisines: everything from curry to salad to mashed potato to vegetarian hamburgers. Lucas found it very easy to relax with everyone, drinking cheap wine and eating good food with new friends who understood the pressure of maintaining good marks and succeeding in academia. Lucas’s flat was tiny—one room with a small area for the bathroom and another for a kitchenette portioned off— but it was close to the college and suited Lucas perfectly. It was furnished in what could only be described as “shabby

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uni student chic,” the second-hand furniture including a sagging, thread-worn sofa, a mismatched armchair, and a large bed. There was little room to move with the sofa pressed against the foot of the bed and the chair squashed between a wall and Lucas’s desk, but it was his, and it was home. Being a young gay man looking to obtain his masters in medieval British history, the flat and the area it was in were exactly what he wanted. It was small enough to keep tidy when he didn’t have a lot of spare time due to his studies and close enough to the town to go to the pubs and clubs while being within an easy walking distance of the university itself. Lucas had been living in the house for a few weeks when he was told there was going to be a party. Not usually one for large gatherings, he felt a little out of place as the house filled with people laughing and talking, drinking and eating, wandering in and out of the building. “You okay?” It was Paul, the housemate Lucas felt the most comfortable with. “Yeah, just a bit… shy, I suppose.” Lucas shook his head at himself. “I’m not usually a big party person.” “Ah.” Paul nodded. “No one would think badly of you if you went upstairs to your flat rather than hanging out down here, you know,” he added. Lucas was about to answer when a young man with dark, wavy hair caught his eye. He’d seen him before—

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usually visiting Andrew—but had never asked who he was. Now, however, he couldn’t help himself. “Who’s that?” Paul followed Lucas’s gaze. “That’s Matt, a friend of Andrew’s. He’s been helping him with some Latin translations. You want an introduction?” He winked, and Lucas blushed to the roots of his hair. “Yeah.” Lucas tried to keep his voice light and nonchalant, despite the fact that his face felt as if it were on fire. “Thanks.” Paul grinned knowingly. “You’re welcome, Lucas.” He raised his voice and called out, “Hey, Matt! C’mere!” Matt had sparkling green eyes and a slight upturn to the corners of his lips that made Lucas want to grin broadly. He joined them, his expression a combination of amused and curious, and Paul made the introductions. “Hi,” Matt said as he took Lucas’s hand in his own, and Lucas felt himself fall as if pushed off a cliff as he stared into those eyes. “Um,” Lucas replied, blushing even harder, “hi.” Matt laughed, a warm sound, and Lucas joined in. “Breathe,” Matt advised. “I don’t know if I can,” Lucas blurted and then groaned at himself as Matt laughed loudly. “I’m flattered,” Matt teased.

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“Really? Because I feel very stupid right now,” Lucas admitted. “Yeah.” Matt nodded. “It’s cute. You’re cute.” Lucas realized at that moment that he could easily fall in love with this man. “This is going to sound so stupid,” he said shyly, “but, maybe, do you want to come up to my flat for a drink sometime?” “How about now?” countered Matt. “Now is good.” Lucas nodded. “Now’s very good.”

THAT had been nearly two years ago, Lucas thought fondly as he gazed out of the library window over the college lawns. Nearly two years ago that Matt had entered his life. Matt was a quiet young man with a quick wit and quicker temper who was reading divinity at Cambridge. He had chosen to live in Selwyn College, not just because it was near to the College of Divinity, but also because of its proximity to the river. They had hit it off immediately, going on dates and studying together, until they were spending almost every moment with each other. Eighteen months ago, Matt had moved into Lucas’s bed-sit at Lucas’s invitation. The flat was really too small for two people, especially two people who were studying for their postgraduate degrees, but eventually the two of them became accustomed to the small living quarters.

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Life since meeting Matt had been full of joy for Lucas. In those nearly two years, there had been laughter aplenty and unwavering support and love. In all the time the two men had been seeing each other, Lucas could not find a single thing that he regretted. The absolute height of this period of his life had involved two things. The first was making headway with his thesis entitled Richard the Lionheart: A Gay King or a Misunderstood Man? Sexual Tolerance in the Time of Richard I. The second was the proposal of marriage from his beloved Matt. That they had occurred on the same day was a fortunate happenstance; Lucas loved Matt with everything he had, and he loved his studies and the history he was writing about almost as much. Lucas felt as if he were the luckiest man alive. The two things he loved most in the world filled his life, and the simple gold band etched with Celtic knot work upon his ring finger, a match for the ring upon Matt’s own, spoke of their commitment to each other and their unwavering determination to marry. Lucas was fascinated by Richard the Lionheart and the controversy among scholars of that period in history regarding Richard’s sexuality, tolerance, and acceptance of same-sex relationships. It led him to choose that very subject for his thesis. There was evidence of the Early Church in the Roman and Byzantine eras supporting, and in some cases, endorsing same-sex marriages. This acceptance within the Early Church led Lucas to puzzle sadly upon the circumstances under which tolerance and acceptance had waned and turned into the exact opposite. Having grown up

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in the culture of the late twentieth century, which generally allowed people to freely embrace their sexuality, Lucas could not imagine what it would be like to live in a place where such things were prohibited and considered worthy of punishment through imprisonment or worse. In Lucas’s opinion, Richard I of England had been a bad king—the history books were quick to speak of his failings— but he had also been strangely tolerant of that aspect of society, which seemed at odds with everything else written about the man’s character. Lucas stretched and recalled the conversation he’d had with Matt the previous evening. They had been reading— Matt lying on the old, green wool sofa with its threadbare arms, his feet in Lucas’s lap, heavily engrossed in the latest crime bestseller, and Lucas reading one of the many biographies of Richard I of England. There was a chapter that teased at his naturally inquisitive nature, a discussion regarding Richard’s relationship with his peer, Philip II, King of France that alluded to experiences Richard had endured during his imprisonment in Austria and his return to England upon his release. There was something there, Lucas thought, something that was important, a reason why one of the most enthusiastically studied rulers of medieval England had shown remarkable restraint for the time regarding homosexuality and sexual equality. Particularly, he mused, as it had been that self-same Richard who had persecuted and killed hundreds of Jews prior to embarking upon his Holy Crusade to Outremer—the Holy Land—in 1191.

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Matt, ever sensitive to his lover’s moods, had closed his book. He lightly tapped his toes against Lucas’s thigh to get his attention. “What are you reading about now, love?” Lucas had looked up and blinked and then smiled fondly in reply. “I’ve just found something, but I’m not entirely sure where to go from here.” “Ah,” Matt teased, “the eternal cry of the post-grad student.” “Of all students, brat,” Lucas teased in return. “True.” Matt grinned. “So what have you found?” “Well,” Lucas had shifted a little so that he could look at his lover while they talked, one hand resting comfortably on Matt’s shins, “it seems that something fairly significant happened to Richard when he was in Austria and when he got back here. But so far, apart from vague mentions of ‘something significant’,” he waved a hand in frustrated amusement, “no one—so far—seems to state what that something significant might actually be.” He paused for a moment, brows furrowing in thought. “Not to mention that there’s a lot of scholarly debate regarding whether he and Philip II of France had a relationship. It was Philip, after all, who asked that Richard be kept in prison—they’d been close before the Third Crusade, but something came between them, and I don’t think it was Berengaria, considering Richard only met her once before he married her in the state marriage his mother organised.”

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“Ah, the powerful Eleanor of Aquitaine.” Matt grinned. “So,” he continued, “you want to fill this gap in for your thesis?” He nodded, continuing before Lucas could reply. “I don’t know if it’s of any use to you, love, but I did read somewhere that he decreed that gay men could hold rank in the Church. Unfortunately, I don’t have the reference to hand, and it could be nothing more than a rumour anyway, recorded by gossiping monks.” “I bet that went down well.” Lucas shook his head in amusement. “In the era of the Crusades, when it was ‘kill the heathen and reclaim the Holy Lands’, I can’t see the Pope being too keen on that idea.” “Well, he wasn’t, really.” Matt shrugged. “Richard could talk for all he was worth, but no laws were passed on the matter, and homosexuality was further suppressed by Henry VIII when he took the throne and declared himself head of the Church of England and became officially recognized by the Parliament. But he’s quite a bit after Richard, so Henry’s thoughts on the subject wouldn’t really help you, would they?” Lucas sighed. “No, not really. But I’m telling you, Matt, there’s something here, something in this period between Austria and returning to England and reclaiming the throne from John. Something that historians don’t actually know for sure, but are leery of hypothesizing too much about. And that? It’s bloody weird, that is.” “Historians unwilling to hypothesize? Never!” Matt laughed and then grew serious. “You’ve definitely got a point,

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though. And now you’ve made me curious. First thing tomorrow we’ll go to the history library and see what we can find. After all, two pairs of eyes combing the stacks are better than one, right?” Lucas leaned forward and kissed his lover, lips gently brushing Matt’s. “I really do love you, you know,” he murmured. Matt hummed softly, curling a hand around the back of Lucas’s neck, pulling him closer. “Mm. I really love you too.”

SO now here Lucas was, reading various books about how Richard was imprisoned in Austria by Duke Leopold V; how Richard’s mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine, had worked to raise the funds for his ransom; how Richard had spoken only French; and how he had been imprisoned with those of his retainers who had travelled with him when he had left Corfu. He read about how the Duke had handed Richard and his retainers over to Henry VI, the Holy Roman Emperor, and how Philip II and Richard’s brother, John, had offered a vast sum of money to keep Richard imprisoned until Michaelmas of 1194. All these details, dry historical facts, Lucas already knew. What eluded him were the important things: the reasons for Richard’s tolerance towards the medieval British homosexual community upon his return to England.

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With a sigh, Lucas set aside his book and picked up another, one that was part of a great stack of materials published at various times after the Industrial Revolution. He didn’t hold out much hope of finding anything useful, but he had decided that this was the focus of his thesis even though it had become something more, something that Lucas wanted to find for himself. What could make a man so obviously set in his ideas and his prejudices be so lenient on an issue that would have been considered so radical and heretical for his time? There was a great deal of academic speculation that Richard’s tolerance had been born of the affection he held for Philip II even after their friendship had waned. Lucas dismissed that as the reason out of hand. Historians and scholars felt that too much emphasis had been placed on records stating that the two men ate from the same dish and slept in the same bed, believing that these acts had been no more than political in nature, symbolic of a political union and not any reflection upon the sexuality of the two men. Two men, world leaders of their time, coming together in such a way would have been documented more thoroughly, although the twelfth century chronicler, Roger of Hoveden, who had recorded those events, seemed to feel that it was extraordinary enough to warrant mention and speculation. No, it was definitely something else, and it was Richard’s time in Austria that held the key. Lucas was sure of it. He had requested several books from the library at the University of Vienna that would be, he hoped, more detailed about Richard’s incarceration. Shaking himself out of his

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thoughts, Lucas returned his attention back to the book in his hands and began to leaf through to the index, looking for something that would be useful. When he saw it, Lucas didn’t quite realize what it was at first. He blinked several times, half afraid that his eyes were playing tricks on him, but no: there it was. Homosexual, Love – pg 118. With trembling fingers, Lucas flipped the book open to the page and began to read.

IN the year 1192, Richard I was transported to the prison of Dürnstein, part of the Holy Roman Empire. Unbeknownst to him, there was a political battle going on between his mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine, the King of France, Philip II, and Richard’s own brother, John, Regent. The latter did not wish Richard to return to England , while his mother very much sought his release. Richard’s wife, Berengaria, was said to have had no opinion on the matter, due to what was described in the “Letters between a Queen and her Mother,” as an indifference to the marriage, which was performed with the sole intention of begetting heirs to the throne. Although, Berengaria wrote, it would be impossible to conceive as her husband, Richard I, never consecrated their marriage in the royal bedchamber. If he were as ardent a lover as she had heard, why then did he not go to her, his wife? It was only when she had found Richard in the embrace of one of his retainers, a man she knew only as William, that she had understood the situation. Richard had forced her to promise

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under oath to both Church and State not to divulge what she had seen to anyone. William, for he was never mentioned as having rank or being from a particular borough or town, was Richard’s constant companion. Letters that survived, sent between the Holy Roman Emperor and the Duke of Austria, spoke of how the two men were inseparable. In Outremer, Richard had taken a young man, Raife de Clemon, as his lover, although information about this union is scanty at best. Also in Outremer, for example, William was seen to have saved Richard’s life by placing himself between his king and a Saracen arrow. William’s subsequent wound had been tended to by Richard himself and thereafter by Richard’s own personal physicians. In their disguise as lowly pilgrims after their departure from Corfu, all who had seen them together had noticed at once that the two were inseparable. It was never spoken of directly, but the letters discussed how various folk questioned when Richard had been imprisoned with his six retainers—including the honoured William—had seen the two men touch each other, how one would take the other’s hand and kiss it, and how they would look at each other with obvious affection such as a man might have for a woman. Richard and his retainers, including William, were held at Dürnstein for three years. During that time they underwent the usual tortures and horrors inflicted upon prisoners who knew valuable information. It was the thought of Philip II and Henry VI himself, that if they could but break Richard, they would be able to ally themselves and take England and the English lands in France from under the power of the English

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throne. Richard, however, would not give them the information that they so desired. Three of his retainers died during torture; it was not until William was placed upon the rack and Richard was made to watch that it seemed the king might break. Conrad of Dürnstein, the prison scribe, was present at all sessions and took copious notes, many which have survived to this day. It was his recording of the last interrogation session of William before Richard’s release that gives us the deepest insight into the man behind the title of Coeur de Lion. Conrad wrote that the king wept as William was tortured, that he begged for their tormentors to stop and said that he would tell them what they wished to know if only they would cease their torture of William. It was William, however, who stayed the king from revealing those state secrets that would have without doubt destroyed England’s sovereignty. “My liege,” William said, “do not despair and do not give in. Know that I love thee as I know that thou lovest me. Thou must remain strong, for thou art the King of our beloved Land, and e’en should I die here, our love will live in thy heart and thy soul until we are reunited after the death of flesh. Remember, my Lord, St. Sergius and St. Bacchus, those noble Roman warriors who were married under God and loved each other in matrimony, who were killed as Christian heretics. Remember, my Lord, the words of St. Bacchus unto St. Sergius that he must be brave for they wouldst be reunited with each other in Heaven. Such is the will of Christ our Lord, and such is the strength of our love. I implore thee, my Liege, do not yield to these miscreants who defile their rank and station by their actions! Do not give them what they seek.

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Instead remain strong and steadfast, remain as thou hast always been—Richard, King of England, Coeur de Lion, Knight of the Holy Cross and my beloved, my true heart.” Conrad then went on to write that at these words, Richard wept but did not give the information so desperately sought, and that his weeping continued as his beloved William died upon the rack.

LUCAS read and reread the words. This was what he had been looking for, and there were footnotes that told him where the records of the writings of the scribe Conrad and others were preserved. Shaking with excitement, he got up hastily, the chair he’d been sitting in falling over with a loud clatter. Pausing only long enough to right the chair, Lucas ran through the history library to the photocopier and made copies of the passages and the notations he had just read. Then he went to the library counter and waited impatiently to make an interlibrary loan request for the books he now knew would contain the information that he needed. Matt came over to join him as Lucas was putting in his loan request, smiled in loving tolerance of his partner’s excitement, and watched as the librarian gave Lucas a receipt and told him the books would probably be in by the end of the month—in three weeks. It was too long for Lucas, but at least now, thanks to the book he had just read, he

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knew where to start looking. Turning to his lover, Lucas’ smile of triumph lit up his entire face. “I found something!” Matt kissed Lucas’s cheek. “I’m proud of you, love.” Lucas grinned, and, book in one hand, grabbed his lover with the other and spun him around in a circle.

THE weather was good, particularly for the middle of September. Lucas had been reading and rereading his notes, jotting down questions to which he had no answers. At least, no answers yet. The flat he and Matt shared was so small that keeping all their notes and books without falling over them had presented something of a challenge, and after pondering the situation for a few days after Matt had first moved in, Lucas had devised a sort of filing cabinet beneath the bed, taking up all the room and accessible from both sides. Bookshelves had been installed on nearly every wall, and under the large windows sat the two small desks holding their laptop computers. Lucas was interrupted from his scrutiny of his notes by Matt clearing his throat. Loudly. He looked up and blinked, absently reaching for his packet of cigarettes. “Huh?” Matt looked amused. “I think you need to take a break, love. There’s a whole week more until the books come in

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from Vienna. How about we go for a walk, maybe visit Cambridge Castle?” Lucas blinked again but then grinned. “Yeah, okay.” Ten minutes later, hand in hand, the two were heading toward the site of what had once been an eleventh-century fortress. All that remained of it now was the motte, a mound of grass-covered earth that was common in the time when fortresses and castles were constructed. The site had been one of Lucas’s reasons for becoming fascinated by medieval history, an interest that was partly due to the fact that the stones used to construct the castle had been torn down and put to use in building Cambridge University itself. It was a pleasant walk along the streets of Cambridge toward the site, Lucas letting go of his lover’s hand so that he could slip his arm around Matt’s shoulders. With Matt’s arm around his waist, the two of them walked at a leisurely pace, calling out greetings to people they knew and acknowledging the greetings of others. In between, they talked about Lucas’s quest and about their marriage plans. “So that little bit that you found about William and Raife de Clemon,” Matt said as they began to walk up the steep incline that led to the site of Cambridge Castle, “do you think that there’ll be more detailed information in the books that you requested? I mean, you’ll need something a bit more tangible to back up the hypothesis that those two men, William in particular, were the reason King Richard was so tolerant in a period that wasn’t particularly tolerant of much at all.”

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Lucas nodded. “Yeah, I know. Somehow, though, I think it’ll be in one of those books. I don’t know which one, and I honestly don’t care, just as long as it is in one of them. But I have to believe.” Matt regarded his lover with a raised eyebrow. “Okay, I’ve never asked you this, but… why is it so important to you? I mean, others have covered this subject in various detail, so it’s not really groundbreaking, although it is fascinating.” There was a pause as Lucas gathered his thoughts. “Well,” he began slowly, “to be honest, I’m not entirely sure. But… I look at the news and read the papers and see all this stuff about prejudice and persecution of loving couples simply because they’re gay. It just… it’s draconian. I mean, you’re the divinity scholar; the Bible has something in there about ‘love thy neighbour’ and all.” “Several somethings, as a matter of fact,” Matt said, amused. Lucas went on. “It strikes me as hypocritical and also really bloody sad. We live in a country where we’re bloody lucky to have the rights and freedoms that we do, and most people don’t even know what the history of it all is.” He shrugged and continued. “It’s important to me, because I think we—as in the whole gay and lesbian community—need to know that we’re not alone, that we’re not the first. We need to know that the rights and freedoms we have were just as important to our ancestors as they are to us. To honour the love that gave them life. Does that make sense?”

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“‘Honour the love that gave them life,’“ Matt repeated softly. “Love, that’s beautiful. And I think in that one phrase, you’ve explained it perfectly.” Lucas laughed. “You’re biased about my brilliance, baby.” “Yes, well.” Matt affected an air of educated loftiness that made Lucas laugh harder. “You do have assets that assist your arguments remarkably well.” “You just like my arse,” Lucas teased, grinning. “Damn right,” Matt replied, winking. “It’s a very sexy arse, my Lucas, and it’s all mine.” By this time they had reached the edge of the motte of the castle. Lucas looked up at it, shielding his eyes against the glare of the sun with one hand. “It’s pretty,” he said simply. Matt kissed his cheek. “And it’s a sign that things can endure, no matter what,” he murmured. Lucas looked at him curiously, and Matt flushed, looking down at the grass beneath his feet, his demeanor one of sudden shyness. “Well, you’re looking into this thing with Richard and his lovers, and I’m looking at the liturgies of the seventeenth century. I have to believe in something too, Lucas. I have to believe, that no matter what, something built on a solid foundation—like the castle there, or like us, or like the

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amazing music I’m studying—can last and survive whatever comes. The good, the bad, and the in-between.” Lucas looked at Matt for a long moment and then took his lover’s hands in his own. “Matt,” he said softly, “you will never have to worry that we, you and me, won’t last, okay? I love you. That’s all there is to it.” He gently tugged Matt to him and wrapped his arms around him as he leaned in and kissed his lover. Matt sighed softly, kissing Lucas back, and Lucas purred happily as he felt his lover’s hands tangle in his hair. This—he and Matt—this was the reason he would find out what had happened with Richard and his lovers. Because, Lucas thought as he kissed Matt with all the passion and love he felt for him, some things should not ever be denied or forgotten. Matt ended the kiss and smiled at his lover. “I’m surprised you don’t want to get married up here,” he teased. Lucas looked around them, taking in the view of Cambridge and the thick green grass that stretched around them. “I certainly wouldn’t object,” he mused. “I don’t know if it would be allowed, though.” “Ah, those pesky Royal Heritage laws.” Matt grinned as Lucas opened his mouth to defend those laws and laughed as his lover realized he was being teased. “Seriously, though, maybe we could have the service in that park at the foot of the hill, so the ruins are above us? Could make for some nice wedding photos.”

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Lucas nodded. “I like that idea. Then we could go to the inn down the lane there for our reception.” “I was just going to suggest that.” Matt nodded, hands clasped around his lover’s neck. “It’s a good thing we don’t have a big guest list.” Lucas shrugged. “I just don’t think we need to have a big ceremony. We’re getting married for us, not for everyone else. We only need to have the people we’re closest to come to the service; if other people want to join us at the reception, that’s fine. But I think that the service should be for us.” “Okay.” Matt nodded. “You’ve got a good point, and I agree. It’s very romantic though.” Lucas flushed slightly. “I’m not romantic,” he protested half-heartedly, and Matt started to laugh. “Okay, I might be a little romantic, but don’t tell anyone!” Lips twitching with mirth, Matt nodded. “Your secret is safe with me.” “Good.” Lucas kissed Matt then, a soft, gentle kiss. “I love you, you know.” “You do? What an amazing thing!” But Matt kissed Lucas in return and murmured against lips chafed from the almost persistent breeze, “I love you, too.” “Mm. Words that are music to my ears,” Lucas replied, and he kissed Matt again, pulling him close.

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WHEN the books arrived and Lucas received the e-mail notification from the History library, he barreled out of the flat so fast that he forgot to put shoes on. Matt was laughing at him when Lucas sheepishly returned, pushing his hair out of his face as he dug out his boots and pulled them on. He stuck his tongue out at his lover and then kissed him quickly. “Not going to hear the end of that one, huh?” “Hmm… not for a while, no.” Matt grinned. “Go. Read. Tell me what you find.” “I shall.” Lucas grinned back and headed out once more, this time with his shoes on. He jogged across the lawns to the library, entered quickly, and headed straight to the information desk. The librarian took his student card and handed him the books, issued the usual injunction to take care of them and return them promptly, and Lucas nodded his thanks, barely hearing the words. With hands trembling in anticipation, he carried the six heavy volumes to a desk by the window and sat down to read. Despite all his hopes, Lucas had been plagued with doubt. It was entirely possible there was nothing to support his theory in the books he had requested, and he took a deep breath, steeling himself for a let down. Carefully, he opened the first book, a reprint of the English translations of the

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writings of Conrad of Dürnstein. The book was beautifully bound, soft brown leather and creamy pages stiff with age. The reprint had been done in the eighteenth century, and there was a brief notation on the frontispiece explaining that the writings had been meticulously copied by order of the Royal Court in England. There was no index, but then Lucas hadn’t expected there to be one. He carefully looked at the dates that prefaced each record that Conrad had made until he came to the ones dated the year 1192. He was so shocked by the revelation of the first paragraph that he almost dropped the book.

RICHARD would not speak in any language other than French. He refused to answer questions put to him in English or Latin. There was little that he said that was of use to the great Holy Roman Empire and our beloved Emperor, Henry VI. He said only one thing as he was held against the rack, as the usual implements were used against his body. He said, “I am born of a rank which recognises no superior but God.” He did not speak again until he was taken off the rack. As he was being taken to his cell, he said the only thing in Latin he had or would ever say while in Dürnstein. “Ye hath sullied my flesh and tried to lay me low; ye hath killed he whom I have loved and continue to love, and so thou shalt know that when I return unto Britannia, I will enact a law that will honour his memory forever and hold our love equal to all others. None may gainsay me, save God himself. Know also that I shall

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wreak upon thee a vengeance so complete that thy frail pleas for mercy shall not be sufficient to stay the hand of justice. In the name of love I defy thee, Henry, and Philip also; in the name of love I swear vengeance and justice upon thee and all who hath traded with the Devil in this place of sin and despair.

LUCAS sat back, blinking. There it was. Now if the rest of the book would provide him with more information just as useful… He read on, turning the pages carefully, but the majority of the accounts had to do with Richard’s continued silence and the deal brokered between Eleanor of Aquitaine and Henry VI for his release. There was a brief mention of a petition made to Henry by Philip II of France and John, Richard’s brother, to postpone Richard’s release until Michaelmas of 1194 and the refusal of Henry to accept the proposal or the monetary incentive that accompanied it. Lucas set the book down and let out an explosive breath. He would be copying that passage carefully. Licking his lips, he took the next volume and opened it. This book was a print of a translation of letters between Richard and his mother, written upon his return to England and his reclaiming of the crown. The original letters had been written in French, as Richard did not speak English, having spent so much of his life living in France with his mother despite being the heir to the English throne, and

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Eleanor writing in her native tongue. He had returned to his land not as a king, but as a nameless vagabond, wishing to see the state of things before revealing himself to his enemies and friends. This was already a part of the myth and legend of Britain—the stories of Robin Hood and his men in Sherwood Forest were things that Lucas was already well acquainted with, so he skimmed over those parts of the book, until he got to the letters dated late 1194. He read them carefully, several times over, his eyes wide.

“AND so I say unto thee, my Mother, that I shalt not bow to the pressure of the Church in Rome. I shalt have my way, and none shalt force me to do otherwise, for I, Richard, am the lawful king of England, by right and by birth. I hath gone on Crusade, taken Holy Orders, and been purged of my sins. I accept no power on earth greater than God himself. I rule in England, and my will shalt be done. Do not speak to me, Mother, of foolish fancies or flights of whim. I am the King; my word law. And so shalt it be here in England, until the end of days. There is a great wrong, my Mother, and it matters not to me if thou agree or disagree. I shalt not be swayed by thine words, though thine oratory is most potent. If thou lovest me as thou sayest, thou wilt accept mine decisions and say nought to stir rebellion against them. Has not England seen sufficient rebellion and despair? I am her King, and her Lord,

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and law maker. Dieu et mon droit, my Mother. God and MY right.”

LUCAS knew that even if he’d gone to the British Museum and pleaded to see their collection of artifacts from Richard’s reign that he would not have found anything more compelling than this. He read the rest of the letters carefully, making notes in a spiral-bound notebook as he went, and then read through the rest of the books. They expanded and clarified the passage that was so important, the translation of the primary source that identified the beginnings of Richard’s tolerance and the passages from Conrad’s writings. At the end of a very long day spent huddled over books and scribbling notes, Lucas went to the special resources room and watched anxiously as the librarian in charge copied the passages carefully on the special photocopier designed for the specific purpose of photocopying old and rare books and manuscripts. Perhaps he was being paranoid, Lucas thought, as he asked for five copies of each page, but he wanted to be safe rather than sorry; it would be better to have too many copies than not enough. When he returned to the flat, tired but jubilant, a headache beginning to pound in his temples, he was greeted by his lover, who took one look at him and gently pressed him onto the sofa to rest while he made dinner. Lucas didn’t argue, relaxing as he stretched out, his book bag on the floor

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beside him, his notebook in his hands as he read and reread the notes he’d made. When Matt returned with food, Lucas ate with a single-minded intensity that made Matt regard him with concern. When he’d finished and set the plate on the floor, Lucas sat back and smiled at his lover—a tired smile to be sure, but one that was full of happiness and pride in his success. “I found it, Matt, I found it!” Matt smiled back, unable to resist the strength of Lucas’s enthusiasm. “That’s wonderful, love!” Lucas leaned over and pulled his lover onto his lap. “Thank you,” he murmured, gently stroking Matt’s hair. “For what?” Matt looked confused. “For putting up with me while I’ve been hunting down this information.” Matt chuckled softly. “Nothing to thank me for, love. Just remember,” and he smirked, “when I’m chasing down liturgies that may or may not exist, how supportive I was of you, okay?” “Brat,” Lucas teased. “Of course I will. Now, do you want to know what I found?” “Definitely.” Matt settled into his lover’s arms and Lucas began to talk. “So, as I thought, it was because Richard’s lover, William, was killed in Dürnstein. I found letters to his

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mother that supported that. Seems that even though he and John never got on, John didn’t speak out against it or enact laws to make life difficult for the gay community because he thought that few people would take advantage of it anyway. It was forgotten about until Henry VIII came to the throne and passed laws regarding same-sex unions, secular and state laws which stayed that way until the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.” Matt nodded thoughtfully. “So it seems that Richard was quite the romantic, despite being a crusading knight in tons of armor?” Lucas laughed. “Don’t judge a book by its cover,” he teased, and Matt stuck his tongue out at him in reply. “But yeah,” he continued, “that’s essentially it.” “Did he say anything in those letters that struck a chord with you, love?” Lucas was silent for a moment. “You know me well,” he said softly. Then, “Yeah. He did. One thing he said to Eleanor in one of the letters was that ‘Love should ne’er be denied nor forgot’.“ A soft “oh” came from Matt, and Lucas smiled. “We should have that in our marriage vows,” Matt said seriously. Lucas stared at his lover and then kissed him. Between kisses, he whispered, “I love you, Matt.” “I love you too, Lucas.”

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“When we get married,” Matt murmured against Lucas’ lips, “maybe we should also include a reading from the notes you took.” “I know just the thing.” Lucas kissed Matt deeply, one hand sliding up to cup his cheek, the tips of his fingers slipping into the dark hair at Matt’s temple. “Oh?” Matt shifted a little, getting comfortable on Lucas’s lap, leaning close so he could kiss him again. “Yeah. William told Richard to be strong and not give up England, and he quoted a bit from the history of the Roman warriors St. Sergius and St. Bacchus, who were married in a Christian church and executed by Rome for religious heresy.” “They weren’t executed for gay marriage?” Matt’s surprised reaction made Lucas grin broadly. “This is in ancient Rome, remember?” Lucas continued to grin. “Ah yes, ancient Rome, city of decadence and just about anything a person could want.” Matt laughed. “Silly me.” Lucas chuckled. “Anyway, we could include that bit in our ceremony.” “All right.” Matt nodded. Then he smiled, a cheeky expression. “And when we’re married, you can be my knight in shining armour and carry me over the threshold before having your wicked way with me.”

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“What; I can’t have my wicked way with you now?” Lucas laughed softly. “Oh, I suppose.” Matt feigned an expression of tolerant long-suffering. “The things I do for love of you.” “Yes, you’re so hard done by.” Lucas was very amused. Matt waggled his eyebrows expressively. something, yes. Take me to bed, fiancé mine.”

“Hard

“Your wish is my command, lover mine.” Lucas replied extravagantly. He pulled Matt close and stood, his lover cradled in his arms. “Soon to be your wish is my command, my husband.” “I look forward to that day,” Matt breathed as he pressed slow, gentle kisses against the pale skin of Lucas’s neck. “Even if Richard the Lionheart couldn’t be with his lover like this, like us, getting married, if William hadn’t died I bet he would have found a way.” “No doubt,” Lucas agreed as he laid Matt down on their bed. “And yes, to your earlier statement.” “Which one was that?” Matt looked as if he was having trouble thinking, which was no wonder with Lucas’s body pressing him down onto the bed, hands sliding slowly and sinuously up and down his sides, Lucas’s soft, warm mouth kissing his jaw, his ear. “I’ll carry you over the threshold of our home on the night of our marriage,” Lucas purred in Matt’s ear.

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Matt shivered. “I was made for you,” he whispered as Lucas hummed against his skin. “Same,” Lucas whispered in reply. “Like Richard and William, our love won’t fade and die.”

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The Ties That Bind ♥ L.J. LaBarthe

L.J. LABARTHE is a thirty-six-year-old Australian woman living with disabilities and her cat. She has always loved books, music, and daydreaming. She has written stories since childhood, often drawing pictures to accompany her tales. She won a competition for drawing a picture of Australian Humpty Dumpty, complete with Aussie hat when she was a young child. The drawing was accompanied by an adventure story with Humpty Dumpty she wrote set in Australia. From that moment on, she has not looked back. L.J. spends her free time watching television and is an unashamed fan of Supernatural and Lost. She reads newspapers online for fun, loves a good novel, and enjoys the hobby of urban exploration: exploring abandoned buildings in the city and suburbs. She loves to cook and enjoys a snifter of absinthe from time to time. She would like to take a moment to let her university professor in creative writing know that knowledge of iambic pentameter isn't necessary in order to be able to enjoy the craft of writing, no matter how much he may have screamed to the contrary.

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The Ties That Bind ©Copyright L.J. LaBarthe, 2009 Published by Dreamspinner Press 4760 Preston Road Suite 244-149 Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover Design by Mara McKennen This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ Released in the United States of America June, 2009

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