Robin of Cocksley by Will B

Robin of Cocksley
by: Will B
© 2008 by the Author
Typos kindly corrected by E Walk.

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

The True Story of Two of England’s Most Beloved Heroes.

As originally told by Alan the Gay Minstrel.

Tuck and Dickon lay down and soon were lost in dreamland. Sometime in the middle of the night, Tuck half woke up and realized that Dickon was spooning him, and had his arm over Tuck’s shoulder. ‘Umm,’ Tuck thought to him, ‘That really feels nice.’

He woke up a little more and felt something large and stiff pressing against his butt. “Ummm,’ he thought, ‘That’s almost perfect!’

Still half asleep he reached behind him, and guided that large and stiff something toward the crease between his butt cheeks.

‘Uummmm, Better and better,’ he thought to himself. ‘I thought only the King had something so large.”

Tuck, suddenly came completely awake, sat up and said aloud, “Oh my dear Lord! The King! And I called him a fool. Oh, what will. . . .”

A hand came around from behind him and put it over his mouth. “Shhhh! Sweet Tuck, shhhh. We’ll talk in the morning, but for now, if you could just raise your leg a little . . . ?”

Chapter 3

In the morning Tuck and Dickon got up before the others, and went down to the steam, and Tuck scrubbed Dickon’s back.

Tuck drank in every aspect of Dickon’s beautiful body. His broad pectorals, with their tiny brown nipples, his chest and abdomen, covered by reddish gold hair, and the ridges of hard muscles in his abdomen, and its beautiful trail of darker hair leading to his proud-standing prick. Even flaccid, Dickon’s dick was thick and meaty and looked to be nine inches long. Tuck almost drooled as he remembered last night with that rampant rod, long and hard and smooth, gliding in and out of his arse. ‘No wonder he’s called Richard the Lion-cocked,’ Tuck thought to himself.

He remembered how after the king had shot his ropes of hot cream into Tuck’s tuckus, the king had turned Tuck toward him and kissed his eyes, his nose, and then his lips, and then moved his head down kissing and licking every inch of the way until he took Tuck’s more than ready cock into his own mouth and kissed, and licked, and ‘tongue-lashed’ it until Tuck also had his release, shooting his man-juice into Dickon’s mouth.

Dickon, as he bathed, also took in every aspect of Tuck’s body. He remembered the feel of the hairs on the inside of Tuck’s thighs upon his cheeks as he savored the smell of musk from Tuck’s balls, and the taste of Tuck’s ejaculate. Dickon had bedded many a squire and fellow knights, and had even impaled the Imperial Majesty of the Emperor of Germany, but he had never felt this way about any of his bed-partners before. ‘What’s happening to me,’ he asked himself?’

When they had dried themselves off, Dickon went to his saddlebag, and took out a tunic of white samite, interwoven with gold threads. Over this he put a loose robe of dark blue.

As the others came down the steps rubbing the sleep out of their eyes, they stopped and stared in surprise. Gone was the dirty, dusty traveler of yesterday. In his place was a tall handsome man, smiling at them.

“Sir, who are you? I feel I should know you, somehow,” Robin asked.

“My good Robin, yesterday, I told you that the King would not be returning to England today, or nest week, or next month. In fact, the King returned three days ago, and has been traveling about his kingdom, dressed as an ordinary person—no crown, no robe, no scepter.”

Light suddenly dawned in six pairs of eyes. “Sire!” “Your Highness!” “Sir!” All of the men dropped to one knee and bowed their heads.

Dickon laughed. “Rise, men. You need not kneel before your King. You have taken him into your home, fed him, looked after his aches and pains. At last I feel I have truly returned to the England I love. And, never, I swear to you all, never shall I leave these shores again. Let the kings on the continent fight their own battles. I shall defend this blessed realm.”

His audience was moved to tears by this speech, and they came forward one at a time, to kneel one more time, and kiss the King’s hand.

In his travels, Richard had learned to be practical. “Now, I wonder,” he mused aloud. “Did someone mention breakfast?”

Breakfast was a simple meal, but a very happy one. When it was over, the King said, “I would like you all to gather your belongings, and whatever jewels you may have dug out of the earth, and let us return to Nottingham. I think we have some business there before I go on to London. I have a plan.”

Quickly the men gathered up their meager belongings, their tools and the all-important bags of jewels. The King announced he would walk, and they could use his horse as a packhorse to carry their belongings and the jewels they had dug out of the ground.

“Sir, won’t you ride? It is not seemly that you should walk like the rest of us,” Will Scarlett asked.

Richard turned and gave him a regal ‘look’ of hauteur and dignity and spoke, “Silence, fellow. Are you questioning your king?”

Then he smiled and said, “My dear Scarlett, thank you for your concern, but I think it best if I walk, ‘just like the rest of you.’ I don’t want anyone to suspect my identity until I am ready to reveal it."

They started on their homeward journey, each lost in their own thoughts.

Little John was thinking how much he had missed his wife.

Will Scarlett and Alan were wondering where they would find a noble lord to take them in. “Don’t worry, my dear Will, no matter what happens, you know I’ll always be with you to pleasure you so that your cheeks are always red,” Alan said.

Big John was looking forward to seeing Maid Marian. He would convince her father that he could take care of a wife.

Robin and Martin walked hand-in-hand, thinking that somehow, the King would see that they got Cocksley Manor back. They had missed the men and women and the children of the village; they had missed the kindly face of Father Thomas, and yes, they even missed the poor soul who had to bring the crap-cart to the manor house each week.

Tuck was wondering what would happen now—just when he had found that someone with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his days?

The King was thinking about this wonderful man, Tuck. ‘How could he keep Tuck with him? How could he share his life with this man?’

As the men progressed through the woods, they came to the deep pit that had almost been the death of Robin some two weeks earlier. As they looked, a thoughtful expression came over the face of the King. ‘Hmmmm! I could think of a good use for this,’ he thought.

When they came to the edge of the forest, and they could see both Nottingham and the Manor of Cocksley, the King held up his hand. “Listen, my friends, I have a plan. This is what I think we should do.”

As he talked they nodded and smiled and at one point laughed out loud. The King had been wearing his fine Robe of State. He stripped down to a breechclout, and led his horse toward the manor. Robin, Martin, Tuck, and Will and Alan went with them.

Little John and Big John headed to the town, they met a neighbor and told him that Robin had returned and was going to pay his taxes. The neighbor met two of his neighbors and told them. The neighbors went home and told their wives, and then went down to the tavern, where they told everyone what was going to happen. Of course the wives told their friends over the garden fence, and the drinkers in the tavern went home and told their friends, and so, the news spread like wildfire. Soon it reached the ears of the Sheriff, and his royal guest, Prince John, who had come to Nottingham to see if there were any likely lads who would be an asset to his army, or be a likely ass in his royal bedchamber.

“Your highness, I think we should go to Cocksley Manor to collect these taxes. After we have the money we can always throw the boy in prison for treason, and maybe we can have some . . . fun . . . eh?”

“Sheriff, you have a way of arousing my . . . interest. Indeed, Let us make all haste and go to the Manor.”

The Prince and the Sheriff started out, but as they passed through the streets, they collected a crowd that grew in size as more and more of the townspeople wanted to see the confrontation.

As the Sheriff and the Prince approached the Manor they were accompanied by almost the entire adult population of the town. The people of Cocksley Village also came to see what would happen.

The front door to the Manor was locked, but Robin knew a secret way in, and he sent The King and Tuck up to his room in the solar, and he asked Will and Alan to get some water so the King could wash himself and dress in his robes.

Robin and Martin did not go in, but they stood on the porch outside the door of the Manor. Will, Alan and Tuck had come out the secret door and stood in the courtyard near the steps. Father Thomas, who had been summoned from the church, stood by Robin.

When the Prince and the Sheriff, and all the townspeople and the villagers were in the courtyard, Robin looked at Martin and said, “Now is the time for the games to begin.”

“Robin, formerly Robin of Cocksley, kneel to Prince John,” the Sheriff ordered.

Robin looked at the Prince, bowed, and said, “Welcome to what was once my home, sir.”

The Prince looked at Robin, smiled, and gave a slight bow in return, wondering to himself how delightful it would be to mount that young man, and ride him through the night. If the lad were willing that would be nice, but if he were unwilling to yield to his prince’s pleasure, and resisted, that would be even more delightful. A bucking stallion always gave more pleasure than a docile nag!

Robin now addressed the Sheriff, “Sheriff, tell us all what happens to the taxes when we pay them? What are they for?”

‘Might as well humor this young man. He’s not going to see much humor shortly,’ the Sheriff thought.

“Well, Master Robin, of all the taxes you or anyone else pays, one third goes to the upkeep of the town of Nottingham, a fund which I oversee,” said the Sheriff.

“Yes, what about the rest, and please. Sheriff, speak up, I’m having a little trouble hearing you.”

‘Smart young bastard,’ thought the Sheriff. “Well, a second third goes for the upkeep of the Royal Army, the royal residences, and the royal places of relaxation. His Highness, Prince John, administers those funds.”

“Yeah” called a voice from the back of the crowd, “I’ll bet half the male brothels in London enjoy the patronage of the royal ‘peter eater.”

“What about the last third, Sheriff,” Robin asked?

“Ah, my young squire, that goes for the ransom we are collecting to release the king from captivity, but I am afraid it will never be paid. People are just too slow to pay. <Sigh> I guess the people just don’t want to have their king back!”

“Did you say Transom, Sheriff?”

“NO, YOU YOUNG FOOL, I SAID ‘RANSOM.’ NOW, PAY UP, OR I’LL HAVE YOU ARRESTED!”

At that point, the front doors of Cocksley Manor flew open, and out stepped a figure dressed in white samite, with a blue cloak about his shoulders, and

Jeweled circlet around his brow.

The sheriff turned white, and Prince John turned green. One by one, the people in the courtyard recognized the figure. “The King.” “It’s the King!” ‘THE KING!” “IT’S THE KING!” “GOD SAVE THE KING!” “Huzzah!”

“HUZZAH!” “HUZZAH!”

Everyone in the courtyard went down on one knee. But they continued cheering, until finally the King stepped forward and raised his hands for silence, and, with tears in his eyes, said, “Thank you my people. Thank you from the bottom of my heart! Now if you will rise, I want all of you to witness this act.”

From inside the manor, he brought a twig of a tree and a clod of soil. He handed them to Robin, and said, “Robin of Cocksley, with this twig and this clod of earth, I hereby formally reinvest you with the Manor of Cocksley, and the only rent you are to pay is a single pinecone from the Forest of Sherwood, delivered to us at our Castle of Windsor each year on September 1, and to attend us at court for 30 days each year, to render such service as we may ask of you.”

The crowd, and especially the villagers, cheered until they were hoarse.

Then Robin knelt before the king and put his hands between the King’s hand, and said the ancient words of the Oath of Fealty and Homage: “I, Robin, do become your liege man of life and limb, and of earthly worship, and faith and truth I will bear unto you, to live and die, against all manner of folk. So help me God.”

Martin had such tears of joy for his lover that he could hardly see, and he almost didn’t hear the King say, “Martin, come forward and kneel by Robin.”

Martin did so, and the King drew out a large sword, and touched each of the two on the shoulders, and said, “Robin of Cocksley, I dub thee Sir Robin of Cocksley.” Then . . . “Martin, I dub thee Sir Martin the Faithful. Arise my two brave knights and hear the cheers of the people.”

Robin and Martin stood, and turned ands faced the crowd. This time the cheering was so loud and thunderous was the applause that the ground shook.

“Little John and Big John, come forward.”

The two Johns did so, and the King said, “Little John, I hereby appoint you the new Sheriff of Nottingham, and I appoint Big John, captain of the Nottingham garrison.”

“Thank you, Sire. Thank you, very much. We will do our best to make you proud of us!”

The King turned to the crowd and asked, “Are Maid Marian and her father Wat Jenkins here? Let them come forward.”

From out of the crowd came a beautiful maid and a sturdy fellow of some for fifty years. Marian curtsied to the King, and her father bowed.

“Now, Goodman Jenkins, I understand that you wanted Big John to pay a bride-price of fifteen marks.”

“Oh, aye, Your Highness. I wanted to be sure that the lad would be able to support a wife.”

“Would these precious stones, an opal and two rubies, be a sufficient substitute for the fifteen marks?”

“Oh, aye, Sire, and may I say that I never intended to keep the marks. I was going to give ten of them back to Big John, and the other five to Father Thomas, to use. Now I can give the rubies back to Big John, and with your highness’ permission, give the opal to Father Thomas.”

The King smiled, and said, “Permission granted. Is Father Thomas here?”

Father Thomas came forward, gave a slight nod, and said, “Sire.”

“What would you do with this opal, Father Thomas?” asked the King.

“I would use some of it to buy some copies of the Scriptures so I could better teach the young people . . . and there are some elderly and infirm parishioners I could buy food and firewood for. . .” His voice trailed off.

“Good Father Thomas, you shall have your scrolls and your food and firewood, paid for out of the tax money that the former Sheriff no doubt has squirreled away somewhere. I would like you to use the money from this opal for something for yourself.”

“Well, Sire, my one blanket is getting a little threadbare, and . . . . I wouldn’t mind having some of this new invention called ‘glass,’ I think it is called. for my windows.”

“Tuck, would you mind making a note of Father Thomas’ needs?”

“Gladly, Dick--- I mean Sire.”

“Will Scarlett and Alan a Gay, come forward. When I go to London, I would like you both to accompany me and become members of the Royal Household. Will, I will put you in charge of the stables, and Alan, I appoint you Minstrel in Chief, to train the other minstrels and to provide songs and stories for great feasts.”

Both Will and Alan bowed and thanked the King.

Richard added, “You two will be given living quarters together in some part of the castle, and you may live your lives as you see fit, but . . . please . . .. , whatever you do, ‘don’t scare the horses!’”

<good-natured laughter from the crowd>

“I think that is just about it. I will consider what to do with the Sheriff and Prince John, but then I think it will be time to call this meeting over.

Tuck turned away shoulders drooping. ‘Well, so that’s it! He doesn’t need me. Oh, hell, I guess I was just a one-Knight stand! Fuck it all, anyhow.’

Robin approached the King, and said, “Sire, what about . . “ and he whispered in the King’s ear.

The King looked at Robin and winked and said, “No, my friend, I hadn’t really forgotten. . . . Will my faithful friend, Tuck, please come here?”

Tuck came and stood before the King, and said, “You called, Sire?”

“Yes, Tuck, I called you. You are one of my most faithful subjects. Would you do me the honor of accepting the post of ‘First Advisor to the King?’ It will mean leaving Sherwood Forest and living in the Royal Household all the time. Of course, if you would rather not leave the freedom of the Forest I shall quite understand, only, I was hoping . . ..”

Sire, King Richard, . . . , Dickon, I accept your offer with all the joy in my heart. I accept. I accept. I ACCEPT!”

The two men gazed into each other’s eyes and clasped hands tightly.

The king gathered his robes around him and sat in the chair that had been brought forward.

“My people, listen while I pass judgment on these two . . . these two . . . villains!”

“Brother John, while I was in the East, I saw a curious device made of metal and leather. It locks with a key and when a man has it on around his lower mid section, he cannot relieve his tensions, nor attain a state of excitement without causing himself a great deal of pain. It is our decision that such a device be made for you, and you be made to wear it for as long as I am King, and after me my nephew Arthur of Brittany is King.”

“It is our will that some of our handsomest pages wait on you in a state of semi-nakedness, so that you can practice self-control.”

“And it is our wish to bestow the keeping of the key on our faithful Robin of Cocksley, who may, in the fullness of time, become known as ‘Robin of Locksley.’”

“And now for the Sheriff,” said the King. “Deep in Sherwood Forest there is a pit. It is our wish and our command that a detachment of soldiers from Nottingham Garrison be sent out and have you lowered into the pit with a bucket and a shovel. Whenever you fill a bucket of dirt and pull on the rope, it shall be raised to the top and emptied, and a bucket of food shall be lowered to you. In other words, you miserable creature, just as you tried to get the people in this town deeper in debt, so you shall dig yourself deeper and deeper into the pit. If you stop digging, you will stop receiving food.”

“Tuck, are you getting all this down?” asked the King.

“You bet, sire.”

“Good,” and the king clapped his hands, and said, “So let it be written, so let it be done!”

Dear readers, my story is done. The Sheriff was put in the pit. The Prince was put into what came to be called the Princely Prick Prison.

Will and Alan lived happy lives in the royal household, and didn’t scare the horses once!

Little John and his wife moved into the Sheriff’s fortress, and he oversaw the affairs of the town with wisdom and justice for all.

Big John married his maid Marion, and oversaw the training of the Garrison.

Sir Robin and Sir Martin lived together in love, peace and harmony, and saw to the affairs of the Manor, and saw to it that Father Thomas had what he needed for his school.

I, Alan the Gay Minstrel, thank you for your patience. I have sent this story to willb@tickiestories.us, who will be glad to hear from you.

= = =Finis, Finito, Das ist Alles, The End = = =

Feedback always welcome:

Author’s Notes on Items of Useless Information: At the time of Richard the Lion-Cocked, Kings did not use the title of Majesty. Only the Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire used the title.

Kings’ crowns were simple jeweled circlets. They did not bear the arches we see in modern crowns. Again, only the Emperor had an arch on his crown.

I believe it was Francis the First of France who started the custom of being addressed as ‘Majesty,” and who decided that the French royal crown would have arches. Of course if the King of France could adopt these newfangled notions, Henry VIII of England, was going to adopt them also.

The words of the Oath of Fealty and Homage said by Robin to his King were still used in the British Coronation Service as late as 1953.

Posted: 09/19/08