Hotspur Ch 01

\They all saw it happen.

The raising of flags and standards of red upon green.

The ascent of the Righteous.

The decline of free speech, freedoms and the donning of the armour of God.

2030 General Election

For years, the amused bit despairing public watched politicians bicker, argue , scheme and fall to scandal.

Then Roger Hotspur rose to prominence. On the last Covid outbreak in 2023, where millions fell worldwide, Armies diminished and retreated from bloody drawn out invasions and despots were toppled in bloody dispute.

Hotspur called to the people.

The Union was torn asunder. Scotland, Northern Ireland and Wales were torn from the Union. They stood alone now.

Hotspur called what remained the New Jerusalem. The world England fell from use.

In the 2026, Hotspur, a former teacher campaigned as an independent, on a midland seat.

With rhetoric that played to the the failings of others: Parents that lacked the discipline to teach their off spring how to behave, NHS trust managers siphoning off funds from nurses and doctors, policemen too busy to catch criminals and even politicians caught in scandals were all raged against. Riding public acclamation, Hotspur even rallied disparate churchmen to champion him. Of course, he chose his targets carefully and with his sudden rise, ambitious men funded his campaign. Routinely, Hotspur wore a kind of armour plate, a gorget and pauldrons, on a green smock, emblazoned with the Red Cross of England and St George but racist he was not. He championed all causes that would fill his ranks to include all races- because green was the Earth and red was the blood.

Oh, how the people were taken in and hailed him as a the force for good!

The Great outbreak in 2027, he and his standards were raised and voted in by the decimated parliament MP's desperate to install a strong leader, whom they thought they could control, but they didn't fully understand him or his ambition. Tragically, the wise old king died and the new king was weakened with family tragedy and illness. With the fabric of society being torn apart- Hotspur seemed to rise above it.

In a speech that cemented him as the leader of the parliament, he called for drastic action. To save the righteous, they would cut away the chaff, split the Union and save the body from a great disease. Great armies of Hotspur supporters cleared towns and villages of the dissolute, the streets were cleared and cleaned. The same was done to the infra structure. Nurses, Doctors, teachers, Police and the army all worked together to implement Hotspur's 'Call to Purity'. The country rallied behind his call, in less than a year- A New Jerusalem rose, with Hotspur seen on every billboard, every bus shelter, every commercial. He was the saviour of the New Jerusalem.

The relied on the steady, divine hand of Hotspur- The new Lord Protector.

IN months, the cities and towns and villages embraced their new Lord Protector.

In the austere green and red crossed buildings of Old London, the Tower stood. No longer white but green and red. In it, the council of Jerusalem sat, Hotspur at its head.

In his private chambers, Hotspur now 54 years young slapped the curvy arse cheek of woman bent over the leather studded armchair. Hotspur spanked the poor woman's buttocks red but she endured it without a squeal, she knew how to please the Lord Protector. Hotspur was in a disciplinary mood, having fucked the woman's cunny and arse vigorously after the morning sessions with the council.

His semen still dribbled down the woman's legs, from her reddened holes.

"Lady of the Northern Matches, you have endured your chastisement well, as a Lady should. Do you wish release?" Hotspur gave her the chance, but he knew what her reply would be.

"Chastise me further, Milord Hotspur. I serve you and the New Jerusalem".

Her answer pleased Hotspur. With his erection growing harder, he decided that she should suffer greatly for her temptations.

Using both hand and whip, he rained down stroke upon stroke. Red welts appeared and then purple bruises. His ardour grew so much, that he flung his instruments aside and took her roughly in her sex. Still semi-conscious, the lady felt his stiff member thrust forcefully into her, her bruised body had betrayed her again, getting her wet enough to endure the savage thrusting now suffering.

But she was a Lady of the Court of New Jerusalem. She was one of the Eight that served the New Lord Protector, she had tempted his flesh and now would suffer his holy sanction. She took it with joy and silence. The Lord Protector had to be cleansed of unholy thought and the Ladies of the Court, suffered him, to allow the holy spirit and strength to govern New Jerusalem.

Hotspur finding his needs grew more demanding, pulled out of the restrained woman's sex, and plunged into her anus. Still, the Lady made no sound, she would absorb the Lord Protector's lust and purify him. Hotspur once again rained down blows on her shaking buttocks, until he could stand no more. He released his seed inside the woman, who, now was barely unconscious, from her chastisement.

As a Lady of the Court, she would be nursed back to health and returned to court soon. For she had taken the divine spirit within her. Shaking, Hotspur pulled himself from her anus and went to purify himself. Finally, cleansed with holy water, he untied the subconscious woman, and rang the chamber serving bell. Underlings would remove the woman and they came immediately. As they lifted her away, Hotspur regarded the woman; she was a beautiful 42-year-old and being the second Lady the Court of Jerusalem was favoured above most. Her breasts were full, round and her nipples always erect. Her sex, trimmed into the shape of a cross, her curvy arse quivered when spanked. She was perfect for the Lord Protector Hotspur and so paid his price, whenever he had need of her.

The Lord Protector, who styled himself on the other great Lord Protector, Oliver Cromwell, had many needs but all were keep secret. The Ladies kept all his secrets.

Once satisfied that the Lady had been taken away to recover. He dressed in tall black boots, black jodhpurs, green smock, emblazoned with a red cross. Then, donned his armour of shiny plate gorget, pauldrons, and large leather gauntlets of deepest red.

Like his heroes of the past, he cared little for personal vanity but wore the armour of God. He was God's agent. He was God's right hand and he had God's righteous purpose and strength.

He would now, set his mission to reassemble the flag of the old Union and restore the kingdoms to their scared whole.

First, the minor fiefdoms of what was once Wales would be gathered to him.

In the outer chambers, six guards all dressed in green and red struggled to catch up with Hotspur as he marched along the halls to the audience chambers on the second floor of the tower. Alongside the guards, hurried three secretaries, dressed in the robes of ecclesiastics. They called out matters, that Hotspur would need to be informed of. Frequently, the entourage stopped as Hotspur issued orders, instructions, replied to letters or petitions. His energy was fearsome to behold.

Upon reaching the audience chamber, referred to as the House of Baubles after the Crown Jewels were discarded and placed out of sight- the sight of the treasures offended the Lord Protector and so stark and plain the room was now. No décor, just the standard of God, three large wooden chairs and a raised dais at one end.

The Lord Protector disdained to sit, as two men and a lovely young woman approached. All wore respectful, heavy clothes. The woman veiled, solemn and her eyes cast down. A tribute for the Lord Protector, for hearing this personal petition.

"Speak!" The Lord Protector called out.

"I am Rhodri, Master of the Marches of the Welsh and Borderlands, come with the order, blessing and wishes of my people to petition the Lord Protector to stand with him in alliance and eternal friendship. I bring the tribute of my daughter, to cement this joining. If it, please your Lordship." Rhodri was an old, wise but tired man. His people starved of food and weary of lawlessness, that beset Wales since the 'tearing of the flag'- the dissolution of the United Kingdom. Too many years of pain, famine, strife, and despair had forced him to petition to re-join the Union.

Of course, Hotspur had fermented the restlessness, the raids on farms and towns by his secret, black-garbed men that harried the border lands. He wanted, needed Wales back into the Union.

"I accept your petition." Hotspur announced, "Let it be recorded!"

All smiles now, he strode to Rhodri and took his hands warmly. "Make your farewells, your daughter will be escorted to the palace of the Court."

Filled with exhaustion and sadness, but with no other choice. Rhodri hugged his daughter. His eyes full of sorrow and his voice of a dying man. Hotspur had already stridden off, the formalities done. His entourage struggling to catch up.

"Goodbye, Myfanwy. Your people will thrive now, through her alliance with the House of Hotspur. Make your people proud."

End of Chapter One