Chapter One: The Calling Of The Road
I would not consider myself a greedy or selfish person, rather the opposite. I'm the type who looks out for others around me at the cost of myself. I have never wanted castles or other frivolous flights of fancy that Lords and Kings consider important. I have always been a good God-fearing man and have tried to live my life as he would want me to. In truth all I ever wanted was to be happy and live a good life. I didn't want to be rich or powerful, that just wasn't me. I never shied away from my duty or hard work and I still don't. I still am at heart what I always was, the son of a simple peasant farmer. I just had a run of luck I suppose; some good, some bad, but I assure you it was mostly good times even in troubled times.
I never wanted power because I didn't like what power seemed to do to people. When I was a young man still living at home I saw routinely the way that the local Lord behaved and wanted none of such things. It was not until much later that I realized that it was more the character of the man that dictated how he reacted to power. A good man might handle power better than one that craves it, however rarely does one who does not seek power get it thrust upon him.
I craved no riches either because that seemed to rot the soul and pervert the heart of the purest of men. I didn't love being dirt poor; I simply didn't want the lust for money that surely accompanied great wealth. Money can do wondrous things such as see that God's work on earth continues and surly no man can say that is evil. We all need money to a certain degree to feed our families and you cannot say that is an evil thing either. Surely it is not fair to hate a man whom God has blessed with more riches than you and I know this. However there are those men who are never satisfied with the wealth they have and constantly scheme and deal for ever more wealth. That lust for money is what soured me on the quest for money that many men spend their lives pursuing.
However, I also saw that my father worked hard from sunup to sundown to carve out a meager existence for all of us. Somehow he seemed happy with his lot in life, though I doubt he ever truly was. As for me, I wanted more than to die a poor peasant farmer like countless men before me. I didn't care to be rich mind you, but I wanted a better life to be sure. My name is Brian Westlock and the story I am about to tell you as strange as it may seem, is true.
My father tended the small patch of land that his father had tended before him and his before him and so on back farther than I can imagine. A long line of men in our family had tended this little plot of land trying to feed his family, pay his taxes and serve God. There was no end of work to be done and little to show for it, though I rarely ever heard my father complain.
My father was a man who did the best he could to provide for his family and his faith in God never wavered even in the hardest of times. He did the only thing he knew how and did the best that he could. At the time I thought he was a man who had given up on life, that he wanted nothing more than what he had. I doubt it was true, I doubt that he was truly happy being a peasant farmer, always one meal away from starvation. However, he seemed content with his life and I can see now how liberating that can be. I guess he believed that his life was as good as it was going to get so you might as well make the best of it. While it may seem like a limiting way to view life, for him he was making the best of a bad situation with a positive attitude. There is something to be said with being content with what God has given you.
At the time I saw my father as a petty tyrant, taking his daily frustrations out on me, while that may be the slightest bit true. I see now that he was trying to shape me into the man that he wanted me to be. I understood only years later that he was doing what he thought was best for me. I see now that he was trying to give me the skills and type of character I would need to make it in this hard life. Only now years after I last saw him do I fully appreciate the man that my father was. It was not until some time later that I fully appreciated the effect that he had on me, how he shaped me into the man I am. I never got the chance to thank him for that, I hope that he knew how I felt, that I respected him for that.
I grew up in a small town near what I thought was a grand church, though modest it may be. The Local Lord built it more for his own glory more than his desire to be closer to God. However it did mean that there was a good church to attend on Sunday and good deal of learned men around. I spent many hours in the evening talking to the fathers about the distant places they had seen, I tried to learn as much as I could. One in particular took pity on me and taught me to read and write, something I was very proud of at the time.
All in all I do remember mostly happy times from those days of my youth. There were hardships and hard work to be sure but looking back now I see things differently than I did when I was young. Now I mostly remember the happy times spent with my brothers and sisters working that accursed piece of ground. Looking back I remember the pleasant things about that little town and the humble farm that I'm sure looks much the same today as it did when I left.
The local Lord was not as nice or generous as people would have liked him to be but I doubt he was as cruel and heartless as they gave him credit for. The taxes he levied were crippling and it would take generations to get even the slightest bit ahead. I never once saw him show the slightest bit of compassion or remorse when he tossed a family off his lands, taking everything they had for "unpaid taxes". However, I can only guess the number of "sob stories" he must have heard on a daily basis, you must get numb to it after a while.
Happily though, the local lord was not a power-hungry one. All he wanted was for you to pay your taxes and he would leave you alone for the most part. It was a small blessing but at least you were not marching off to your death so he can gain power and influence in some far off place. Many Lords of the time were like that and thankfully our Lord was not.
As I got older, things didn't settle quite right with me, I was happy on one level but yet I was not satisfied. I couldn't explain it, I loved my family and my home but yet something was pulling at me to leave. I felt more and more out of place the older I got. That is an odd feeling to have about the only home you have ever known. I started to get the feeling that God had other plans for me; I started to get the feeling that I was not meant to stay at my home. I guess it was inevitable, sooner or later I would have left regardless I see that now. By the time I was a young man of twenty, my heart yearned to see lands outside the humble hamlet that had been my home.
At the time I was not that bad to look at, after all I was a relatively young man. At the time that my story begins, I was somewhat of a handsome man for my years, or so I have been told. However, the ladies that have told me that were all those that loved me, so their opinion may be a bit biased. While I may have not liked farming, the hard work that farming demands had kept my body in fit and trim shape. My light brown hair was short and trim, most definitely off the shoulders. My eyes are still a grand and glorious blue, much to the delight of the ladies who have looked into them, (or so they say). As I have been told my face is perhaps slightly on the plain side but not homely or hard on the eyes. Although it has been said that my face was even nicer to look at on back then and that is understandable. As for the more personal regions of my body I may want to shy away from such discussions but I know that you're curious. Well let's say that my cock while being of average length (about six inches), it is slightly thicker than most men's cocks. The ladies I have pleasured over the years have not complained about my equipment.
I remember the day I left like it was yesterday and while I had hoped to leave that day, it was not intended to be the way it turned out. It was a cool spring morning, the sun was shining and a warm breeze blew lightly out of the east as it always had. The sweet sent of the wildflowers from on the hill and just beyond is something I will always remember. The tall grass and grain blowing to and fro on the wind was a peaceful thing to see. I paused for a moment at Mr. Osterant's door looking at the view afforded by the hilltop house.
Mr. Osterant was the local Merchant of many things, and the most successful man in our little corner of England. He was not a rich man by many standards, but in comparison to my father he seemed as rich as a King. I was intrigued with him from a very young age. I got to know him as I hung around his house and shop. I was greatly interested in what he did, considering it was not farming. As far as merchants go he was a kind and good man, though he knew the value of a coin to be sure. At a young age he was a hero of mine you might say, and I was trying to have him take me on as an apprentice.
