Saving Brian

England 1828;

As I was running through the woods, I tripped and fell. I could hear the dogs in the distance but they were closing in. Keep going…. I’ve got to keep going. I can’t go back to that place. No more whippings or scavenging among each other for a bit more moldy bread. No more stealing shoes and clothes off the bodies of those who didn’t survive. 

The freezing rain was coming down much harder now. At least it was helping to keep my weak and tired body awake. My heart was racing when I came upon a large estate in the clearing of the woods. I pounded on the door. When it opened, I took three steps and collapsed inside the great hall.

A knocking on the library door disturbed Ian Kensington’s studying of the day’s ledgers.
“Yes, come in.”
“Good evening Sir. Sorry to interrupt but you must come quickly to the front hall. There is a young lad who is unconscious and needs help!” exclaimed the butler.
“Harry, what on earth are you talking about?”
“He knocked on the front door and when I answered it he just stumbled in and fell to the floor. He must have come from that damn juvenile workhouse in Lindberg, Sir.”

Ian rose from his desk and hurried out with Harry fast on his heels. When he came upon the boy he was surprised at the sight before him. The ‘young lad’ looked to be about 14 or 15 with blonde hair. His clothes were dirty, wet and looked to be two sizes too small with patches and holes in them. Ian was disgusted and dismayed at the sight of the poor boy. He had been a generous contributor to the Lindberg workhouse hoping to raise the living conditions of those orphaned children who lived there. They were supposed to be cared for, schooled and trained in an honest profession that would benefit them once they left and were on their own. Apprenticeships started at around the age of 14 or 15.

“I’ll carry him up to one of the bedrooms and get him cleaned up. Harry, get Emma to get the bath readied and to bring up some broth. Then I need you to clean the water and mud from the floor and remove any traces that he’s been here.”

As Ian put his arms under the boy’s shoulders and knees he heard some mumblings. He looked down into a pair of deep blue eyes. The boy put his arms around Ian’s neck and pleaded
“Please don’t let them take me away. I’ll do anything… please…help me.”
“Don’t worry, you’re safe now. No one is going to hurt you.” Ian spoke gently to the boy but realized that he was unconscious again.

He carried him up the stairs, into one of the rooms and laid him on the bed. As Ian was getting the fire going in the fireplace to get the room warmed up he heard a commotion from the hall below. Rushing down the stairs he came upon two big burly men and four hounds trying to get into his house but without luck thanks to Harry.

“What is the meaning of this!” yelled Ian.

“We’re sorry for disturbin’ ye sir but we’ve been after one o’ the boys from the old workhouse and we’ve tracked him to yer home. He’s a troublemaker an’ could be dangerous too. Just look what he did to me partner here.” Said the shorter rounded man. Ian remembered that his name was Smith from the few meetings he had with him concerning his donations. Then Ian looked over at his partner. He was tall and lanky with scars on his face and a mean look in his eyes. He also had a gash in his right leg that was still bleeding.

“I think you’re mistaken. Now get these beasts and yourselves off of my property before I call the authorities.”

“We know he’s here. We’ve been followin’ him for the past 6 hours. I warn ye. That Brian O’Rourke is nothin’ but trouble. He’ll rob ye blind, take all yer silver without a second thought and attack anyone that gets in his way.”
Ian could barely speak the words through his clenched teeth. 
“Thanks for the warning but I can take care of myself. And those ‘qualities’ you’ve just mentioned seem to be more a description of you two than a boy who should have been well cared for in your establishment!” Harry pushed them out and shut the door in their faces.

Emma, who was the cook and maid, came towards Ian and Harry and informed them that the bath was ready and a tray of food was waiting for the boy when he awoke.

Ian came into the bedroom and saw that ‘Brian’ was still out. I’m sure a warm bath will help him come to, he thought. As he was turning him over to remove his shirt, Ian saw the red welt marks that criss-crossed Brian’s back. What in God’s name would give them cause to do this to another human being? Brian was very lean, probably from a lack of food. However, Ian could see that he once must have had well formed muscles. He noticed Brian’s strong abdomen and thighs as he slid the boy’s pants off as well as the blond curls that surrounded his nice cock. How old was Brian? He must be older than 14. 

After rolling up the sleeves on his shirt it was time to begin. Ian carried Brian and placed him into the tub, being careful of the welts on the back. He gently cleaned the mud from Brian’s face and neck touching his full lips. He washed his hair, rubbing and massaging the soap slowly into the scalp. The warm steam rose as water and suds ran down Brian’s head, neck and over his chest and nipples from the pitcher of water. Ian lathered his hands and washed Brian’s strong arms and hands. He noticed bruises, cuts and scrapes along the way. He took hold of the bar of soap once again and went below the water rubbing it along Brian’s stomach, thighs, legs and feet. He started to soap up Brian’s groin when he heard him coming to.

“Mmmm…. Where am I?”
“It’s alright Brian. You’re in my home and I’m going to take care of you. My name is Ian.”
“How did I get here… I mean in the bath?”
“I carried you to this room, undressed you, and thought a warm bath would help. How old are you by the way?”
“I’m 17.”
“17?! What are you still doing at the Lindberg workhouse? You should have been sent out into the world and given a job by now. I was to understand that the workhouse provides training and an apprenticeship with some of the local businesses.” Ian said with surprise.

Brian closed his eyes and sighed, “They keep us locked up there until we’re too weak to work for them no matter what age. Some of us are sent away but most of us are just prisoners.”

“How did you get those marks on your back?” 

“I…was caught …with …a friend of mine. One of our friends was very sick and had just died yesterday. We were just consoling each other. I was holding him while he broke down and cried. Then that bastard Finch grabbed us and said we should be taught a lesson. I knew my friend wasn’t going to be able to take any more beatings. I’m stronger than him so I told Finch to spare him and give his beatings to me. Then he took us out into the yard, stripped me down and tied my hands in front of me. He told my friend to sit on the sidelines and watch as I was forced to bend over the wooden fence that goes around the pens. Then Finch kicked my legs apart and said ‘First we’ll give you yer whoopin’ little girl.’ He then grabbed the long paddle and spanked my ass. I lost count but I remember the last one… he hit me right between my legs and hammered me in my balls. I doubled up and fell to the ground in pain. Then he laughed and dragged me by the rope around my wrists toward the flagpole. ‘Now you get to take yer girlfriends whoopin’. He made me stand, facing the flagpole, and pulled my hands up over my head and tied them to the hook. Then he put his filthy hands on my red, burning butt and told me ‘We’ll just give your cute tight ass some rest for now.’ That’s when he pulled off his belt and started to whip me. The ropes cutting into my wrists were loosening and I was able to free my hands. I turned around and pushed Finch down to the ground and started to run. But he grabbed my ankle and tripped me. He then tackled me and was wrestling with me, trying to tie me up again. That’s when my friend grabbed one of the loose boards from the fence that still had a few nails sticking out of it and hit Finch in the legs. I grabbed my clothes and we both ran for the big gate at the entrance as we heard Finch yelping in pain. We heard the dogs and decided that we would have a better chance if we split up. I ran into the woods, put my clothes on and just kept running without ever looking back or knowing where I would end up.”

Ian closed his eyes and shook his head, unable to grasp the extent of the cruelty that this young man endured. He knew some of the harsh conditions that were rumored about the workhouse but he had hoped that his money would have made a difference. He should have been more insistent on learning the results, or kept better tabs on the place. The guilt that he now faced, as he looked into Brian’s teary eyes was tremendous.