Summary: This story is set in the Horatio Hornblower universe, and is a sequel to my previous stories, "Down Among the Dead Men" and "Ghosts. This tale is AU in that in this world, Clayton survived the duel with Simpson and went on to become a lieutenant in Indefatigable. It is also slash. Be warned, and if you find sexual relationships between male characters offensive, please stop reading now.

Disclaimer: I didn't write this with the intention of infringing copyrights, or to make money. I wrote it for the love of the characters, and the desire to find out what could happen next. Permission is given to print for personal use, provided this disclaimer and my name remain attached. Please ask if you want to archive it. The characters are purloined, the story is mine, and hopefully, the enjoyment is yours.

Rating: NC-17 Pairings: HH/EP HH/HC AK/HC

Feedback to roisindu@ix.netcom.com

Laying the Dead to Rest

Hornblower woke to bright sunlight that flooded through the windows and pooled on the polished wood of the floor. He stretched, luxuriating in the softness of the bed beneath him. After so long in a bunk aboard ship, this was pure heaven. He turned on his side and studied the face of the man in bed beside him, relaxed in sleep. His dark hair was loose against the pillow and Hornblower softly took it between his fingers, and let his thoughts drift back to the night before.

They had taken dinner at an inn Edward had chosen, one far from the raucous Plymouth waterfront and far more expensive than Hornblower could afford. The interior was warm and quiet. A fire crackled in a fireplace set deep into one wall. The few guests were well dressed and genteel, and took little notice of the two naval officers dining at a table in a window niche. The view from it was a perfect marriage of land and sea. A meadow fell away to reveal the ocean beyond, touched by moonlight. Dinner was no less impressive, but Hornblower scarcely tasted it, or the wines that Edward had ordered to accompany it. His attention was held by deep brown eyes, and a face his captain had never shown him aboard ship. Away from his command, Edward was witty, charming, and utterly at home with his surroundings, and his companion.

The door of the room had scarcely closed behind them before Edward had taken him in his arms. The older man was no less attentive in the bedroom. Hornblower remembered how Pellew had simply held him for a long moment, revelling in the fact that they were alone at last. All the months spent behaving correctly in Indefatigable had only sharpened his anticipation, and he was the one who had pulled Edward's lips to meet his own. The smell of his lover inflamed him, tobacco and brandy from their meal together mixed with the slight smoky reek of Stockholm tar, the one smell that never seemed to leave a sailor. He slipped his hands under the thick wool of Edward's uniform and ran them over the strong back and chest beneath. Edward's hands were roving over his body just as greedily, and their breathing grew rougher as they tugged at clothing and drank in the feel of exposed flesh. Soon both of them were nude, their uniforms littering the floor.

Edward was the first to pull back, a wicked grin on his face. He surveyed the mess on the floor with amusement. "Why Mr. Hornblower, have you no self-restraint? That is hardly the proper way to treat your uniform!"

Hornblower chuckled, looking pointedly at the gold-laced coat that lay draped over his seabag, and then back at its owner. "I fear I have taken my model from you, sir," he returned. "In all things, it seems," he said in a softer tone, as his eyes wandered down to Pellew's rampant cock. He took a moment to simply stand there and look at Edward, gloriously naked in front of the fire that had been laid and lit before they were shown to this very comfortable room. He had never had such complete privacy since he had gone to sea, and certainly never with Edward. What strong, well-shaped legs his lover had, and what a beautiful, well-muscled body!

Edward was no less thorough in his appreciation of Horatio. Slim and hard, the slender young man was as perfect as a god. He remembered how the touch of the firm young flesh sent passion racing through him, but he had never seen it revealed so completely before him. The dreamy smile on Horatio's face warmed him, for he had not known if the younger man would find him wanting when he finally saw the true appearance of the man he had been touching furtively all these months. The sight of the stiffened weapon rising from his groin was all the confirmation--or encouragement--he needed. He sank to his knees in front of him and took it into his mouth.

Hornblower cried out as the hot, wet mouth surrounded him. The sound hung in the quiet room, and it, and the knowledge that there was no need to be quiet sent a bolt of desire through Pellew. He wrapped his arms around the strong thighs and guided Horatio to the floor as his knees grew weak. The lad was wild and abandoned in his passion, moaning throatily and thrusting uncontrollably as his climax approached. For me! Edward was roused by the knowledge that he was responsible for Horatio's state. All too quickly, it was over, and the lad's issue filled his mouth, creamy and tasting of the ocean that had brought them together. Their breathing was hoarse in the silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire. Pellew slid up to lie beside Horatio, both their heads pillowed on his coat and the seabag beneath.

Hornblower rolled over so he could take Edward in his arms. Slowly he began to kiss his throat, his shoulders, and then his mouth, tasting himself as he did so. Edward groaned, thrusting against him as he returned the kiss and buried his hands in the fine brown hair. The ribbon that confined it impeded him, so he pulled it loose and dropped it on the floor behind the seabag. Electric pleasure ran through him wherever their bodies touched, and Pellew felt himself being carried away on it. Horatio's mouth seemed to be everywhere, wet and generous. When at last it closed over his shaft, he saw stars.

****

Clayton spent that same night on deck, the stars clear and bright above him. He stood by the larboard rail with a tankard in his hand. He had saved the evening spirit ration until his watch was over. There was no more than an anchor watch, here in port, but with so many officers ashore, that meant that he had been on duty until the beginning of the midwatch. It was not really a hardship. After all, he reflected, he had no real reason to go ashore. There was a certain quiet contentment to be had here, standing by the rail looking out to the welcoming lights on shore. He took a sip of the neat rum and felt it spread warmth all the way to his belly. No, he would not trade what he had now for any other life. He smiled in the darkness, remembering Hornblower's eagerness to be ashore. The lad thought he had hidden it so well, and perhaps he had to those who did not know the secret he shared with Pellew. He hoped heartily that their time together was as sweet as his memories of Archie. Time had blunted the pain, and he could now take comfort in his recollections.

He turned, setting his back against the bulwark, looking aloft at the tracery of lines above him. They stood out slightly, blacker than the dark sky they were silhouetted against. Everything in its place, all according to Navy custom and tradition. Just as his life had now become, he thought with quiet satisfaction. The anchor light shone cheerily over the quarterdeck, mirroring the gibbous moon low in the western sky.

Bracegirdle clumped across the deck and nodded companionably to Clayton. "A fine night, eh?"

"Very fine indeed," Clayton agreed.

"We could have made Portsmouth if it had been this way a week back," Bracegirdle said gloomily.

Portsmouth was the very last place Clayton wished to be, but he nodded dutifully. "Better dockyard, but not so pleasant an anchorage."

"The dockyard's the least of it," Bracegirdle answered. "I was hoping to see my Nell again." He looked out over the water. "By the time she could travel here, we'll be ready to sail again."

"Why, I didn't know you'd married, Mr. Bracegirdle," Clayton said lightly.

"I haven't," came the answer, and Bracegirdle looked even more disconsolate. "But I do have hopes."

'You must indeed', thought Clayton. 'A woman willing to brave bad roads and worse inns for the chance to see her man must be either mad or in love.' He leaned against the rail again. "You've not mentioned her all these months, Andrew."

"I was unwilling to make her a figure of lower-deck fun."

"Ah," said Clayton. He could well understand that. Even if there had been no Simpson, and no twenty-eighth Article, he would have followed the same prudent path with Archie, not only to spare them both the rough humor of their shipmates, but also for the sake of the boy's career. For a moment, he felt the old melancholy again, overwhelming the golden contentment of a few minutes before. He sighed, unwilling to be cross at Bracegirdle for being the cause of his feelings. "The price of being at sea, I fear," he said at last. And so it was. If the loss of Archie was the price of his new life, then so be it. Perhaps it was for the best, for both of them. If the boy lived, he would be better for not having such an attachment. He was young, and if he had been captured, he would soon be exchanged and he had his career ahead of him. An aging lieutenant was nothing but an entanglement. But the depression remained.

Apparently Bracegirdle shared it too. "Aye, Henry." He sighed. "I'm for bed, then. Good night to you."

"Good night," Clayton answered. Suddenly, the lights on shore seemed less welcoming. He finished the tankard and followed Bracegirdle below.

****

Soon, the ship fully provisioned, they sailed for the coast of Spain, under orders to harass the enemy. These were orders that any frigate captain dreamed of, and Pellew was no exception. They were blessed by good weather, and spent wolfish days sailing, marking the positions of French shipping and praying for them to leave their safe harbors for the open sea.

In the course of the summer, they took few prizes, mainly French coastal shipping that was foolish enough to try and make a run for it. When Hornblower and Hunter took a French topsail schooner, Henry at last had his chance at command.

"Mr Clayton, I am here to relieve you. The captain sends his compliments and wishes to see you in his quarters at once."

Clayton, standing by the weather rail, turned to face Mr. Bowles. "Thank you, Mr. Bowles, the deck is yours." He swiftly informed the sailing master of the events of his watch, and went below.

Pellew looked up as the sentry opened the cabin door. "Mr Clayton! Come in, sir!"

He was seated at the large polished table in the center of his day cabin. Hornblower and Bracegirdle were standing off to the side. "You wished to see me, sir?" Clayton began.

"Yes, I did." Pellew was smiling, and a folded and sealed piece of paper lay on the table before him. "I fear that this has been delayed far too long, Mr. Clayton." Pellew handed the paper to his startled officer, and watched as he opened it.

"Command of La Reve, sir? But surely Mr. Hornblower--"

"Will make an able second for you, sir," interjected Pellew. "It is well past time that you discharged your duty and took in a prize for your ship, Mr Clayton!"

And so it was done. Clayton found himself aboard the prize with his friend, and an unexpected passenger the next morning.

The Duchess of Wharfedale was both a shock and a pleasure to Clayton. Her plain manner and humble origins were belied by her air of assurance. All too soon, seasickness deprived them of her company, and soon after that, they were all deprived of their liberty. But greater shocks were to follow.

****

The cell door creaked open, and the two men were roughly shoved inside. The surroundings were depressing, three rough beds with thin mattresses and a glassless, barred window looking out onto a cheerless compound. But at least it was quiet, and the jeering, refuse-throwing townspeople were behind them.

Clayton sat wearily on one of the bunks, and jumped up as it gave a low moan. He looked at the lump of blankets curiously. Hornblower reached out a cautious hand and pulled back the blanket. The terrified face of Archie Kennedy stared wide-eyed at them.

"Go away! Go away!"

"Archie!" Hornblower cried.

Clayton moved slowly forward, put a gentle hand on the taut shoulder. "Archie?"

Archie Kennedy was shocked into silence. Was he going mad at last? He had felt madness tugging at him often enough in the past year. He had nearly succumbed to it as he had lain beneath the grating in the courtyard outside the window. He stared into the gentle face before him. Surely Henry had died long ago. He felt tears start to his eyes as he remembered his last sight of the man. Yes, he was going mad. No one could have survived such a wound.

Clayton put his arms around his friend, holding him close as he wept. "Archie, it's all right," he said softly. "What have they done to you?" He stroked the body held tight against further suffering, and kissed the lank hair and wet cheeks. Slowly, very slowly, Archie relaxed into the comforting embrace, and Clayton held him until he sank into sleep. Gently, he wiped the tears from Archie's face and lay him in the bunk again. He covered him as warmly as he could and then sat on the edge of the bunk, staring into space.

Once again, his world had fallen in, and he was left to sit in the wreckage. One sight of Archie, one moment of holding his angel in his arms and he knew that it had all been a façade, a hollow shell he had forced himself to accept as reality. He knew that he could never rebuild it again. The truest part of himself was bound up with Archie. He was whole again at last. The Navy, Indefatigable, Pellew's respect, all of it was nothing without Archie. Now that he was himself again, he would make his angel well again as well.

Hornblower sat down on the other bunk as Henry tended to Archie, thinking furiously. The events of the past few days whirled about in his head, mixed with this new, sudden revelation. He had known that Henry loved Archie, but it had been an abstract before. Now he was faced with the reality. His heart went out to the pair across the cell. How would he react if it had been Edward under that rough blanket? He realized the strength of their attachment, even as it revealed the strength of his own, and that led to the knowledge that they must get back, and the problem at hand. Archie was obviously in no condition to walk across the compound, much less escape it. He turned to the elements of that escape, relieved to have something solid to cling to in this sea of uncertainty.

He took command of himself and rose to his feet. He lay a gentle hand on Henry's shoulder. The older man looked up into brown eyes full of understanding. "It's all right, Henry," Hornblower said. "You must look after him, so he can come with us when we escape this place."

Escape? Clayton had thought of nothing beyond Archie, he realized guiltily. He was supposed to be in command! "Escape--" he remembered the town, and the townspeople, shrieking what had to be abuse as they pelted the captured sailors with refuse. How could they possibly escape this place? He felt the terrible weight of command settle on his shoulders again. He looked down at the sleeping man on the bed and carefully rose to his feet. "Yes, of course," he said. "What have you observed, Horatio?"

****

Clayton woke to Kennedy's strangled groans from the next bed. As quick as thought, he was across the small space between them and the younger man was in his arms. Silently he cursed himself for observing the proprieties and allowing Archie to sleep alone. "Archie? It's all right, you're safe," he soothed. The body still shook in his arms. Horatio was beside them now, but Clayton could spare no thought for him. He continued to speak softly and stroke the rigid form he held. At last, Kennedy relaxed. He lay limply in Clayton's arms for a moment, then slowly opened his eyes. Clayton's heart sank at the depth of despair he saw in them.

"I was having a fit, wasn't I," Kennedy said quietly. He tried to turn away, but Clayton wouldn't allow him to. He was too weak to break his hold.

"Please, go to bed, Horatio," Clayton said softly.

Hornblower obediently climbed back into the upper bunk and lay still. He knew Henry was right, and Archie needed help that he couldn't give. He wanted to explain that he understood, that he knew what the two of them shared, but this was not the time. When Archie was better, perhaps. He turned his mind to their escape.

"Please, let me go," Kennedy asked feebly. He couldn't face Henry, but he couldn't escape those encircling arms either. With a consuming shame, he realized that he didn't want to. He fought back tears. He wouldn't break down again, he wouldn't!

"Oh Archie, what have they done to you!" Clayton's voice was thick with unshed tears. "I'm so sorry, I never knew, I never even tried to find out what had happened to you!" He cradled the unresisting body against him. Its thinness was like a knife in his heart. How could he have abandoned Archie like that?

Kennedy shook his head. "How could you have known? And did I think to find out about you, Henry? I'm not worth the bother--I wish you'd never come!"

"You are everything to me, Archie. Everything." Clayton's tone was so intense that Kennedy stopped struggling for a moment, mesmerized by it, and by the grey eyes, staring into his with equal intensity. "I wished I really was dead when I found out what had happened to you. It was only by accepting you as gone that I was able to go on."

Kennedy was shocked to see tears in the slate eyes above him.

"I thank God that I've found you again, Archie, and I pray that you will someday understand what a noble, honorable and beautiful man you are. Without you, I would have died long ago." Clayton tightened his arms about the man in his arms, and to his joy, was embraced in his turn. They clung together wordlessly. Clayton buried his face in the matted blond hair and fought for control. Archie needed him whole and strong.

Kennedy felt the ice about his heart begin to melt. He had not known it was there until now. His time in prison had numbed him to such things. He knew that Henry was seeing him through the eyes of memory, and he dreaded the time when he would be exposed for what he truly was, but that time was not now and in his weakness, he clung to the comfort his lover offered. He began to kiss the soft throat against his lips, wanting to give something back.

Clayton shivered as Archie explored his neck. He felt the arms about him loosen and run along his back. It had been so long since anyone had touched him like this! Lust raced through him like white hot fire. He felt Archie reach for his manhood, already hard and straining against his trousers. Memories of Justinian and other times flashed through his mind, and he crushed the other man to his chest, covering the dear face with kisses.

Memories of Justinian ran through Kennedy's mind as well, and they were not pleasant ones. He seemed to hear Simpson's voice, feel his rough hands on his body instead of Henry's gentle ones. The strength of Henry's feeling terrified him, and he felt the blackness sweep over him again.

"No!" Clayton was horrified to feel the thin body beneath him go into spasm again. He held on, cursing himself for taking what he wanted when he should have known better. It seemed an eternity before the shaking stopped, and he was weeping openly before Archie lay unconscious in his arms. He lay his lover out on the hard bed, and tucked the scratchy wool about him. He was so cold!

"Henry, what's wrong?" Hornblower's concerned voice made Clayton jump guiltily. "He had another fit, Horatio," Clayton answered wearily. "I'm doing what I can for him. Please, go back to sleep."

Instead of doing as he was told, Hornblower swung down from the bunk. Gently he turned Clayton to face him. He was shocked to see tears on his cheeks and standing in his eyes. "Henry, he'll be all right, and we shall get out of here. I swear it to you." Hornblower put his arms around the other man, not knowing what else to do.

Clayton tried to pull away. "Horatio, if you don't mind, I'd like to be alone now."

Instead of letting him go, Hornblower kissed him softly. "I know you would, but I need you, Henry. He needs you as well if we are to survive and see the last of this place. You did not abandon me to my own despair." He took Clayton's face in his hands and kissed him again.

With a groan, Clayton returned the kiss, sliding his arms around Hornblower hungrily. He caught the other man to him, desperate to feel flesh against him. The fire that Archie had awakened in him rose again, drowning him with its intensity. Horatio's heat seemed to burn him through their clothes and he pulled at them, needing to touch and be touched, to know that he was loved, and to give love in return.

Hornblower was a little frightened at the strength of Clayton's response, but he did not allow it to interfere with his own. He had never been frightened of Henry, only of his own desires. That was all behind him now, and Henry obviously needed him. The knowledge that he could provoke such desire in Henry was arousing in itself, and he felt himself rise to meet his friend, whose stiffened weapon was grinding into his. He ran his hands down Henry's sides, over his hips, and pressed them hard against his erection. The older man threw his head back, but made no sound. Hornblower could feel him trembling all over. It had never been like this with Edward, he thought. He had never felt such need, or such despair in his handsome lover. He hoped he would be equal to the task demanded of him. He realized that he did indeed love Henry. Not in the all-consuming way he loved Edward, but he loved him nevertheless, and it hurt to see him in such pain. He wondered how many months his friend had hidden this from him. He unbuttoned Henry's trousers and took him in hand.

Clayton's breath caught in his throat as Horatio's hand took hold of him. Schooled to silence by the long years at sea, he made no sound, though the pressure of that loving hand made him feel faint at the effort it took. He clutched at his friend as he felt him begin to slide down his body. No! He needed to be held, and to hold warm flesh in his turn. "Please, Horatio," he whispered. "Let me feel you--."

"Lie down, Henry," Hornblower whispered back. He could feel the faint tremor that ran through Clayton's body at the request. He let go for a moment, and pulled back the blanket on the lower bunk. Then he pulled his shirt over his head.

Clayton drank in the sight of him, picked out in the moonlight that streamed in the glassless window. He was beautiful, clad only in slop chest trousers, his chest highlighted in silver. He felt the wanton smile down to his toes as Horatio came towards him and gently pulled his own shirt off, dropping it carelessly to the floor. Soft hands on his bare shoulders guided him down, and then there was the electric tingle of flesh upon flesh as Horatio lay down, half on top of him. His hand resumed its work, while the other trailed along his face, and down his neck. Abruptly, he exploded in that hand, unable to hold back. He buried his face in the chest before him to stop the cry that threatened to bring the guards down on them.

Just as abruptly, he was sobbing, the tears coming as unexpectedly as his orgasm had. He had no right to this, he was not fit to be an officer, to selfishly take his pleasure while others depended on him. All the confidence built up in the months under Pellew's command was shattered in an instant.

"Ssshh, Henry, it's all right," Hornblower whispered. He didn't know what else to do. He simply held the other man, and whispered soothing words until at last, the silent tears stopped.

"You must take command," Clayton said at last.

Hornblower went cold. "You are in command, Henry." he said. "I cannot take it from you unless you are rendered unfit for duty."

"But I am unfit, Horatio. Can't you see that?" Clayton could not look at his friend. He kept his face against Horatio's chest.

"No, I cannot, Henry, and neither will the Admiralty." Hornblower took Clayton by the shoulders and forced him to look at him. "Don't you understand? It would be the end of your career."

"That was over long before I set foot in Indefatigable," Clayton said. "I was a fool to ever believe otherwise."

Hornblower's eyes locked with Clayton's. "You were in circumstances that would have shaken any man's confidence! Until the war came, you had no chance for advancement, no way to escape Simpson or Justinian. When your fortunes changed, you made use of your opportunities and have done well. I will not allow you to throw your career away, and I will NOT take command from you!" His voice never rose above a whisper, but his words hammered into Clayton's brain.

At last Clayton looked away. "I'm sorry, Horatio. I am not the man you think me."

Hornblower kissed Clayton softly, then rose from the bunk. "We will speak no more of this, Henry." He climbed back into the upper bunk.

It was a long time before either of them slept.

****

The days passed slowly, and the sameness of their surroundings wore on the seamen as well as the officers. Clayton and Hornblower had circulated among them, covertly telling them to make ready, that they would inform them when an escape attempt was to be made. Kennedy's condition was obvious to all.

Archie pretended to sip at his soup. The three officers were sitting at the table outside their cell window. He looked up at the cloudless sky and let the voices of Henry and Horatio wash over him. The lightheaded feeling was coming more and more often. He welcomed it. When it came, he seemed to see through things, to touch the heart of the universe. It was better than any wine. When their attention was off him, he unobtrusively poured most of his portion into the dirt beside him. He stuffed the bread into his shirt. Later, he would throw it down the privy. So far, the two had not noticed how little he ate. He wondered briefly how they would react to his eventual death. For him, it would be a relief. He had tried to escape, and he knew now that he would never leave this place, with or without his friends. The sooner he was gone, the sooner they could go back to where they belonged.

It was the Duchess who saved him. Some days into their captivity, the door to their cell opened, and she was shown in. She took Hornblower and left Clayton and Kennedy behind. Clayton was glad of her intervention. Kind as Horatio was, his presence grated on both the other men. His constant plans for escape seemed impossible. Clayton wanted nothing more than to concentrate on Archie, to make him well again. Time enough for escape when he was whole and strong. Her request for two hours of his company each day seemed a godsend. Don Massaredo took Clayton's word, and granted parole to him as well, as a privilege due him by rank, but Kennedy was unable to move beyond the compound, and so Clayton did not do so either. It seemed that the Duchess had charmed the Spanish officer just as she did everyone else.

On the second day, he discovered what Archie had been doing with his food.

"What in hell's name are you doing," Clayton demanded. He pointed at the wet puddle on the dirt floor.

Archie looked defiantly back. "Giving the rest of you a fighting chance!"

Clayton dropped to his knees on the floor beside his lover. "How? By making yourself so weak that we all must stay here?"

"No!" Archie hissed. "I'll only get you all captured--the sooner I am gone, the sooner you can get back where you belong!"

Clayton just stared at him for a moment, stunned as the full meaning of Archie's words sank in. He felt sick. "W-what?" Oh dear God. The vacant look in his lover's eyes, the inordinate amount of sleep he took. They had been here for some time, yet he got no stronger. It all fell into place. Archie had been trying to kill himself.

Archie turned away and lay his cheek against the cold stone. "I've tried to escape. I've told you before. I can't do it any more."

Clayton closed his eyes and took a deep breath, mastering himself. "How could I leave here, knowing that you had died to make me do it?" He opened his eyes. "How dare you decide such a thing! How dare you think of yourself as nothing, and trample on my love for you!" By now he had taken Kennedy by the shoulders and was shaking him. "I will-not-lose-you-again!" Archie's head whipped back and forth, and belatedly, Clayton realized what he was doing. He let go as if burned. "Oh God, Archie! I'm sorry!"

Kennedy slumped against the wall again. "Don't be." He turned his head and looked into the grey eyes before him. "See what I do to you? Can't you see that it would have been better if you had never come, if I had died here and you had never known?"

"No!" Clayton's voice echoed off the cell walls. He realized he was shouting and moderated his tone. "You cannot do this. I will not allow it." Suddenly he knew what he must do. "Very well. If you don't eat, neither do I. You are my life. I nearly died when I found out what had happened to you. I will not go through that again."

Archie's eyes grew frightened. "You must live!"

"Then so must you," Clayton returned. He picked up his own bowl. His eyes never left Archie's as he poured it into the dirt. "I mean it, Archie. I shall not live without you."

Archie picked up the hunk of bread. Damn you, he thought as he bit into the dry stuff. He choked down a mouthful, then another. Clayton's eyes never left his until the whole portion was gone. He hated his return to life, hated Henry for forcing it upon him. The lovely dizziness began to recede. He felt heavy, earthbound again. The escape he had promised himself was an illusion. It had failed, just as all his other attempts had. There was truly no way out of Ferrol.

****

When the abortive attempt at escape came, the officers were caught completely by surprise. Hornblower threw himself to the van, and used his friendship with Don Massaredo to save the rest of them. Clayton's spirits sank even lower as he saw his friend take the punishment as well. He was in command, and he should be the one in that damp hole! The only bright spot, the only reason to try at all was Archie. After Clayton's threat, he had come back from the precipice and had seized his life with both hands. Neither of them had spoken to Horatio about what had passed between them, but daily he grew stronger. Until this last great setback, they had been counting the days before they could make their move.

When the Dons allowed them out of their cell, Clayton went to the seamen. He lined them up in their cell and walked slowly back and forth before them.

"I want the men responsible," he said quietly.

Silence.

"Your actions may well have cost us our one chance to get out of here," he said. "The Dons are on their guard now, and Mr. Hornblower is taking the punishment for your thoughtless attempt. I have no intention of turning the guilty parties over to them, but if you do not see fit to answer my question, I shall hold you all responsible." He stopped, and looked directly at them all. "When we do get out of here--and we will do so--I shall see that the proper action is taken against all of you. He walked slowly back down the line. "I can understand your desire to escape. We all share it. I can understand why you might make such an attempt, and your poor judgement in doing so. But you broke my trust. If you will not make amends for that act, then you are worthless to me, and to the Navy."

"I did it, sir, and it's a good thing that someone took matters into their own hands!" Reynolds had stepped forward out of the line. "You can trust us, same as you always did. The question is, can we trust the likes of you?" The dark-haired seaman faced his officer, his chin thrust out insolently.

Clayton looked him up and down, giving himself time to think before he answered. "What gives you the right to question my orders, Reynolds," he inquired mildly. His tone hardened. "Mr Hornblower and I informed you of the situation, and instructed you to wait for further orders. Was that not clear to you?" He advanced on the seaman, knowing that he had to take control of this situation now, before it became worse. "We are all leaving this place, but it will be when *I* say, and no sooner! Do you understand me?" He was inches from Reynold's face now.

"Yes sir," Reynolds answered. His eyes dropped to the dirt. "We thought we were doing the best we could, sir."

Clayton stepped back and looked at them all for a long moment. "You should have known better. You all should have known better. But we are in an extraordinary situation. We all must function as one unit if we are to get out of here. You showed that you were capable of such when you attempted this escape." He paused again, his eyes sweeping over them all. "I am asking for your trust, and I am willing to give you mine in return. We must know what we face beyond these walls if we are to escape this place, and we all leave together. Simply getting beyond that gate got us nowhere, as you saw. We must get back to England if we are to do our duty. Another useless and ill-conceived attempt will not be tolerated. Is that understood?"

There were a few nods, but no real assent.

"I said, is that understood?" Clayton's tone was not loud, for fear of the guards, but its intensity reached to the corners of the room.

"Yes sir," Matthews said forcefully. He looked at his mates. The rest of the room fell into line. "Yes sir," the rest said as one.

"Very well." Clayton said. "You will receive further orders presently. Until then, take note of our surroundings, and be aware that we do indeed have a plan. We now must wait for Mr. Hornblower to be released, and we must find out what further precautions the Dons have taken against our escape. You are dismissed." He walked slowly from the room.

****

When Hornblower was at last released, he was in no condition to do anything. He staggered back into their cell, and was caught by Clayton and Kennedy. He managed to inquire after their health before he collapsed.

When he awoke, Kennedy was sitting on the edge of his bunk. "Hello, Horatio," he said. "How are you feeling?" The smile he got in answer was more a grimace, though he knew it was meant to be encouraging. He picked up the cup of water he had ready on the floor and held it to Hornblower's lips. Kennedy supported the sick man as he drank thirstily, and was not surprised when he drained the cup. He remembered all too well the terrible thirst that had lasted for days after he had been released. He lay his friend back on the thin mattress and reached for the stone bottle beside him

"Is there any more," Hornblower asked. He could not understand why he felt worse here, lying blessedly flat in a bunk with his friends around him, than he had shivering in that noisome drain. His arms and legs ached abominably, and every time he raised his head, the dizziness threatened to overwhelm him.

Kennedy helped him to drink some more from the refilled cup. "There's plenty, Horatio. Lie still. It took days for the dizzy spells to go away." He was glad to see that the swelling was going down around Hornblower's eyes, and his lips were back to normal size. Thank God they had not kept him in there nearly as long as he had been. But then, he did not have the special friendship of the Commandant, he thought bitterly. Why was it that every time Horatio did something, he not only did it properly, but managed to excel? The only thing he had ever been good at was far behind him now. He wished he had never left Drury Lane.

"Is there something wrong, Archie," Hornblower asked softly. He had seen the cloud pass over his friend's face, and hoped that he was not the cause.

Kennedy pushed the uncharitable thoughts from his mind and smiled at Hornblower. "No, Horatio, it's nothing. Just remembering what it was like. It will probably be best if you get some food and rest first, but the more you move about, the sooner you will regain the use of your limbs. You're lucky they let you out so soon." He was just able to keep the bitterness out of his tone.

Hornblower damned himself for not realizing what a toll his punishment had taken on the others, especially Archie. What he must have endured, and without even a friend to care for him afterwards. "I'm sorry, Archie, I should have known." He smiled at his friend. "Thank you for looking after me."

Did he have to be so damned noble? Archie forced himself to smile back. "You would have done the same for me, Horatio." He looked out the window. "It'll be light soon. Try and sleep. It's the best thing for you."

Hornblower could not help but obey. He was so tired! He could feel the water he had taken inside him, swelling his tissues as the deck timbers swelled when they were wet down each day. Even ships had to drink, he thought fuzzily just before he slept.

****

Within the week, Hornblower had resumed his daily walks, and soon was fit again. He took his exercise whatever the weather, determined to recover as soon as possible. He found his thoughts drifting to Edward, and used them as a spur to finding a way out of Ferrol.

The storm, and the ship chased onto the jagged rocks known as the Devils Teeth provided that chance. Hornblower could not stand to see men killed by the merciless sea when they could be saved, and Don Massaredo could not stand by and do nothing, even when nothing could be done. But he flatly refused to let all three officers go.

"One of you must stay behind," he insisted. "There is no need for three officers for such a task, and it is the perfect means of escape for you, is it not?"

"Sir, I have given you my parole," Hornblower replied. "I will not break it."

The Spanish officer smiled sadly. "At this moment, you mean that. But once away from shore, the world looks different to a man. If you should fail to return, I must answer to my superiors. What would they say if they knew that I had given the means of escape to three British officers? No. One of you must stay behind."

"Yes." Clayton spoke at last. "And as I am in command, I shall be the one to stand surety for you, Mr. Hornblower." He turned his gaze to the Spaniard. "I understand your position, Don Massaredo, and I know the color of Mr. Hornblower's soul." He was warmed by the surprise in the Spanish officer's eyes, the sudden look of respect he saw there.

"Very well, Sirs." Don Massaredo waved Hornblower towards the boat lying ready in the shallows. "Good luck to you, Mr. Hornblower!"

Hornblower nodded to both officers and gathered his crew.

Kennedy tumbled into the boat, and they were off. Clayton was glad he had avoided any gestures of parting, though it hurt to see him go off without a word. It was familiar, this public face they both wore, and it was the price of their love. He accepted it, then turned to go back to his lonely cell.

"Mr. Clayton." Don Massaredo called him back. "A word, if you please." Clayton fell in beside the commandant and they walked back towards to fortress together. Most of the journey had to be passed in silence, as each man fought the rain and wind. At last they stood dripping inside the first set of gates.

"You are the senior officer, yet today is the first time I have seen you command. Why?" Don Massaredo paused under an overhang.

"A commander has many duties," Clayton answered. "Some faces he must show are more public than others. And in any case, there is little need for a commander in a prison."

The other officer smiled. "To the observer, it would seem that Mr. Hornblower is the one your men look to, not you."

Clayton nodded. "It was certainly Mr. Hornblower that the Duchess looked to, sir."

Don Massaredo regarded the other officer shrewdly. "We were not speaking of the Duchess, Mr. Clayton, but of you. You have also been given the freedom of the cliffs, why do you not use it?"

Clayton glanced at him guardedly, surprised at the question. "Someone had to see to Mr. Kennedy, sir. One of the duties of a commander is to see to his men, and Mr. Hornblower had a far more compelling reason to go."

The Spaniard chuckled. " Very well, Mr. Clayton. We shall speak of safer subjects. She was beautiful, was she not?"

"She was charming," Clayton answered," and that is more dangerous still." He smiled back at his captor.

"It is indeed," Don Massaredo agreed. "But I find my days are emptier without her."

As they came to the prison gate, he said something in fluid Spanish to the guard. The man saluted and opened the iron portal. "Good night, Mr. Clayton."

****

Pellew held himself tightly in check as Hornblower descended the ladder into the waiting boat. It was one of the hardest things he had ever done, but he owed it to both of them. Such a short time they had had together, and now he must send him off with hardly a word. He had known that this would come to them both, had known it before they had ever touched. It was the reason that he had resolved never to give in to his feelings for the young man.

But he had not anticipated the pride he would feel as he watched the young man go. The admiration, and the joy that he was worthy of the love of the most honorable and brave man he had ever known. It was that which allowed him to stand solemnly on his quarterdeck as the salute was fired, and that which got him back down the companionway to the privacy of his cabin with dignity.

In the boat, Hornblower did not look back. He couldn't. He tried not to sink into his misery as he tried to steer. Every report of the ship's guns made him jump, which forced him to fight the huge sweep oar. He knew that he had acted with honor, but all he could think of was Edward's eyes, filled with pride, as he kept his silence. They had not had even a moment alone. Perhaps that was best. Perhaps he would have disgraced himself before his lover if they had.

Kennedy, however, was filled with a strange happiness. For once, he had chosen his course, it had not chosen him. He was going back to Ferrol of his own free will, the course that his honor and his heart demanded. As soon as he had spoken on deck, the weight of Simpson had fallen from his shoulders. He was free again, freer than he had been since leaving Drury Lane. More than that, he was a man at last.

****

Clayton looked up as the cell door was opened and Hornblower and Kennedy walked through it. He realized then that whatever he had said to Don Massaredo, he had not really expected them to return. It was not the color of Horatio's soul, or the price of honor, it was simply his usual run of luck. He had woken in a cold sweat from nightmares where he had found their bodies washed up on the beach. He took his walk there anyway, knowing that the cliffs above the sea would offer a quick release should his fear become reality. For once it was dreams, not nightmares that had come to life.

Kennedy saw the relief in Henry's eyes.

"You came," he whispered. Then he shook himself, and stood up. "Welcome back, gentlemen. Good sense did not outweigh honor, I see."

Hornblower smiled. "And leave you here to enjoy the Dons' hospitality without us, Henry?" He briefly embraced his friend, then hoisted himself up into his old bunk and laced his fingers behind his head. "Captain Pellew sends his regards."

"Captain Pellew? Horatio, you don't mean you were aboard Indefatigable! "

Kennedy nodded. "Yes, we've just come from her."

Clayton saw something new in his lover's face. The golden lad he had loved still shone out of the blue eyes, but there was a peace and a confidence that had not been there before. Something had changed in the last day, for both of them. He felt it himself, and realized that he had known it since the fishing boat had pulled away from the shore. Suddenly he wanted to be beyond the walls that imprisoned them, even if it were only for a short time. He wanted to breathe the free air and he wanted to do it with those he loved. "It's a fine day, and we have given our parole-- Let's make use of it!"

"No," Hornblower said. He realized that after the rescue, and the exhausting events of the day, he just wanted to sleep, to gain a brief respite from the misery of leaving his ship and his lover as he had been forced to. Honor was served, but it was a bitter thing. "You go, Archie." At least they could enjoy what he could not.

"Horatio, what's wrong," Kennedy asked.

Hornblower sat up and smiled reassuringly at his friend. "Nothing, Archie. I'm just tired. You go, and I shall stay here and sleep." He lay back on the rough blankets.

"Would you walk with me, Archie?" Clayton asked.

"I'd like that, Henry."

The guards let them through the gates without incident, and soon they were standing in the sunshine, looking out to sea from the cliffs beneath the fortress. As they walked, Kennedy told Clayton of the rescue, and their time aboard Indefatigable. Clayton was again struck by the change in his lover. He drank in the peace of the afternoon, and of being with Archie, whole and strong at last.

When they were well out of sight of the fortress, Clayton selected a small path that branched off the main track. It wound down the side of the cliff, and was strewn with rocks.

"That's quite a scramble, Henry," Kennedy observed. "Are you sure?"

Clayton turned sideways to squeeze between two rocks. "Yes, I followed it yesterday. It widens out in a bit, and the view is spectacular." He did not mention that he had been seeking a means of permanent escape at the time, should the worst happen. Now the rock ledge would provide them with a place where they could be completely alone, something that he had never been able to arrange before.

A few more minutes of effort, and they were forced to duck through a large crack in the rock. The whole side of the hill slanted over, and then formed an arch above a wide ledge. For a few feet, the pair had to crouch, but it widened out and in the center they were able to stand upright. Only the sound of the surf, far below, penetrated the silence of the tons of rock that surrounded them.

Kennedy looked far out to sea for a moment, then turned shining eyes on his lover. "Henry, this is marvelous!"

'"As are you", Clayton said, smiling back. He reached out a gentle hand to stroke the silken cheek before him. "My angel."

Archie leaned into it, and his eyes fluttered closed. It had been so long since he had felt desire for anyone. He realized just how long it had been since he had taken joy in anything. He reached up and covered Henry's hand with his own. He pulled it to his lips and kissed it slowly. He ran his tongue around the fingers that trembled as he did so, delighting in the taste of them. Here was a place where he could take his time, and his pleasure, and he meant to do so. He opened his eyes to stare into Henry's. The slate gaze was filled with wonder, and passion. "I've missed you, Henry." The inadvertent echo of Simpson's words no longer stirred anything in him, and he knew that at last he was free.

"I never expected to see you again, Archie," Clayton answered.

"Now, or before?" Kennedy asked.

"Both." Clayton was uncomfortably aware that there were tears in his eyes.

"I thought you were dead," Kennedy said. "And I was glad, for you would never know what I had become." He pulled Henry toward him, wanting to give comfort. "Now all is different." He smiled over the blue-clad shoulder as Henry's arms went tightly about him. It had indeed been a long time since he had been able to take his time with a man. Memories of Drury Lane crowded aside those of Justinian. Nights that had seemed as if they would last forever lived again in his memory. He had learned far more of men in the short time he had been an actor than he had ever learned in the Navy, and he now realized just how much he had lost. They had been golden days. He hoped that the times yet to come would be as sweet. The body pressed against his was warm and eager for him. No more the furtive groping in the darkness below decks, the struggle for silence and speed before they were discovered. He ran his hands down until they cupped Henry's buttocks, and pulled them closer still.

Clayton gasped as their erections ground together. His head was spinning. Archie had always been willing, often eager, but this was not the boy he had known. The white-clad hips undulated against his, raising fire throughout him. He felt lips at his throat, insistent and soft. They moved to cover his, and then their tongues tangled together.

Kennedy took his time, and enjoyed the slow surrender of Henry's will to his. His lover's breath came ragged now, but still he made no sound. He grinned wickedly against the other man's mouth. He would change that! He pulled his head back, and licked the pliant lips so close to his own. Henry's eyes closed again, and his mouth gaped open. His legs were trembling. Kennedy could feel them giving up the battle to stand. He slowly let go of his lover and guided him to the back of the ledge. "Sit down, Henry," he said softly. "We don't want to end up at the bottom of the cliff, now do we?"

"No…" Clayton answered absently. "That wouldn't do at all."

Kennedy chuckled. "Ever the practical one." He threw a leg over Clayton and straddled him. "What shall you do now?"

"Surrender. Wholeheartedly." Clayton grinned. "Whatever do you intend?"

Kennedy spent a long moment appraising his position. He ground his thighs against the stiffened member beneath them.

Clayton clenched his teeth, reflexively remaining silent, and thrust upward. "Oh, I see."

Kennedy giggled. "Take your clothes off, Henry."

"Here?" Clayton squeaked in surprise. "Now?"

"Yes," Kennedy answered languidly. "Here and now." He stood up and began to remove his own garments.

Clayton made no move toward his own garments. He sat mesmerized as Kennedy slowly took off every stitch. First the blue coat hit the stone of the ledge. The black neckcloth followed. He stretched slowly and pulled open the neck of his shirt. Then he kicked off his shoes and took off his stockings.

Kennedy had always loved being the center of his lover's attention, and he began to perform. He wiggled silkily out of his shirt, then ran his hands down his sides to the waisband of his breeches.

Clayton watched the slow sensuous movements of his lover as he stripped. Archie grinned rakishly as he pushed his trousers off his hips. Slowly they slid down, revealing his stiffened cock. He stepped out of them and stood naked against the sky.

"Well?" Kennedy demanded. "Are you going to leave yours on?" He walked forward. "Or must I take them off you myself?" He kept coming, until his prick brushed against Clayton's cheek.

Clayton turned his head and took it into his mouth.

Kennedy gasped, and clutched at the rock wall. He hadn't expected Henry to take control so suddenly. The surprise was almost as arousing as the feel of his lover's mouth around his manhood.

He cried out as he felt Henry's lips take in all of him. Hands slid around his hips, gripping his arse as he was assaulted with lips and tongue. He felt his orgasm building, and he held nothing back. He hoped it would be one of many.

Clayton took Archie's weight as his knees buckled. Gently he lay the man back on his discarded coat and covered him with kisses. He stretched out full length beside him and revelled in the sensation of simply holding him.

Kennedy rose through a haze of pleasure. He reached out for Henry. Slowly he sat up and began to undress his lover.

Clayton tried to push the questing hands away as they busied themselves at his neckcloth. "Archie, this isn't necessary."

"Isn't it?" Kennedy purred. He undid the belt at Henry's waist.

"I want nothing more than to hold you, love." Clayton pulled the roving hands out of his coat.

"Well I want more of you Henry. Much more." Kennedy pulled the other man's shirt out of the waistband of his trousers. He filled his hands with warm flesh.

"You don't have to do this."

"Don't have to? Henry, don't you think I want to?" Kennedy began on the buttons of Clayton's trousers.

Clayton grabbed Kennedy's hands. "Archie, I don't want to hurt you. I won't be yet another tormentor."

Archie sat up against the rock. "Henry, I am not a child, nor am I inexperienced. I want you to make love to me, and I know what it is that I ask. Why won't you believe me?"

Clayton looked out to sea. "How can you, Archie? After what Simpson did to you, how could you ever want--" To his surprise, Kennedy burst out laughing.

"Simpson-- Henry, do you think that Simpson was my first?" He pulled the other man to face him. "I spent six months in Drury Lane before I went to sea. Believe me, I didn't spend all my time in the playhouses. I've probably had more men than you have."

"What?" Clayton couldn't believe his ears.

A wistful look crossed Kennedy's face. "I was an unknown boy with few friends and fewer connections. Believe me, I expanded my circle any way I could." He searched the face before him, fearful he had said too much. "Henry, I hope you don't think ill of me for it."

Clayton was shocked at the revelation, but recovered himself. "My angel. How could I think ill of you? You are my life."

"But am I your equal?" Blue eyes locked with gray.

"Yes."

Kennedy lay himself across Clayton's lap. "Then make love to me, Henry. Let me feel you inside me. Let me be yours at last. This was never possible in Justinian, and who knows when we shall have this chance again?" He wriggled across Clayton's still-erect cock. Even through the cloth, it jumped at the contact. "Take your clothes off, Henry. I've never been able to see you naked." He reached again for the fall of the other man's trousers.

Clayton allowed him to undo them, and pull the white cloth off his legs. He slid out of his coat and pulled his shirt over his head. He knelt there self consciously on the stone.

Archie filled his eyes with his lover. He grinned happily at the sight of his rampant cock. "Henry, please, make love to me." He lay back on his discarded coat and held his arms out to receive him.

Clayton hesitated.

Kennedy rolled onto his side, and rose to hands and knees. He slithered forward and slid his hands up Clayton's thighs, across his quivering belly and up his chest. He took Henry's face between them, and then twined his fingers into the blond hair. As he kissed him deeply, he pressed their bodies together. As his kiss was returned, and eager arms wound around him, he climbed into Henry's lap again. He pressed himself against the hardened cock, his own stabbing into Henry's belly. He broke the kiss to whisper in his lover's ear. "You will make love to me, Henry. Do you understand me? I know you want me, and I will have you."

Clayton hissed in surprise as Archie's tongue followed his words into his ear. He leaned forward, unable to resist any longer, and lay the golden lad on his back. "Archie, I--" He didn't know what to say. The blue eyes that looked back into his were smoldering with passion. He felt them down to his groin.

"Put your cock in my mouth, Henry." The perfect lips gaped open. "Let me make you ready to take me."

Mesmerized, Clayton did as he was told.

Kennedy rose off the rock, and took Henry's prick in his mouth. He clamped his hand tightly around the root of it as he coated it with saliva. He sensed that his lover would atttempt to reach his peak right there, and he had no intention of allowing him to. Reluctantly, he took his mouth away. He ran his hands up the belly that rose clifflike before him. Clayton's eyes met his again.

"Are you sure, Archie," he asked.

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life," Kennedy answered.

Clayton reached down and put his fingers in the willing mouth. The swirling tongue coated them as well. It echoed down to his groin, though the intensity was lessened enough for him to think. He intended to test this strange willingness. He hardly dared believe it was real. But the mouth and hands that had held him were knowing, and he wanted to have it be true.

Archie shivered under him as the first finger went in. "Oooh, yes, Henry!" He pushed down on it until it was in as far as it would go.

Clayton began to believe as the muscles that surrounded his finger contracted. He slid it gently in and out, and was rewarded with a deep moan of pleasure. He slid another finger inside his lover. The passage was indeed no stranger to love, and Archie's enjoyment was obvious. He writhed on the floor of the cavern, taking as much of Henry's hand inside him as he could. His breathing was rough with passion, his prick weeping. Clayton finally allowed himself what he most wanted.

Slowly, very slowly, Archie felt Henry's cock at his entrance at last. He felt his body open to his lover, and groaned at the pleasure of it. There was nothing but the delicious feeling of being entered, gently and lovingly. The slight breeze coming in from the sea was electric over his body, the feel of Henry's hands pulling his hips back to meet him scalding in their intensity. At last, he felt Henry's hips against his backside.

Clayton forced himself to remain as he was, though he trembled at the effort. He opened his eyes, and searched the man sprawled back on the stone for any hint of pain. He found none. Archie was glorious, his muscled perfection arched back from where their bodies joined. His hands were clenched in the wool of his coat, and his mouth gaped open. His breath came hard and fast. As Clayton watched, the blue eyes opened and locked with his.

"Henry, please...."

Clayton felt the breath forced from his lungs as Archie's arse clenched on his member. He thrust into it, unable to hold back any longer.

"Yes--Oh god YES!"

Archie's passion inflamed him, and Henry began to thrust deep and hard. His world contracted to Archie, writhing on his cock, crying his name, begging him not to stop. He couldn't have stopped if he had wanted to. The discipline of years at sea fell from him, and his own voice echoed off the rocks as he spent himself in Archie.

For a moment, all he could do was kneel there, still encased in warm flesh, his body heaving in the aftershocks of passion. His breath came hard and fast, and he took it in great gasps. At last, he managed to lift his head and look at his lover.

Archie's skin shone golden in the sunlight that streamed in from the west. A sleepy, satisfied grin quirked his lips. His belly was spattered with his own semen as he lay sprawled on his back. "Henry, that was wonderful...."

Carefully, Clayton pulled out of the warm body and lay down, wrapping his lover in his arms. Archie sighed and turned to face him. For a long time they lay there, exchanging long lazy kisses, and caressing each other in the warm afternoon light. When at last they rose and dressed, they were not going back to prison. The cage that had confined them was open now, and always would be.

THE END