Ok, Snippetts #2 .. I've asked about guidelines, no one has said boo, so delete it if its not in bounds. Ch 2 White Heather Inn Drawing rein, we dismount and lead the horses to the attached railed corral enclosure and once the horses are stabled, fodder bin filled and water bucket checked, with chattels in hand, I await Lucretius’ pleasure. As before, after the incident in the field, he examined his black mount thoroughly, flanks, withers, hocks and hooves before completing a similar examination of my gelding. “Evee’” Lucretius looked at me and spoke, surprising me with the usage of my current identifier. “I do believe that ‘Luke’ will prove exactly the man I need.” The thought put a smile of anticipation on my face. Pointing to the bundle tied behind his saddle, “I would bring me chattels?” He asked. “By all means,” I allowed, taking better notice of the well-tied bundle he slung over his shoulder. I had on several occasions carried a smaller-sized pack containing the wherewithal to complete various self-given tasks. Walking to the rear of the stable, I stashed bow, quiver and my sword in a recess where the wall met the hayloft. Evee’ would be out of character carrying weapons. Now I know some of the man’s credentials, I know this pack Lucretius carries will contain all his worldly possessions. Having travelled long journeys alone with nothing but a horse for a companion, my mind is hazarding a guess as to this bulky carry-all might contain. Most obvious are the ends of what I guess would be three tools or weapons’ handles protruding, the two longer ones being hide and leather thong-wrapped while the third, of a plain well-worn wooden variety. Curious, but not sufficiently so to ask, I watched while he checked arms, blade to be sure of ease of withdrawal and his dirk, “looking more like a short sword,” I noticed, tucked securely in his wide leather belt. Turning to leave, I notice the solitary lamp hanging burning low beneath the inn’s shingle has been joined with the glow of another, recent-lit lamp within the inn’s confines. Few people travel the roads and paths after dark, “which is precisely why ‘Lady Aleese’ does,” I thought. Many are the times I have arrived in the morning’s small hours and as the keeper is known and trusted, I know he can be relied on not to mention things untoward when I enter in one of my various guises. “How he will react to Lucretius,” I imagine, “will be worth observing.” I’m still coming to terms with his imposing stature. I have spent the better part of two hours now in his accompany and still credit my eyes with deceptive ability. “Newlyweds,” I remind him. “Perhaps with less gusto or sitting down will be an issue.” I reminded him, the lingering sting from his recent demonstration still being felt, as the two mile ride to get here refused to let me forget. Guised as newlyweds, once the inn keeper spreads the word, should ensure interruptions will be minimal. Any lingering pursuit is seeking a lady alone, newly-wedded couples will avoid curiosity simply by being a couple. “Besides,” I think, “Lucretius can answer door knocks. First sight of him will send most of the curious fleeing.” Either that, or I’ll lure them in and Luke can toss them out the window. My mind never stops, plotting, planning, seeking ways to gain advantage so even what began as no more than whim of curiosity, now ,or rather will after formalities, become just another available advantage in an array of many, many options available to me. I know from habit, a great deal of my free-thinking time from henceforth onwards will devoted to seeking ways the exploit the unique pairing that might soon become available, provided the man can keep his emotions under control, unless I tell him not to, ‘as it should be.’ So it began with Evee’ now taking the stage. With Lucretius following, I began to assume the guise. I held the door while Luke ‘ducked’ and entered with our baggage, “he not just ducked, he stooped,” I noticed. The Inn-keeper turned from where he was lighting another lamp when he heard the door open, espied first myself, a smile beginning to form when his eyes saw who followed. His eyes asked me a question but, smiling, I laid an affectionate hand oaf’s shoulder and the smile I gave: genuine. “Vince,” Evee’ called as if just recognising a familiar face. You can be the first to kiss the bride.” I scampered over in character, made a visible show of heaving my breasts onto the bar-top, leant over and with both arms around his neck, I kissed him full on the mouth. “Vince, I’m fine. Lucretius is a friend,” I said softly as the kiss ended. “Me and Luke just wed, see?” I added in a louder and excited-sounding tone, the ring was as fake as girl proudly displaying it for any to see with barely more than juvenile pride. “Luke, take the bags upstairs.” I wanted him seen as he headed to do my bidding. It also got him out of the way while I lied through my teeth. The character change had been in case anyone was inside but during the course of the play-acting with Vince, I had ascertained the room held no other patrons or guests. “Miss Evee’,” He greeted my persona, as he normally would in case I was working, leaving me free to tell, some, all or nothing. “Allow me to offer my heartiest congratulations to you and your fellow, lass.” “I’m not sure I like that look in his eyes.” I thought to myself. Yes, I am working, but that look tells me, he thinks I am here to swindle Luke out of whatever a man like him may possess. The guise is working as I intended, thinking me naught but an opportunistic young lady of questionable morals. He’s seen my usual victims, usually a little more well-to-do so the fact he thinks I’ve stooped so low as to claim marriage to an oaf like Lucretius really hurts my pride as Evee’. “Is the back room on the upper-floor free Vince?” I ask. “It is Miss Evee’” he replied but he knew I always wanted more. “All the ground floor rooms are filled,” he began. Those rooms were the least expensive so I can expect many gentlefolk to be around after sunrise. “One room occupied only on the upper, some pretentious little fellow, in the room at the front. He paid his half-shilling so I’ll not think ill-tidings of him.” Judging there was nothing untoward a ’foot, I asked, “Would obtaining two plates be possible, one a large portion of whatever you can if you please and would a couple tankards of ale be possible?” “Aye Miss Evee’, a fine hearty meat-broth made this very day and is still warm. Two, aye, one a large serving and two tankards, brought to the room?” Vince asked. “As soon as possible If you would and afterwards, could you see that we are not disturbed,” I wink dramatically at the man maintaining the impression my sexual-prowess will yield which I desire, slide five shillings across the bar-top then turning away, quickly ascend the stairs. Tart that Evee’ may appear to be, she was a good-natured one and shared her bounty with those whom Evee’ considered helped her quest for a life better than that of a wandering tavern trollop. Attempting to squeeze past Lucretius in narrow hallway proved fruitless so after pushing him to the end of the hall, I was able to get the door to our room open. “And where would yerself wish the chattels, Evee’?” “That’s twice,” I exclaimed to no one but myself, that being only the second time Lucretius had spoken first. I also did not fail to notice that not once had he slipped up, calling Evee’, M’lady. “Yes, that would be just fine, Lucretius.” I mentioned in a soft voice but thought. ‘This may just work out well for both of us’. The room was spacious for a typical roadside inn, a large strong bed against the back wall, a solid if not quality timber table showing signs of much use, four sturdy chairs, an armchair in a red plait fabric, a tall dresser with a mirror, a saddle stand, a window over-looking the stables and another overlooking the road to the west. I had used this room before and always asked for it. Being the only room with a small balcony, it was priced higher the other rooms but I considered the benefits worth the additional expense. Two windows gave escape options, either to horse or to the forest behind the inn. The long hallway approach to the door gave time to prepare a course of action, deceive, fight or flee. But in my eyes, as fortuitous as it is to possess so many useful attractions in a simple accommodation choice, none offered greater attraction in my eyes than the big iron bathtub standing unfilled in the corner. I would be taking advantage of this simple luxury before departure, even if I had to have Luke guard the door with blade drawn. “The saddle-stand for my bags, Lucretius. You may use the bed.” “Evee’, I’m curious, that I will not deny.” Lucretius said while depositing our baggage. “I know more than a highway brigand is involved, aye?” He asked with one brow raised. I was never of a mind to judge people on a notion, preferring to let themselves by word and deed do so of their own accord and thus set their own level. I see now, his sleepy dullard manner, no more than a guise and not dissimilar to my own varied manners and appearances. A keen mind does indeed lurk within the big oaf. More and more, I am convinced, the initial idea to make the offer was sound and time and contact is proving it an astute judgement. A mercenary makes war his living and is paid to do so. Mostly peaceful times are hard on men like these. Peaceful times bring prosperity to the wealthy and despair to the warlike and thus, brigands and cutthroats abound. Complain I do not for this increase aids Aleese by concealing her in their increased presence. Glancing at the big man, a knowing look on my face, I answered his question as well as was needed for now.
Cont'd “Yes there is far more than meets the eye. Some, I can tell now, but more will become known to you in time. I regret the need to keep details from you but, as you will learn, there is far more at stake than I can mention at present.” Lucretius’ nod told me that what I had said was acceptable. He sat on the bed and began untying his bundle, two ties undone, a folded flap opened and to my incredulous eyes there came a sight I had long believed vanished from the ranks of civilised men, a huge double-sided battle-axe polished to a lustre approaching that of my fine sword resides within. The other hide-wrapped handle belonged to a short, thick, long handled sword, double clip-pointed that far better resembled a butchers’ tool. Its two-handed grip very similar in style to the short-sword-like dagger he wore on his belt. The last and plain handle proved to be a short stout digging spade. Looking at Luke’s expressionless face, I was wondering if he was curious what I would think of seeing this tradesman of war’s tools. My mind had an image of Lucretius, mighty axe in one hand, gleaming broadsword in the other, denying passage to all and sundry in some mythical and heroic last stand, “He certainly looks the part,” I mused softly to myself as he continued unpacking. The thick leather laces holding the rest of his chatels tied came free and with a flick and Luke unrolled a sleeping bundle across the bed. Tarpaulin wrapped to keep it dry, the bundle contained a thick homespun blanket, folded double, a large leather water jerkin, several items of clothing, all rather soiled I might add, a short length of stout cord, a small rectangular leather pouch I recognised as holding his whetstone, another leather flat buckled leather case and a small metal box with a hinged lid. A knock at the door saw me react sharply, hand making a brief movement towards the waist-band of my skirt where my dagger resides. “Evee’,” Vince’s voice sounded through the stout door. On opening the door cautiously, I beckoned him and the tray he carried inside, indicating the table as being where I wanted food and ale put. Briefly, Vince’s eyes rested on my ‘groom’ but he quickly set about placing plates and tankards on the table, obviously wishing to depart quickly and get out of my ‘husband’s’ presence. With Vince gone and door locked once more, I lifted one of the tankards, indicated Lucretius should take the other and on raising it towards him, offered a toast, “to chance encounters.” Raising his pewter mug, we touched ales together. ‘Evee’ and Aleese’ drank a few mouthfuls, far different to the gusto that Lucretius displayed emptying half the tankard and placing it with a comradely thump on the table when done, indicating ale and Lucretius were not strangers and were comfortable in each other’s presence. “Come Lucretius, sit with me and we will talk after the repast.” I indicated the chair opposite where I now sat. Though not hot as if fresh-cooked, the meat and vegetable broth were of sufficient residual warmth that the meal was enjoyable. With meal complete, I opened the door, placed the utensils on the floor then closed and relocked it. Turning to face him once more, I see he has begun the task of doffing his mail and armour, his expression, apparently unchanged with the consumption hearty meal complete. “Was he to smile, I think the shock would be greater.” I mused to myself with some inner humour. The fact he had was wearing the same expression as when we first met, I’d become accustomed to it as just part of the overall image I had of him. Lifting a huge arm, he began working on the leather buckles holding it secure about his torso. I watched his partially-successful but painfully slow attempts to free himself of his metal suit until I could stand it no longer. “Dawn will be upon us before you get them undone.” I spoke, feigned impatience in my tone. “May I help?” “I’d be grateful Evee’, aye. T‘is a trial at times.” He nod was sincere so while he began on the over-shoulder straps, I undid the ones about his torso. Leaving one shoulder strap buckled, Lucretius slipped the armour off one shoulder and stood it next to the wall out of the way. Taking the front piece’s dented, scratched and scarred weight briefly while he ensured it did not snag on the mail while being removed, I was rather shocked to feel how heavy it was. Considering the back piece was larger again, two heavy half-cup shaped shoulder protectors taken into account as well, I doubted I could have walked fifty paces wearing it, not that it would fit me. “Well,” I thought. “That’s one layer off and he still looks no smaller.” The thoughtful ‘me’ observed. “Allow me,” I offered, reaching for the laces on the mail. Every time before in my sweet young life I had been in a similar situation, that of assisting a man to undress in a room with a bed, I’d be suffering questing hands on neck, breast and between legs and buttocks. Standing this close, almost intimately close with Lucretius, I’m testing him. I am aware what is at stake should this brute lose control but part of me is drawn to his sheer and impressive masculinity. Males of the type I target are also men, almost none I have ever considered to be beyond my ability to deal with. My active lifestyle, far removed from anything considered ‘proper’ for a young lady of breeding and culture has put unseen strength in my lithe frame, Dance has strengthened my long legs and given wind and stamina few age peers could match. “I would be a helpless ragdoll in this giant’s powerful hands,” I suddenly thought, increasingly aware of a faint familiar sensation growing deep in my loins. “His control is excellent,” I mused. “The same possession of control cannot be said of me, it would seem.” I admitted to myself in a brief burst of honest reflection. Ever since I first embarked on this quest for revenge and restoration of family honour, before the age of suitors calling even, I had sought men for what they could provide me to assist on this quest. I have never had time for amorous Beaus and the niceties of courting, nor do picnics in the glens or boating on the lake offer interest and moonlight sulky rides are usually done fleeing some riled recipient of my self-interested ways. The ways of men had been learned, well too I might add. Priding myself on the fact, so far in my inglorious career, not one has managed to resist my charms when I set my mind on seduction. I had also learned my own body, able to appear aroused but mind racing to conclusions and not really aware on the man whose presence was intimately touching my body. It was an ability I had learned in very short time from working harlots during the early years when I first started this venture. The finest brothels and bordellos had no qualms hiring a girl of my attractive appearance and time spent in the company of the painted harlots had given me keen insights and the mental strength needed to ignore the unpleasant present and stay focused on future. This low ability adding yet another powerful weapon to my already impressive arsenal and I had never been reluctant to use it. Using both hands, I was able to deposit his chain-mail beside the armour and for a moment I considered the weight of armour and mail, thinking of the fact that he most likely had been wearing it all day. Even the thick padded leather jerkin worn beneath mail to absorb blows and prevent chaffing was as heavy as a dressage saddle. Add to this, his thick belt, the short heavy blade on his right hip and the huge sword he wore on his left, the total weight would be in excess of my own body-weight. More and more, the power of this big man has impressed my inner woman and this reaction to his imposing presence, some primal urge. Handsome by no means, rough-shaven, a few scars visible, skin worn tough through the elements and adversity, his appearance is not what calls to my soul. Never before have I sought pleasure for me for the sake of me. Always there existed an ulterior motive in my sensual pursuits. I am strong enough mentally to cope. What I am having trouble coping with is, the unconscious reaction my body is displaying towards this giant of a man. “By the stars,” the silent curse flashed unbidden as awareness flooded my mind. “My nipples are erect and that warm feeling between my legs is present.” “Lucretius,” I began, continuing when those hard eyes looked into mine at the mention of his name “you gained a glimpse into my world and my life when you galloped past me and stood against my pursuers at the midnight hour. You have not asked why as yet. For that, I am both grateful and puzzled.” Even when composing his thoughts to reply, the rarely changing expression on his face that at first glance did not appear to alter a whit, and in fact, to the casual observer would be hard-pressed to notice any change at all, it did appear to soften. ‘Less grim,’ was the most accurate description I could find. Holding up my hand to silence him before he could speak, I continued. “You could not know why I was being pursued yet you did come to my aid and for that, I am grateful.” Being honest when in the company of an almost strange man was not something I had ever done much of in my past. My normal was that by this stage of any association, I was usually lying fit to raise the Devil. “Watching you despatch those soldiers, I sensed that fate or destiny or whatever one calls fortuitous circumstances, had cast opportunity in the path of both our lives.”
I was beginning to learn the various expression changes, small that they may be, that indicated Luke’s changes in mood and outlook. The current version of ‘grim’ was his thoughtful mien. I had seen him laugh but even when displaying that hearty mood, the overall impression was still one of darkness and gloom. “What horrors and ghastly views had those eyes beheld?” I wondered. It was true that my dainty hands had spilt blood and taken life, death and murder holding no aversion to me. Watching a man’s life force flee as I look into rheumy eyes glazing with fast-approaching death stirred my soul not at all. “A battle-field and all its horrors, although unseen by my eyes, the image I hold in my mind as I try to imagine the aftermath of terrible conflict will never give substance to the reality. ‘How many battle-fields have your eyes seen, Lucretius?’ I pondered briefly before continuing. “As you now know, guise is a tool of my chosen calling. A highwayman or ‘woman’ can remain at large, free to plunder and rob if his or her identity remains unknown. The same is true for this highway-woman.” I watched understanding arrive slowly on his face. “Lady Aleese is one such as I describe.” There, I had laid a partial truth before him. “He’ll take one of three actions,” my mind fast-decided. “Yes, a brigand is what Aleese is and aye, she has, at times committed murder.” The first action a forthright and upstanding citizen might take would be to hand me over to the King’s justice. “Believe me when I say, I never wish harm or hurt on those Aleese would confront in pursuit of her larcenous ways.” Truthful as that statement may be, it is still a lie of sorts due to being a partial truth only. “The guise I now wear like a shield, that which Evee’, uses,” how to say this without giving the impression the words he was hearing are not the words of an opportunistic low-moral trollop became suddenly very important. “Her weapons are of a less fatal nature.” Lifting and jiggling my breasts then allowing those same hands to trace a sensual path down my sides, over alluring hips to finish cupping the mound of my womanhood, a lust-fuelled expression arriving on my face as I had trained myself to do so over long years of necessity. “Evee’ is equally larcenous, preferring feminine attributes over blade and mask when in pursuit of her desires.” The second choice possible that I can visualise would see those oh-so-strong hands bear me down, to take what Evee’ so freely offered to those she sought gain from. Only acquiescence and submission on my part would eliminate the need for the word ‘rape’ to be used should that second possible action be the best way to describe that eventuality. It had been tried before with, to date at least, no success. A concealed, bodkin or dirk, a well-placed blow from a dancer’s knee and more were the only things that prevented such an occurrence in times past. Of my future, should Lucretius harbour similar lusts, my fate was already pre-ordained. I held absolutely zero confidence in my ability to prevent any untoward advance by him. The power and strength of the man would make any attempt one of futility and hopelessness. “What you think of me in either guise, be it complimentary at my determination and resourcefulness or derogatory at using my given gifts, is of no concern at present.” I again cupped and jiggled my breasts leaving no doubt which gifts I was referring to. “I use what gifts I have to support a higher goal. I will offer no evidence to support this statement at this time. Too much is at stake should you refuse the forthcoming offer for me to even consider an explanation at this early stage of what I am hoping will become a long and mutually beneficial arrangement.” On a whim, seeing his expression of what was either curiosity or dis-belief briefly swim across his rugged face, some small proof was required. Standing and turning, I reached for my saddle-bags and deposited them on the table between us. “As you can see,” I began, demonstrating and displaying the secret nature of my luggage. “As you can plainly see, there is deliberate purpose in its construction. What I do is no idle fancy of a woman with larcenous intent and low esteem and how I do what I do is done with determined attitude and premeditated intent.” Watching his large hands touching and examining the contents, I believe his interest is there, albeit well-hidden within his stern visage. “Oft times, chances of prime opportunity have been regrettably passed by due to what I deem, an unnecessary risk to myself and my goals. With a good man at my back, a protector if you prefer, many of these opportunities I once let pass would become viable by reducing the risk to myself and cause I serve due to the able backing of one such as you.” I left him with his thoughts and by watching his face and eyes closely, I slowly became aware that the particular version of his stoic expression that came to rest in his eyes became that of, if not approval of Aleese’s and Evee’s actions, one of growing interest. Strangely, he seemed about to speak but paused, obviously composing his thoughts. “I see some truth in what yerself says. Whence I first sighted yer plight, I knew that more than was obvious was occurring. Mounted and at the gallop, turning in a heartbeat to lose your shafts with unerring accuracy has required many hours of practice. Equestrian skill as yerself possesses is something these eyes have encountered in times past. Officers and titled nobility I have served with and under on many occasions in my long and inglorious career display similar talent. Though as skilled as the moneyed gentry’s tutors may have taught them, few have I seen to match the skill,” and in a surprising move, his hands indicated a quotation of sorts, “‘Aleese’ displayed in that darkened fen before my eyes. I found meself wondering how that could be and the flame of curiosity sprang to life. As I saw it, for that curiosity to be answered, only a living person could give me the answers. “So I drew blade and charged and yerself knows the rest. “Might I say, I am extremely glad you did so.” My smile of sincere gratitude softened even further his dour expression. “At this stage, I am prepared to tell you some of what may and most likely will be a look at the future. Everything that Aleese and Evee’ do is aimed at supporting a higher goal. The larceny, whether done at the point of a sword or in M’lady’s boudoir is done solely to support a greater need than that of personal gain.” Luke’s hardened expression told me I must quickly explain myself. “Treason is abhorrent to me as well, Lucretius. I am a loyal daughter of the crown, despite the fact I was being pursued by the King’s men, the reason why was just and righteous. The King buys up debtors chits from money lenders, not for financial gain, but to exert pressure on people to support his political agenda. Aleese went to recover those chits but either her information was faulty, or it was simply a case of poor timing, Aleese failed and was discovered as she exited the Manor: the pursuit you interrupted.”
Lucretius slowly looked down at the floor near his feet, as if composing his thoughts. “A King’s Soldier does as the crown bids. He serves his due, does the King’s work, sleeps in his barracks and his comrades share his life. The mercenary’s life differs greatly in some regards, less so in others. Mercenaries follow the wars. Many a mile of dusty road is travelled in search of war and conflict. Sleeping in the snow, in fields swept with cold rain, penniless most times and never in one place for any amount of time, such is a soldier’s due. Comrades who stand at your side one year may not be seen for years. Battles claim a share and oft times, we know not of their fates.” Raising his head, his expression held eyes, gazing off into some unseen distance. I knew he was reminiscing as memories filled his mind. “From all over they come, from every station in life from tinker to lord. Many are their reasons, the blacksmith who had fought at times for village and hearth, tiring of the same surrounds, takes up a sword and joins a mercenary company. The soldier, service due completed, misses the life and joins a company of mercenaries.” I realised he was leading up to something so I remained quiet and watched the procession of emotions pass before his far-seeing eyes. “We called him Jim and a stout fellow he was. His blade was as sharp as his wit. I met him when we fought together in one of the clan wars. Courageous was he, a man you could depend on when the swords clashed and blood was spilled. As mercenaries do, with the strife ended, our paths took different turns.” Again he paused, longer this time as if composing his thoughts. “I can see that, Lucretius.” I replied, not really sure where this was leading. Lucretius remained thoughtful a while before continuing his tale. “I met up with him again up north in that Rothbury dispute. We talked as old comrades do. Standing in battle, his courage was undaunted and he proved a man to be reckoned with. Good as he was afoot, give him a horse and a stout English fir lance, he would charge the Devil -” My mouth sagged open on hearing those familiar words and almost unbidden, I found myself speaking. “through the flames of hell.” Surely not, I found myself thinking. “Lord Gwayne of the Glen,” I said and waited Luke’s reply. “Aye, that was the name he gave. I remember Jim saying, ‘arranged marriage don’t you know. With the choice of life with a dreary sow, what chance a quick and glorious death with companions, eh?” My surprise must have sent my eyes open wide when he completed his sentence in perfect upper class twang. His mouth lifted into an almost smile and he looked me in the eye. “You damned oaf,” I barked almost indignantly, “you do have hidden mirth within.” I also set that fact in my mind. Pater will be pleased to know of his fate. I knew the truth and it was no arranged marriage, but circumstances similar to my own but without the death that set his course. After a brief pause, he continued. “Lying on wet grass in the pre-dawn, awaiting the sun for a clash of arms, he regaled up with tales of fine houses and a privileged life. I’d fought battles in fine houses so understood him when he talked of the splendour. He talked of regal carriages, bedecked with gilded finery, wood shining and brass polished to reflect the light. I knew about those too. A figure approaching two score would be the number I have burned and wrecked in my time.” I sat listening, wondering where this was leading, a little apprehensively I might add. “He and I shared a sentry-go up north last year and as comrades will, with the loom of death coming with the dawn, we talked as soldiers do. I remember one tale, about a woman, the kind of woman soldiers dream about when lying, cold and hungry in the snow. Let’s see: face like an angel, hair the colour of fresh-minted gold, eyes a man could lose his soul in.” Lucretius paused again and looked at me quizzically. “Long of leg, dressed in all black, as handy with a blade as any man, the Lady Aleese.” I Remembered Gwayne very well. Learning of the plan to convert debts into foreclosures, Aleese headed for the Glen. “Lucretius, I tried to help Lord Gwayne. I was there the first time the process men came. Gwayne and I jumped into bed, and the scandal held up the process-serving for a time. Aleese left in the night on a desperate flight to get help. I returned to find the manor wrecked, and the property foreclosed. Of Gwayne, we thought him murdered.” “Such was his version as well.” His reply eased his grim expression, his whole manner had softened and I knew why it had: he believed me. The look also held something else, a faint hint of disbelief perhaps. “Lucretius, Aleese and Evee’ both do what they must towards a greater cause. They are not the only ones either. Residing in the left-hand saddle bag is Ann, but you will meet her another time when circumstances decree. There are three others, but for everyone’s safety and protection, I think it best to await a future time for introductions. Many would look down on some of our exploits as immoral but when I see what others do, destroying lives and property, committing murder and trampling rough-shod over any who stand against their agenda, I ask you, where is the immorality?” I could see Luke was taking in what I was saying and decided to lay my hand on the table. “You now know some of what I do, and why I do it. Oft times, Aleese, Evee’ or Ann have had to let prime opportunity slip by, deeming the risk greater than potential reward. I would rather remain cautious and offer small help to many rather than take an unacceptable risk and help no one due to failure. Many are the times when with the help of someone to protect my back, greater chances of decisive intervention would have opened up. Your sudden appearance when peril was threatening reminded me of this fact.” There was little more I could say and for that matter, little more I wanted to say. It was time to see if agreement could be found. Now I had seen a few variations of Luke’s grim façade, slowly I was beginning to understand, he was neither stoic nor grim and he had a keen mind and subtle sense of humour. I was warming to this big fearful warrior. “Aye, as it is done in war, so it seems the strategy is valid elsewhere as well.” Luke’s understanding was growing and I was sure curiosity was what made him want to know more. “I have told you a little of what Aleese, Evee’ and Ann do in pursuit of honour and justice. So much would be possible with a good companion at my back. A companion could guard a gate while Aleese enters premises with stealth. Time may see that companion holding reins, ladders and grapple. Events will present time when skill with weapons and a stout heart will serve better the cause. With what you now know, I make this offer.” Taking a deep breath to steel myself, it was time to seek agreement or refusal. “Lucretius, some may look at the arrangement I will offer, should we find accord of course, as that of a guard or protector. I promise you, a companion and friend will be of greater use to both my cause and myself. You are cautious, yet bold and these are both traits I admire. My cause also needs someone able to think on their feet, often without guidance or plan to aid making a wise decision. I harbour no delusions as to my fate should any untoward events occur. I have no wish for my encore dance to be at the hangman’s pleasure. A similar fate awaits any who would aid me. I say this now so I know that you understand what is at stake. This arrangement is one I have long desired, but had never been able to spare time of effort in the pursuit of finding this companion. Name your price, and if within my means to pay, then done. If this acceptable to you, then I offer my sincere hand. Do we have an accord?”
For a long minute, Luke stood watching me. I saw the beginnings of a smile forming at the corners of his mouth and I thought of the three possible outcomes I considered earlier. Firstly, a forthright and upstanding citizen might seek favour and offer myself up to the King’s men. “M’lady, for twenty years I have tramped the dusty roads to war. Fifteen I was when I bloodied my first blade. A bed of snow, frosty fields or rocky creek-beds and more are a soldier’s lot. Most times penniless, cold, tired, hungry and wet are companions I know well. I will tell you my price: more hot meals than cold, more warm beds than dew-covered fields and new rags to replace these ‘his hand pinched his incredibly soiled, holed and torn undershirt away from his chest as he spoke, “whence the rot makes further use impossible or renders them fit for no more than rags.” I could see he hadn’t finished so I waited for what I assumed would be his monetary remuneration. In this speculation, I was about to be surprised once more. “Be the choice, march the mercenary’s path, accepting that which all who serve must suffer, or accompany a beautiful lady on errands of greater good, there is little choice to be made. I seek no gold, a few shillings perchance when times permit will suffice.” Finally, he proved his dour mien was no more than a guise he donned as needed, not dissimilar to my tools of trade and Lucretius smiled, the hearty smile of a big man with a better future looming ahead. “Be that acceptable to M’lady, then an accord it is that we have.” My smile was equally warm for this big oaf and I extended a hand, “accord?” His big scar-covered, weather-worn and calloused hand enveloped my own and he replied, “accord!” It was done. Now it was time to build a companionship with the man. “Lucretius,” I began, hand rising to grip my blouse. “Times will come when I must depend utterly on you,” I began, lifting my blouse over my head and cast it to the floor. Before continuing, my hand pulled the tie holding my gay peasant skirt and the thought I was placing the second option a man might choose before him stood starkly in my imagination. “The timely arrival of an enraged husband,” I spoke as my skirt dropped to the floor and I stepped out of it, kicking it aside as I did so. “Especially when one of your imposing presence may well be all that stands between the gaining of that which we sought and failure,” my hands now began undoing bodice laces, “and having to forsake an opportunity when times and circumstances deem it necessary but with unacceptable risk forcing me to let the chance pass by.” My bodice joined the skirt and blouse on the floor leaving bare breasts full in his view. “Many times I have deemed the risk, and as willing as I am to take a chance for a favourable outcome, unacceptable.” With a sensual wiggle of my hips, the bloomers, draw string now undone slipped to the floor with me again stepping clear of the last garment I wore. “I have no wish that first sight of me may cause hesitation, hesitation that could prove detrimental to self and cause.” I harbour no doubts about my inability to defend myself should Lucretius decide having me, the better option than gainful employ. “I want you to see what you will face, often in times ahead that you must see to complete a swindle or deception.” I did a slow turn, a dancer’s turn, arms held high so Lucretius would become accustomed to that which time and circumstances may present. As no strong hands reached for me and no look of wanton lust filled his eyes, I had to assume, raping me right here and right now was not in his immediate plans. I know I am considered highly desirable as past successes have proved. ‘Legs long and slender, hair the colour of the King’s gold and the face of an angel,’ I recalled Luke’s telling of Gyawne’s encounter with Lady Aleese. It was time to push Luke to his limit and determine whether I had misjudged his stoic-appearing control. Moving to kneel before him, I began undoing the stout leather laces holding the wrap-around upper portions of his footwear. Unable to prevent the thought entering my head at being in a not too unfamiliar position, for the briefest of moments, my eyes shifted to the big man’s groin. “Everything about Lucretius was on a grander scale.” I thought, tugging his badly scuffed, bad smelling footwear from his left foot before commencing on the right. “Big man,” I mused, “big frame, big hands for wielding large weapons,” and there it was, a question, sprung sharply into my feminine curiosity. “By sight or by action, Evee’ will soon enough know if every weapon in his arsenal was of a similar grand scale, sword, axe, horse or man.” I almost laughed because for the first time in my living memory, I was actually curious about the man I was with save for my very first intimate dalliance and I found myself not exactly concentrating on staying focused on the reason I was with him. The woman inside was responding to the sheer presence and masculinity of this giant man. It was also unfamiliar territory to this woman that I am. My way was to give just enough ‘encouragement’ to the recipient of my wiles that the ‘becoming-more-desperate-by-the-minute’ urgings to want more and more was my post powerful weapon, one that until now had never failed to present to me that which my heart desired most. “Good will power,” That thought was good to know, but it hurt my very own pride a bit too. The effort of removing the last of his foot wear saw me stumble back, discarding his boot and ending up sitting, knees up and reclining with my hands on the floor behind me. ‘If this doesn’t move him, then I’ve found the perfect man but will have to set the score at five verses one, favour to the impressively unmoveable oaf.’ I thought, working every sensual muscle, crossing and uncrossing legs, hands caressing stomach and breasts. His eyes were narrowing and I was disoriented for a moment trying to decide if this was an asset or a liability. Holding eye contact, with a deliberate move, Lucretius undid the drawstring on the leathern jerkins and slowly eased them down past his hips where they promptly fell to the floor. If I took a darker view, he, the cat and me, the mouse, unharmed, but with nowhere to go, His big brawny arms crossed and that rag he called and undershirt dragged its grubby way up and over his head. Sitting the way I was, it appeared as the north tower from Dover castles’ battlements confronted me now. My heart was racing. I suddenly realised in a glorious revelation of inspiration, the reason, that I had always believed drove me was a quest for revenge first and foremost but a thirst for excitement, adventure to stand as tall as any man in the kingdom
‘You realise you’ve been fooling yourself for a long time, ever since that first theft of mail from an open box until now, don’t you?’ I admonished myself with that thought. Never before had understanding the reason that for every positive, ignoble, courageous, righteous and commendable action, the reason those good traits exist is they are required was to combat or counter a foes with few or no scruples. “Fear is my excitement.” I’m sitting here, stark naked, kneeling at the feet of an almighty man, my palms are sweaty, my breath is coming in soft pants and I realise, I am just about as aroused as I have ever been in my sweet inglorious life. ‘Did I choose him because he was scaring me and hopefully could do so again in the future?’ I’m ask myself, cutting my own heart out here, bleeding my dark desire out before my very own eyes. Fate has deemed me cocky and sent what might possibly the human representation in what an accurate portrayal of guard to the gates of hell would resemble. Yet I remained immobile, and knew I could move if I so desired. Was I testing my courage? Was I courageously awaiting the inevitable, like as would do a believing supplicant, being sacrificed to the mountain gods? I closed my eyes. ‘Aren’t sacrifices supposed to be virgins?’ The thought flittered across my mind then this amusing thought suddenly followed. ‘It would appear to be a bit late to think of that now.’ I chided myself as a last coherent thought I would know for quite a while. “It’s here, ahh..” my almost silent gasp mouthed the rush of emotion as the climax rippled faintly from deep inside, pushing out, fluttering, contracting evolving into spring, then fall then something, darker, from earth deep and evolving finally into a mind-numbingly base and primal peak of sensations. In an explosive snort, air, forced from tortured lungs beyond endurance finally exploding in an agonised lingering moan. Writhing as if tied, straining, there is no here, there is no now. All there is more exquisite pleasure than I have experienced, and secondly, he hadn’t laid a finger on me yet. His sheer gigantic, masculine, unknown, threatening presence without even touching me had just sent my soul to a place I had never been before. I may own his loyalty but as surely the sun will rise in the morning, he now owns my soul. Somewhere during the ‘excitement’ shall we say, I became aware I was lying on my side, knees drawn up and wrapped tightly with my arms, sweat-matted hair stuck all over my face. The ability to do something with that conscious thought came a little later. With a slow roll of recognition so Lucretius did not have to look at my legs, covered with slippery and sticky tendrils coating thighs, legs and groin and that I rolled because I just realised was still leaking slowly from my womanhood. A little later in the awareness recovery process, I realised, my head was on a pillow. “How did a pillow get here?” seemed to be a pressing question for a time but I decided to stop thinking at all and just enjoy the ride: but the road home from euphoria is a slow process. Sometime during that, I fell asleep. “Mmmmm,” I moaned as I felt sleep retreating. I feel so deliciously wonderful as wakefulness slowly returns, stretching, full length, from my toes to finger tips all feel so alive and sensitive. ‘I’m in the bed,’ I suddenly realise. ‘How’d I get in the bed?’ This being an obvious follow-up thought, is it not? Slowly, I ease one eye open, just a tiny peek, and realise its daylight, so I’m squinting. Being under bedcovers is a normal thing for me so it took me a while to realise I was clutching a home-spun blanket up under my chin, ‘How’d I get in the bed?’ That question keeps popping back into my head with annoying regularity. The best way to make it stop is get some answers. Opening two eyes took an effort and as soon as the blur faded, I could see the end of the room opposite the door. Saddle bags, weapons, a pile of ‘my clothes’, Lucretius’ roll, but no Lucretius asleep in it. With a start, my hand crept slowly behind me, inching across the bed until I confirmed I was not sharing the bed with him. I wasn’t. Rolling slowly over I became aware of a shape between where I lay and the door. His eyes found mine. Sitting in a chair, back to the door, drawn sword across his thighs, bare-chested and bare-footed, no woman ever slept more safely than I did that night. The sight of his big bare feet did it. The memory of the night just gone flashed into my mind. ‘This is going to be awkward.’ For once it wasn’t my fault but that was the first thought that came to my mind and I waited to see his reaction. For a long time, we held eye contact as if appraising the right moment to break the tense silence. Slowly, Lucretius rose to stand then with slow strides, came to the bed and sat down on the edge as gently as his big frame would allow. Again our eyes met then one of those huge hands reached out and softly caressed the side of my face. My eyes closed and I felt myself nestling against that big hand, a feeling within of security and bliss. Besides that, I wasn’t yet ready to say anything at all. Lucretius broke the silence, his low baritone soothing and mellow. “Yer’ve been alone a long time, haven’t yer lass?” Another deep truth, that’s two in a single day. I looked up and saw Lucretius looking down at me as if I was an injured fawn. “Well little one, yer are not alone any longer.” Sitting up, draping an arm across his hard-muscled thigh, I snuggled into his broad chest. Luke’s big brawny arm came to rest on my back, gently pulling me close.
Much consulting with females was done to compile that chapter. You damn females are a complex mob, and that's no lie.
10,000 words is better than a photo.. Chapter 3. To the Manor Return Luxuriating in the reasonably warm bath, a warmer feeling was coming from within. Between the midnight hour and this noontime, change has come charging into my life in the form not even a Gypsy’s crystal could have predicted. “Can it be just twelve hours?” It was the third time I had asked myself that same question since Lucretius, lifted me from the bed, carried me to the bath, filled shortly before I awoke obviously and lowered my naked form into the water. ‘So, this changes nothing.’ I was going to force myself back to where there was equilibrium. ‘Is it true then?’ I pondered ‘Is that why I take liberties with life, the inherent risk? Can fear fuel one’s passions?’ It would appear that equilibrium will take a little longer to achieve than first anticipated. I had oft heard mention, when people spoke of love, as to the losing of one’s mind. I had scoffed the idea as whimsical to titillate the ladies of puritan views, ‘Well, you cannot scoff at that idea any more, in spite of love’s lack of a presence, I did indeed lose my mind.’ I can still feel it, very faint, but touching every part of me now that the sensation also touched at its peak, only with great gentleness and the feeling is languorous. I have the room to myself. I still don’t know how he filled the bath without waking me. I usually sleep lightly as if my life depended on it, which it often did. A thousand thoughts are a maelstrom in my mind at times. But the one furthest from any answer remains after I wantonly offered myself, ‘He did nothing but care for me, why?’ “Did I want him or the fearsome menace he offered?” I’ve never been as utterly helpless and defenceless as I was last night. He could have done whatever he desired, and provided I survived the ordeal, I would have still honoured the accord we have. “That was it!” I exclaimed out loud. ‘He valued the position of companion over the possession of the woman who offered it.’ I readily convinced myself of this notion. Perhaps the sight of my surrender didn’t excite him? He’s a veteran of many wars and I wonder how many women have prostrated themselves at his feet to beg mercy? He’s no refined gentry but I can see he has a sense of chivalry I would not have believed possible in a barbarian mercenary. “You had best be forgetting this unexpected distraction and begin concentrating on what lays ahead, young lady.” I admonished myself using my Father’s words attempting to give the words a compelling nature. Rising, I wiped the water off me and on stepping out of the bath, headed for my pile of clothes. As the familiar costume went on, so did Evee’ step to the fore and it was once again her who greeted Lucretius on his return. He had brought two more plates of the broth, a loaf of bread and two tankards. “I had the keeper make two plates, Evee’,” He mentioned, “Yer were sleeping soundly so I asked the keeper while I was getting the bath water. I’ve checked on the horses, fed and watered they are.” The big man informed me. ‘I could get used to this,’ I thought. “Thank you Lucretius. I want to,” this is going to take some courage, “thank you for not taking advantage of me.” “Thought yerself were testing me, I did.” Lucretius and this new, almost smiling face of his replied gently. At least with the old ‘grim’ face, I thought I was beginning to read his thoughts. This smiling expression, although a pleasant change from ‘grim’, has given me a new aspect of the man to consider. “Then when yerself fell over, I wasn’t sure what to do so I put yerself in the bed and kept watch, to make sure ye weren’t suffering a malady or some such thing.” Even now, just placing a meal on a table, his movements are slow and deliberate. We ate in silence, him breaking great chunks of bread to clean both our plates after the meals were finished. Then he sat back, looking at some far off place, obviously thinking while taking an occasional draft of his ale. The slight lift of the corners of his mouth whenever he glanced my way left me believing, he certainly knew it was no ‘malady’ that so overwhelmed me, ‘the damnable oaf.’ There was still a two day ride ahead to get where I had to be, and this leisurely morning had not helped with the timing. “I checked and fed the horses this morn and again just now when I brought the plates.” Lucretius repeated and added. “Talked to the keeper I did. He said King’s soldiers came last night.” I looked up with a start. “I heard them a’coming too, a small squad to be sure. The Officer talked with the keeper, asked who was here, but after a question or two, the keeper told the soldiers that no ladies on their own came in. I heard them ride off to the north. That was an hour before sunrise. Is that the way we’re going?” Lucretius wanted to know.” “Sadly, yes Lucretius. There are other options of travel but they take us too far out of our way and add a day to the journey.” Lucretius looked down at the floor between his feet for a moment before speaking again. “They could be up ahead then.” He mentioned, but I think he was more talking to himself than me. “It’s working already,” I thought suddenly. “If I had of been here as Evee’ alone, they might have wanted to know more.” Already I am becoming enamoured with this arrangement. “We’d best pack and get moving, Lucretius.” “Aye, I think that best.” He said but I knew there was more to come. “Evee’, when we get downstairs, there’s a few chaps,” he paused, gathering his thoughts I assumed. “These fellows think it was me.” He looked almost worried. “They think what was you?” I asked, puzzled. I could see him searching for words, this big sensitive brute of a man. “The noise, you called out fit to wake the dead.” He replied with such an earnest, even worrisome expression, I felt the soft glow of fast-pinkening cheeks. Suddenly, I knew what he meant. ‘I mean to say, look at him.’ I thought. I could imagine the woman who experienced Lucretius’ love would be quite loud in, if not her passions, reception.. He is a rather big example of a big man and I would imagine that he’s rather well-endowed everywhere. They think he was taking his bride’s virginity. “Oh Lucretius, I see. I am sorry to put you in this position.” “Think nary of it Evee’. I’ve had six tankards and a lot of hearty good wishes.”
“Six Tankards?” I blurted out. If I have just two, I’m staggering. Six plus one with breakfast, and he acts no different than he did last night. “Don’t worry Lucretius, I’ve seen enough new brides to know how act. I’ll be appropriately contrite.” ‘As if I had just experienced this big man’s lovemaking all night,’ I thought, rather too closely to the truth I might add. “I think we had best be on our way, instanter.” While Lucretius busied himself packing our chattels, I got ‘Evee’’ ready to go outside, adjusting wig and skirt just so until I was happy with her appearance. It was time to go. Lucretius again carried our belongings and I followed along meekly in his wake, as a suitably broken-in new bride would. Lucretius suffered a lot of back-slapping and knowing winks but gave the banter back as good as came at him. A couple of the patrons who had seen Evee’ here previously made bawdy jests, ‘tamed by a better man’, ‘bet she learned what it’s like to be a real woman’, ‘broken to the saddle’ and similar causing me to work hard to limit somewhat the blush of pink that rose unbidden on my cheeks yet again. I had my rear slapped a couple of times and a big beery ‘first to kiss the bride’ kiss that I accepted meekly and with a soft tolerant smile. Making the stables without further amorous interludes, Lucretius set about saddling the horses while I changed out of the peasant skirt into trousers, far more suitable for riding now the need to stay in character is lessened. Now suitably attired, I retrieve my bow, quiver and blade from their hiding place in the stable. The quiver hangs from my saddle under my left leg where it’s difficult to see but handy for drawing arrows fast if I need to do so. “Not that three arrows will be much help,” I muse to myself softly. My sword hangs on my left side in the burnished leather scabbard hanging dependant on my belt and I wear it sitting low on my hip for ease of withdrawal. On my right hangs a fine-leather sheath with a my much-trusted Swiss-steel poniard, a fine-pointed thrusting and parrying weapon with a grip that one would guess was made for my hand and a kiss-shaped guard, ‘the last kiss for a few.’ I muse as my hands caresses the hilt as if seeking its welcome security, which of course I do. My appearance is still that of Evee’, but my persona has reverted to ‘Aleese’ now that the need of guile and subterfuge at the inn is behind us. My blonde hair may have been seen as I exited the summer house or even while being pursued so Evee’s dark locks are ‘Aleese’s advantage. Mounted, we exit the grounds and head north. Normally, a poniard is a lightweight dagger employed in close quarter encounters but this one I carry was made heavier. The diamond-shaped cross-section of the blade being longer and sturdier, the weapon is fully able to parry a rapier slash. This tulip-hilted blade when viewed from the side resembled a woman’s lips, hence my fatal kiss. The traditional poniard featured an acute point and a continuously tapered blade, while my dagger features a straight-edged blade with a tapered point. It lacks the continual taper, but makes up for that lack with its strength and versatility. My hand often comes to rest on the comforting handle as I ride along. Like historical poniards, this dagger also features a straight crossbar guard from which the kiss-shaped moulding extends a short way down the blade proper. The highly-polished handle helped give the impression the poniard was more decorative than functional, a misbelief that had proved detrimental to a few who tried conclusions with one of my personas. Liam of Ashworth made my bow using the finest Welsh Yew, carefully dried for two years and then worked by this master Bowyer into shape, a process taking another year. As a girl of ten years, archery was naught but fun, playing and practising as the whims of children do. Increasing age, larger bows and my interest turned serious. I wanted to be as good as the best and I devoted much time in my pursuit of the skill-level I desired. Then when Liam presented this bow, I knew I now held one of the best examples this master craftsman had ever produced. Many more hours of practice were needed to learn to pull its heavy draw and all facets of archery with this powerful weapon. Though a little shorter than the traditional two yards, the shorter length aids its accurate use while mounted. It will kill at three-hundred yards and leave a metal-tipped arrow embedded four inches into oak at one-hundred. The armoured knight, considered to be the leviathan of the battlefield, would fall at ranges of up to two-hundred yards by my single arrow capable of piercing the finest armour and chain-mail worn beneath to lodge buried deep in the man within. Bowstrings, the more common types being hemp or flaxen in nature but I preferred silk strings. They offered a more silent discharge, were less affected if wet and a strength superior to the plant fibre versions. Whence the disaster came upon my family home and honour, so crushing all I knew as best in life and good, that passion to outshoot my male peers would turn towards a more deadly earnest cause. “Evee’,” rumbles from over my right shoulder. “Yes Lucretious.” He sounds serious so I look back and there is my old companion ‘grim’ returned to ride that annoying half-length behind once more. “Respects to yerself, but was I asked, me being a veteran of eight wars, a score of battles and more skirmishes than the kings army could rightly claim in a year, was I asked that is, I’d tell the asker, I should be riding up front.” Really! “Lucretius, I can never hope to pass you off as a manservant unless you travel where you are. That’s what servants do.” I informed the now even grimmer visage as it continued to darken while I spoke. “Again,” he huffed out in an exasperated tone. “Was I asked, I’d be saying pretending to be a servant won’t take two arrows, charge up a hill on foot to slay the archers and still be able to catch the damn horse,” another ingratiatingly long pause followed with, and I expected it, “with all due respect, M’lady.” Men can be so annoying when they make sense. “In this instance, I shall yield to your judgement, Lucretius.” I reply, attempting to do so with dignity. Had the King’s men at the inn entertained suspicions, they could-well be ahead. Making a violent scene in an inn might be considered one injustice, murder on a lonely road another but this latter was far more easily concealed. It was not unheard of for an encounter with some brigand with no regard or even with the King’s guards; even should it prove a case of mistaken identity, both victim and fugitive could well end up in the some nameless bog or lake. I am guilty of such encounters myself, well, one encounter to be precise. I had learned, some minions had been elevated to higher positions of rank and regard within His Majesty’s service using ruthlessness, cruelty and greed as stepping stones. Most were loyal, honest and forthright and will never need fear my blade’s kiss. The former care little who they trample as they seek fame or favour but of the latter, well until the time comes, there is little to differentiate between the two.
Lucretius’ left hand slowly rises a few inches off his leg, palm facing backwards and I’m instantly on alert. Almost without thought, my left hand slides across my mounts neck and around in an affectionate caress that is also a signal to my horse, flipping the leather thong holding my bow secure on the saddle. My hand glides to my leg, sliding towards and finally grasping my bow’s thick riser. Lucretius turns slowly towards me, “Evee’,” he grunts surprising me by remembering my current alias. “Kings troops ahead; I saw two holding of those devil-fire spitting muskets.” As surely as the seasons change, change was coming to man as well. Duelling had remained an accepted method of settling differences of honour or respect, up until recently done with blade. But with the increasing availability of newly-invented firearms becoming popular, rumour has it that a troop of the Kings Guards has been so musket-equipped. But the introduction of firearms were changing the odds in the game, to the point, a firearm in a household was an increasing trend. Slow to reload, four shots a minute being considered exceptional, whereas I can loose a dozen aimed shafts with my bow in the same time and at a similar range. I had the displeasure to see a man thus struck down at Gelway Prior in the fall of the year gone by, After seeing the result of a wound caused by shot from a flintlock, I could only think the whole thing quite ghastly. ‘Now you find yourself wondering if ‘Lady Aleese’ should consider a black-powder weapon to add to her arsenal,’ I mused softly under my breath. As Lucretius straightens up and faces the front, I can see he has his shield gripped by the rim firmly, ready to hoist it off the saddle where it hangs, to slide straight onto his big left arm. I still can’t see much past his giant form filling a large portion of my view ahead, Unseen or not, the danger is real and my body is reacting. My heart rate bumped up a few beats, senses sharpened and my skin began to tingle. Whether it’s a sixth-sense or some sort of gift/curse, I do not know, but I do know the danger exists and is not imagined. My right forefinger and thumb locate the fletched end of a sheaf in my quiver under my left leg. Slowly, my fingers locate bowstring and notch the arrow against it then if needed, the act of raising the bow to eye-level for the shot withdraws the arrow from the quiver in one fast motion. ‘TSS-Boom’ sounds ahead and an eerie ‘wovwovwov’ noise passes narrowly over my head. In a heartbeat, I raise the bow and with fletching touching my cheek, I aim for the lower half of the smoke cloud that suddenly appeared in front of the shrubbery ahead on the left and loose. I see the result of my fast-taken shot and a man previously concealed in the brush stumbled forward onto his knees with a groan. Lucretius has set spurs to work and is charging ahead, shield now secure on his left forearm and right hand holding his fearsome sword aloft. ‘TSS-Boom’, again that noise sounds but this time, excruciating pain hits my left side level with my breast. My breath is driven from me in an agonised gasp and the jolt almost unseats me as my horse sprang forward following the flighted arrow. Horsewoman’s instincts kept me in the saddle as my eyes cloud with spots and flashing lights and mind-numbing agony envelopes me. Only a supreme effort that ripped tears of pain from my eyes allowed me to clumsily draw another shaft and look with blurred vision in an attempt to shoot again. A wave of dizziness like to cause a swoon follows my efforts. Lucretius let out a bellow and charged right through a group emerging from the concealment of the undergrowth, He took a murderous stroke on his shield from a spear-pointed hauberk, the axe-head cutting-edge glancing off harmlessly. A half-heartbeat later, Lucretius delivered an almighty blow that opened a man up like a butchers’ carcass that painted his gleaming blade crimson for half its length. Again on his left, a man swung, this time a long-handled mace with wicked spear points covering its weighted end. Lucretius saw the threat, adjusted his shield but the mace, although doing no more than scraping his arm, tore his shield off his forearm in a smashing impact. I can no more than three-quarter draw the shaft, the knifing pain in my side beating my best efforts. This poorly-aimed shaft hit another of the hauberk wielders from behind in the upper thigh. Casting his long-handled weapon away, he dropped to the ground, clutching his leg, thrashing and screaming. I could feel blood running down my side and wetting my trouser tops. Then, with my left arm’s strength failing, tears in my eyes, my right hand fumbling to pull my sword while doubled over in agony and more pain than I could imagine knifing into me, a sight as will live in my memory until my dying day revealed itself to me. Lucretius had burst through the guards’ ranks and when twenty yards past, wheeled his big horse around and charged the foes once more. The left hand I thought simply holding his pack for balance in the rump-scraping turn revealed itself to be that he had extracted his fearsome battle-axe. He charged a line of five hauberk wielders with two swordsmen behind. At the last moment, his stallion wheeled right and that giant bear of a man left the saddle in a diving leap. His sword deflected the dangerous hauberk head away in an uncontrollable parry sending it smashing full in the face of the further most hauberk carrier on the left of the line. His axe delivered an almighty blow that folded the steel of one man’s sword around the axe-blade yet still retained enough power to drive the now-folded blade deep into the man’s own chest and smash him to the ground. His right-hand weapon drew next blood, dropping to his knee, Lucretius took the guards powerful hit on his axe-head and his broadsword laid open the man’s stomach almost to the spine in a whistling back-hand that sent ropes of the man’s entrails spilling. As close as the hauberk holders were due to the ten-foot length of the weapons, they posed no threat to Lucretius so he had removed the greater threats, the swordsmen.
“Heyaa,” I urged the gelding forward at the rush, finally managing to draw my sword with my still-good right arm. My left now hung down, barely having the strength to clutch the bow. I slashed the neck of the man who ignored the onrushing hoof-beats while Lucretius despatched the one who did turn and face me. Blow followed murderous blow until Lucretius remained the only man standing, blood-splattered and eyes blazing. He did likewise with the man who my arrow struck in the thigh, still moaning until Lucretius ended his pain with a sure thrust between the shoulder blades. With threat passed, I hunched forward, trying to ease the agony in my side while Luke vanished behind the bushes. An almighty crash sounded a moment later with Lucretius walking out from the shrubs, carrying two muskets which he threw on soft ground and chopped them in half with with two giant swings of his axe. Only then did he notice my blood-soaked shirt. “M’lady, you’re hurt,” he gasped, dropping his axe and moving quickly towards me, a look of deep concern washing across his face. “It would appear so,” I managed to grunt out in a very unladylike fashion. Holding up my right hand, it was covered in blood, my blood. I’d taken a few falls off horses over the years, skinned knees and elbows was the worst result, but this? Anger is setting in but so is a hint of fear. I’m angry because my mind has raced ahead and thinking of much time will be lost recovering from a wound. The fear is at concern that there is in fact an alternative to surviving a wound and another wave of dizziness almost unseats me. Remounting his stallion after dragging the dead out of sight and casting the pieces of the muskets and dropped weapons far into the brush, Lucretius takes up my dropped reins and says.” We’d best be gone from hereabouts, Evee’. I’d rather be ten miles hither than nearby when ten men’s bodies are found. Go,” he points off down the road. ”Do the best ye can and I’ll set the pace to match.” Nudging the gelding into motion, I accepted my reins from Luke as I passed and tapped flanks with my heels, setting off in a medium canter. With my head swimming and spots beginning to flash before my eyes, I was slumped forward almost lying on the gelding’s neck for balance. Grimly, I held on, totally unaware of the passage or either time or distance with the edges of consciousness closing in till I appeared to be looking into a tunnel, the circle of light getting smaller, and smaller. ****** “Evee’,” I am sure I should know what that means. “Evee’,” it repeats. My head is pounding like a big church bell. “Make it stop.” My mind demands but the painful reverberations continue unabated. As the fog of confusion begins to recede and wakefulness returns, the pain on my side turns to agony. “Evee’, are you awake lass?” the deep rumble in my pounding head wants to know. I feel a big rough hand caress my cheek and I squint and blink my eyes open. “Lucretius,” comes out on my mouth in a hoarse raspy whisper. “Rest easy, M’lady. We are safe here for now.” The increasing pain is making that simple statement difficult to understand. “Safe?” I gasp. “A musket ball creased your side and I think broke a rib.” Lucretius explains softly. ‘Broke a rib?’ I wonder. “A musket ball?” I manage to ask, expending what little energy I could summon to again speak. But just by asking the question, I felt the answer begin to form in my mind, the soldiers, the fight and the shocking realisation, that I had been wounded hit me like a thunderclap. My right hand made a move towards the pain, feeling whatever the material that was covering the source of my pain and the extent of the injury with gentle presses of my fingers. “This haven, t’is naught but an abandoned barn I stumbled upon. It lies beside a burned-out cottage, standing well off the road, behind an aspen grove and has offered sanctuary for a while.” Lucretius informs me. “A while?” I’m becoming aware that I must have a gap in my memory that unconsciousness would account for. “Aye, we rode the last mile with me holding you in the saddle. When you swooned, I carried yerself across me knees and saw the old gate. I walked the horses through and closed the gate, doing what I could to hide the marks of hooves. Sunset t’was almost upon us when I found this barn and I decided it would be best to lay yerself safe within. I cleaned the wound as best I could; using a compress remedy an old woman in Gaul showed me many winters ago.”
Resisting the pain with gritted teeth, I struggled up on my good elbow and began to examine my surroundings. I espy my blouse and trousers hanging on a stall rail. Glancing down, I confirm it. That’s twice I’ve been naked and helpless and twice Luke has cared for me. The soft light of an old lantern standing semi-concealed beneath old feed sacking is casting dim illumination about the barn’s shadowy interior. I can’t help thinking about my wound though. An impressive scar can become a story to lure a man to me but should my left breast be damaged, my appeal will decline somewhat. I can’t find the courage to ask because the answer may be too devastating to bear. “I used yer last arrow to down a sow. There be cooked flank cuts left or I can heat the broth.” It takes a minute for that to sink in as I’m exploring my wound fringes to ascertain the extent of the injury. ‘Caught, prepared, cooked, eaten and what remains cooled,’ suddenly bursts into my thinking. “Lucretius, how long have we been here?” I have this awful feeling inside another answer I am not going to like either is upon me. Rising and taking up his filled water-skin, he approaches me. “I laid yerself hence two days ago. Dawn of the third morn is an hour away.” That’s explains my raging thirst and the growling stomach. “I dribbled water in your mouth when I could.” He informed me, passing the spout to my lips. “Small sips at first, aye,” rumbles gently from his mouth. My mouth and neck are so parched; small sips are all I can manage. A queasy feeling hits after I swallow, but it soon passes and Luke again offers the spout. “I should have been back last night,” I mutter both reminding myself that ‘Pater’ will be starting to worry and so that Lucretius will understand a little better. Myself, ‘Ann’, ‘Evee’’ and ‘Aleese’ are but tools that serve a higher cause and all answer a summons or rendezvous as needs they must when called to do so. I had confidently told ‘Pater’ I would be back last night. “You’ll not be going anywhere for a day or two,” Lucretius chuckled. “So I’ll just step back and let yerself realise that for yourself. M’lady.” We’ll see about that. With an almost sweat-inducing effort, I managed to reach a sitting position, noticing I had been laying in Luke’s bedroll as I did so. As I struggled upright, dizziness hit me first followed hands and heels by nausea. Luke cradled my head as I lay back down. He left me with my thoughts while he moved to the edge of the dim lamplight and busied himself with what appeared to be, stoking up a fire. I was aware of his success as the flame’s flickering light penetrated the gap between where my forearm rested on my brow and my eyes. I was trying to think or a solution, thinking of people beginning to worry, and what effect this wound was going to have and the thoughts began to haze together. With a gentle start, I realised Lucretius was lifting my head and shoulders so when he knelt half behind me, my head cradled against his powerful thigh in a semi-reclining but head erect position. On opening my eyes, a spoon was hovering before my mouth, something that smelt, well if not manor class, edible. Sip by sip over who knows how long, that patient hulking brute of a man did his best to aid, comfort and care for me. The last dozen mouthfuls of that surprisingly good-tasting broth were cold but I could feel my strength returning. Next time, I was aware of time and my surroundings, the sun was shining in the half-shuttered window. I’m still cradled against Luke’s thigh and looking at the angle of the sun, he hasn’t moved in four hours, Every time my eyes flutter open, I see his grey eyes looking back. “With M’lady’s permission, I needs to refresh the poultice.” By this stage of our relationship, he has spent thrice as long in company of my naked self then the dressed me. Why is he asking when he’s already bathed, cleaned and done everything before and probably more than once? As if he read my thoughts, he replied to my unasked question. “A person unconscious can nary say nay or yay so one does what needs be done.” With Luke’s help, I manage to sit up and he unwinds the wrap holding the poultice against my side. I wince as he eases the poultice away from my very tender ribs where it has stuck to the weeping wound. Lucretius stands and walks away towards where I saw the fire earlier. The exposure to the air sets the injury stinging and I decide that I have to know the extent, as much as I dread looking. With my right hand, I pull my left breast inwards gently and am immediately heartened to discover the breast itself is undamaged. Twisting to the left is painful but I manage to see the front part of the wound. The whole area around the wound is a nasty purple-black colour from the bruising. From what I can see and feel, the musket ball struck my side, penetrated the skin on a shallow angle, struck my ribs and exited a little behind the entry wound. I have two elongated wounds on my side level with my left breast slightly below nipple level separated by an inch of flesh. “The bruising makes the wound look more serious than it is,” Lucretius informs me as he returned and saw my self-examination. Watching the pained look on Lucretius’s face as he carefully attempts to bathe the wound almost makes me smile at his tender compassion. I assist by holding my own breast up out of the way while the big man carefully wraps a fresh poultice in place. On completion, he helps me lay back down once more, the pain in spite of his gentle treatment has exhausted me. A few minutes later, he is back with another bowl of the broth and again, he patiently sits and spoon-feeds me. I know I could now feed myself but for some unfathomable reason, I am enjoying the situation, if not what caused it. Darkness has fallen the next time awareness intrudes into my senses. After looking about the dim barn interior, I fail to locate Lucretius. “Lucretius,” I call softly but no reply comes. For a few moments I wonder why then I suddenly realise, he will be doing everything I am not capable of. I remembered him saying he used my bow to fell a sow for the broth, the horses would need tending, firewood would have to have been gathered and water fetched. I realise when I think about, the enormity of caring for someone in my condition. When I contemplate the events of our meeting, it seems fortuitous to say the least. Considering the fact that immediately prior to him charging past me in that grove, I believed my lifespan would be measured in minutes. Until Luke’s timely arrival, I could only see three results. First, my death, struck down by arrow or blade and King’s men hauling my carcass before His Highness to claim their reward. Secondly, I’d be overtaken, captured and again hauled before the throne, reward given and me to decorate the gallows’ pole shortly thereafter. The third possible result was the same as the second but with violent rape added to the capture process and the final result unchanged. Lying here, almost incapable of moving, in pain, weary, tired, hungry and yes, a little fearful, this option is by far, the better outcome of the whole affair. Sometime soon after, I drift off into a restless sleep.
