Bertrice Small - The Innocent

"Where do you reside?" she asked him.

"In the apartment below you, my pretty bitch."

She nodded. She must remain faithful to him unless he chose otherwise, for to get to her, a man must go past his chambers. "If you desire me to entertain a favored gust, my lord, am I to bring him here or elsewhere?"

"I house my guests in the other tower. You will always be sent to await the visitor. You may explore tomorrow to your heart’s content, Isleen."

"And when you desire me?"

"I will come here, of course," he told her. "My chambers are for me alone, Isleen. No one enters them but me."

"Who cleans and changes the linen for you?" she demanded.

"It is taken care of. How, is not your concern."

"And what will my exact position here be? Am I your mistress? If so, what are my duties? Do you desire me to oversee your servants? Your cook? I want no misunderstanding between us."

"I have a steward, an old man, who has been in the castle all of his life. He oversees everything, and is quite capable. His name is Harry. You are to do nothing but keep yourself in readiness for my lust, and be an amusing and charming companion when I so desire you to be. Harry will give you whatever you desire to keep you content."

"I want a promise from you right now," Isleen said. "Arwydd is not to be accosted by you or your men. She is no good to me with a big belly. As Clud’s niece, she is invaluable to me in more ways than just that of a serving wench. I need her, my lord. She is a clever girl. Promise me she will be left alone."

"Lift your skirts," he commanded her in reply.

Isleen did not hesitate. She raised her skirts high, revealing her naked body beneath. He knelt before her, and using his fingers to open her, began making love to her with his tongue. Isleen closed her eyes, and breathed a deep sigh of pleasure. When he had brought her to a tingling peak, he stood up and pulled his manhood from his disarranged clothes. Isleen knew what was expected without any command being made. Dropping her skirts she knelt before him and, taking him in her mouth, roused him further with her lips and tongue until he commanded her to stop. Pulling her up, he pushed her back upon the bed and, thrusting her skirts up, drove himself into her. She wrapped her stockinged legs about him, her heels beating a tattoo upon his buttocks as he pistoned her. He was a tireless lover, slowly bringing her to her crisis. Then to her amazement, for he had done so last night to her surprise, though she thought it coincidence, peaking exactly as she did. Immediately, however, he arose from her, pulling her skirts down and offering her a hand to arise.

"Tell your wench not to flirt with my men. Not even to look them in the eye, for they are a randy bunch. If she obeys you, she will be safe from my men. The only man in the castle she may trust unwaveringly is old Harry, the steward. Remember that, my pretty bitch."

"What of the three who were with you last night, my lord?"

"They will never make eye contact with you, Isleen. They know if they do they will be killed. They spent a night in paradise. Now they must forget that paradise ever existed. Did any of them please you? Was there one who stood out among the trio?"

"Only you please me, my lord," Isleen murmured softly.

"Especially when I strapped you, and took your bottom," he said with a wicked smile.

"Yes," she admitted. "It was exciting. Will you do it again?"

"When it pleases me, Isleen. You must learn to give pleasure to a man in as many ways as you can. And you must be completely obedient to your lord’s wishes, but I think you already are dutiful in matters of the flesh. Are you not?"

"Aye," she said.

"Raise your skirts up again," he said.

She obeyed.

"Bend over," he commanded, and again she obeyed. Taking her beneath his arm, he spanked her bottom several hard, stinging blows. Then his fingers delved between her nether lips, and he smiled a wicked smile. "You are very dutiful," he murmured as his wet fingers came about and pushed into her fundament.

Isleen squealed, and wiggled her bottom lustfully. "Oh, yes!"

"I have always told myself there is no such thing as a perfect woman, my pretty bitch," Merin ap Owen said as the two fingers thrust back and forth within her narrow channel, "but I think you may actually be perfect, Isleen."

Her body shuddered with its new release, and she sagged against him, panting. "Ohhh, that was good, my lord, but tonight I want your hard cock there!" He was a wonderful lover, she thought. Much better than her cousin, Saer de Bude. Still, she would not give up her plans for revenge against Eleanore de Montfort. She would enslave Merin ap Owen with her body. Perhaps he would even fall in love with her. And then she would cajole him into attacking Ashlin, into destroying everything that the little nun and her knightly husband had built up. She knew of Ashlin’s prosperity. Her father had pointed it out enough to her.

"Ranulf de Glandeville has managed to make Ashlin thrive. If you had concerned yourself with helping Richard instead of lusting after your cousin, things might have been different," Baron Hugh had grumbled. "Why they actually made a profit on their wool at the Lammas Fair. But no! You could not be bothered to be a good wife. To give your husband children. Perhaps you are barren like Saer says, you useless bitch! Now you have brought shame upon the family, so much so, that the king has ordered you punished. Well, I've finally found a convent that will take you in York. They understand the situation. You will be locked in a chastity belt, you wretched bitch, and you will work and pray without ceasing for the rest of your life! They have brown woolen robes they wear year-round. Without chemises, Isleen, in order that the itching of the wool mortify the wickedness of the flesh. You will be fed but once a day, at noon. The food is simple and wholesome. There is no wine, and little meat or cheese. And once I have left you there, my daughter, I hope never to see you again!

"But you promised I should only be incarcerated until King Stephen died," Isleen wailed.

"I have changed my mind," Baron Hugh said.

Isleen had escaped from her father’s house that night. He probably thought her dead by now, but she was not dead. She was alive, and she intended on having her revenge, even if she had to give up her immortal soul to obtain her victory.

THE WIFE
ENGLAND 1154

The winter passed quietly. There was more than enough food for the people of Ashlin and for their livestock. April flew by, and May first came again. On this birthday Elf was great with her child, and every little thing seemed to aggravate her. No one, even Ranulf, dared to forbid her when she decided to travel to St. Frideswide’s one mid-May afternoon.

"Do you think it wise?" the lord of Ashlin ventured in his only attempt to stop her.

Elf glared at him. "I have been cooped up here all winter, my lord. I have no one to talk to but Willa and old Ida, who fills my ears with dire predictions with every breath I draw. I will take Orva and Willa with me in case of any emergency, but there will be no emergency. I want to see my friends again!"

"The cart must be well padded," he insisted.

"Whatever will relieve your mind, my lord," she snapped.

"And you will have an escort of armed men, petite."

"Naturally."

"I am not happy that you go."

"It is unfortunate that my desire to see friends disturbs you so, my lord," she replied in acid tones.

Willa touched the lord’s arm gently and said, "Orva says a woman near her time can become cranky, my lord. The lady means no disrespect, I am certain."

"You will remember me to the abbess, petite," Ranulf said to his wife. "And to Sisters Winifred and Columba, too." He grinned at her.

"Of course," Elf said shortly.

The cart that Elf traveled in was well padded in thick wool upholstered with blue silk. It had a red-and-blue-striped silk awning over it with side curtains that would roll down in the event of a heavy rainstorm. The awning was waxed to prevent the rain’s penetration. Elf was most comfortable sitting with her legs up now. Orva and Willa rode next to the cart, which was surrounded by half-a-dozen men-at-arms. They departed Ashlin in the morning, arriving at the convent in late afternoon. The men-at-arms left them at St. Frideswide’s gate, returning home. A nun hurried forth to lead the cart horse into the cloister, its driver having departed in the company of the men-at-arms.

The cart came to a stop, its back gate was lowered, and Elf was helped down by her two women.

"Elf!" Sister Columba came running toward her friend, her dark robes flying. "Oh, Elf! It is so good to see you again!" the young nun exclaimed. She set Elf back, and looked at her. "Mary have mercy! You are huge! He'll be every bit as big as his father, I vow!"

"How I'm going to birth him, I do not know," Elf grumbled. Then she laughed. "It is good to be back," she said happily.

"Come along, and I'll take you to the guest house," Sister Columba said. "You will have it all to yourself."

"Most guests visiting St. Frideswide’s usually do." Elf chuckled. "These are my servants, Willa and Orva. Orva is the manor midwife. I thought it better I travel with her."

"Are you that near your time?" Sister Columba said, eyes wide.

"Aye," Elf told her. "I probably shouldn't have come, but I couldn't stand being boxed up at Ashlin one more moment. Then Ranulf attempted to play the lord and master. It was simply too much! Besides, I needed to see you and the others. I have not been back to St. Frideswide’s since we returned to Worcester. It’s been a year and a half!"

They reached the guest house, and Sister Columba ushered them inside. "What is it like being married, Elf?"

"Very nice," Elf told her, then turned to her servants. "Orva, Willa. Unpack my things, if you please. We will sleep in the dormitory through that door." She pointed. "Sister Columba and I are going to walk in the cloister garden. The bell will sound for the meal shortly. Listen for it." Then Elf hooked her arm through Sister Columba's, and the two young women walked outside of the guest house.

"You have grown so authoritative," the nun noted.

Elf laughed. "I have to be. I am the lady of the manor," she told her friend. "Now, let me tell you about being married. My husband is a kind man with a good heart. He is a fine lord, and our people respect him greatly. My life is a round of daily duties, very much like living here at St. Frideswide's. There is a time for planting and harvesting; for slaughtering and threshing; for making soaps and preserving foods. We have done much at Ashlin since I returned, not the least of which was restoring the manor church. We appealed to the bishop of a new priest, and Father Oswin was sent us in late autumn."

"Then, you are happy," Sister Columba said quietly.

"Aye," Elf told her best friend. "I am very happy, Matti. When I was torn from this life I believed I was to lead, and given to be Ranulf’s wife, I thought I should never be happy again, but I am. I am happier than I have ever been in my whole life."

"Do you love him?"

"Aye, I do, though I have never said it to him."

"Why in heaven’s name not?"

"Ranulf is a battle-hardened warrior, Matti. Sweet sentiment does not reside in his breast. I should embarrass him if I said I loved him," Elf said with a small smile. "What could he possibly say to me in return? We like each other, and I respect him. We have a good marriage."

"If you said you loved him, he might just return the sentiment," Sister Columba said hopefully.

"But what if he does not? I would discomfit him, and he would be abashed, for he would not harm me knowingly. Nay, it is better things remain as they are."

"I would want my husband to know I loved him," Sister Columba said firmly. "I tell our dear Lord each day of my love for him."

"But it is God you love, Matti. My love is all too human, and my husband would be quite confounded to hear me whispering sweet nothings into his ear." She chuckled.

"Eleanore."