Caution: This Historical Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, mt/ft, Ma/ft, mt/Fa, Fa/Fa, ft/ft, Fa/ft, Mult, Consensual, Reluctant, Historical, Incest, Harem, First, Oral Sex, .
Desc: Historical Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Accomplished English Knight is forced to kill the Earl he serves when the Earl betrays the King to whom they both swore their oaths of allegiance. This is complicated by the fact that the Earl is a close friend of the Knight. This leaves the Knight unsettled, unable to return to the land of his birth, where he would have to face the Earl's wife. Join him as he sets out across Europe searching for an elusive inner peace, as well as a cause to pledge himself to, and maybe even love along the way.
I felt the bile rising again. Whether it was from my betrayal of my friend, who happened to be the Earl I served, or from the Earl’s betrayal of our King, I didn’t know. As my stomach knotted violently a second time to make sure any residual breakfast was expelled, I realized it didn’t matter.
I knew it would take much more mead than was available in the next city even to begin washing away the guilt. Just a month ago, asked again to accompany My Lord to the Continent, to act as his bodyguard while he conducted his business, I had accepted eagerly. I was willing to do almost anything to escape my home where my young wife and newborn son had died just a few months ago.
Maybe the Earl felt I would be too distracted by those memories to notice what his business was. Maybe he felt I was more loyal to him than to the King who had knighted us, and to whom we both swore oaths of fealty. Maybe he thought our two nights of debauchery with the serving wenches from the local tavern bought my loyalty. Maybe he just didn’t think. Regardless, it cost him his life. What part of my soul it cost me remains to be determined.
I’m Sir Edward Rankin, until recently, the friend and most trusted Knight of Sir Roger Daubry, the Earl of Norfolk. After our two nights of debauchery, we went to meet with the Duke of Brabant. I had been under the impression that the meetings were to discuss increasing our export of wool to Brabant. Imagine my surprise when my Earl asked permission to recruit mercenaries in Brabant. A promise of increased wool exports to Brabant--primarily at the expense of Flanders--secured the Duke’s permission to recruit.
The next day we were headed south. There had been no debauchery the previous night, much to the dismay of the serving wenches at the tavern. We were on the road shortly after sunrise, probably the earliest I’d ever seen the Earl astride a horse. When I questioned his need for mercenaries, he admitted that many nobles had become fearful of the King and hoped to support Simon de Montfort as he pressed the King to make concessions and reforms. He rattled off the names of several prominent Earls I knew and a few Barons as he justified his position. Then he admitted that they didn’t think the King would back down peacefully, and they wanted to have enough troops to defend themselves if it came to a fight.
“That’s treason,” I hissed angrily.
Shocked at my support for the King instead of him, and the vehemence of my condemnation, the Earl drew his sword; it was a fool’s move. I guess he was desperate, especially knowing how much better than he I was with any weapon. Still astride our horses, he swung his sword at me, a move I easily parried. My horse was evidently more battle hardened than his was; mine stood still while the Earl’s hopped skittishly.
Able to use both hands on my sword since my horse was stable; my strike easily knocked his sword from his hand, sending it flying to the ground several feet away. Now even more desperate, the Earl spurred his horse, turning back to Antwerp. He was still in range when I finished stringing my bow and nocking an arrow. After my war arrow pierced the back of his chain mail, he slid off the side of his horse and bounced on the ground several times, his body spinning and rolling before coming to rest against the base of a tree. I could taste the bile rising as I slit his throat to make sure he was dead. Traitor or not, I had been his trusted friend and companion for six years. He had been there to comfort me when my wife and son died. I despised my own betrayal of him as much as I did his betrayal of my King.
Dragging him well off the road, I stripped his body, taking everything that might identify him or the fact that he was a noble. Mindlessly, I continued south, not sure now what to do with myself. Arriving in Brussels before dinner, I found a tavern with a room. Only when I took the saddlebags off the horses did I realize how much money he had brought. They were heavy with gold bars, silver coins, and gemstones. There was easily £20,000 here. Acting as the Earl’s agent, I had been to enough continental ports in the last six years to recognize a fantastic sum of money.
Unable or unwilling to return home to face the Earl’s widow, I realized that I knew enough of the continental languages to find a home somewhere here and decided to simply head east until I found a place I liked. Even though the serving wench tonight was cute and flirted shamelessly with me, I was in no mood for companionship tonight. I did tip her nicely after giving her delightful ass a squeeze.
In the morning, I sold the Earl’s weapons and his horse. Most of his clothing I gave to a family who I could see needed it desperately. I kept the cloak with the Earl’s crest on it as a reminder of my betrayal.
With a mission in mind, I rode faster today, reaching Antwerp in mid-afternoon. Riding straight to the docks, I found the Earl’s ship still there. They were just beginning to load the cargo they would take to London to sell; prices for finished goods were higher in London than in smaller ports. I explained to the Captain that the Earl needed his share of the profits from the load of wool they just sold, and needed a message delivered to the King in London. I had prepared the message last night, hopeful that I would be able to find someone who could deliver it.
I fear that I must report the death of Earl Daubry of Norfolk by
my own hand yesterday.
We sailed to Brabant on what I was led to believe was a
business trip. I learned after we arrived that the business was
As I questioned him about the need for mercenaries, the Earl
admitted belonging to a group of nobles supporting Simon de
Montfort--admitting also to hoping to force more concessions
from His Majesty.
When I spoke of treason, the Earl drew his sword against me.
Even knowing that I did the right thing, my actions haunt me.
The Earl was a close friend and I feel as if I severed a part
of myself when I took his life.
Despite my oath to you, I am unable to bring myself to return
to the land of my birth. Were I to do so, I know I would feel
obligated to face the Earl’s widow to explain my actions. Such
a loyal, kind, and caring woman deserves far better than what
I have done.
I am sure my family is not involved in the plot. Had they been
involved, the Earl would have listed them first among the names
he cited trying to convince me to join him.
God Save the King.
Sir Edward Rankin
With the Earl’s signet ring now in my possession, his seal on the missive to the King lent the necessary authority to ensure that the Captain delivered it. The letter to the King also included a list naming the nobles the Earl told me supported Simon de Montfort. The Earl’s seal on a separate message authorizing the Captain to give me the profits from selling the wool earned me an additional £251 towards my “retirement.”
I spent a short time wandering through the marketplace before it closed for the evening, deciding what and how much I wanted to take with me. The decision was made more difficult by the fact that I didn’t really know where I was going. Again, I spent the night alone, still feeling dirty and disgusted by my own betrayal of the Earl’s misplaced trust in me.
I barely made it in time for breakfast, having slept fitfully for a second night in a row. The marketplace was packed when I got there, the cacophony of voices bartering and arguing louder even than late yesterday. I went to the loudest group of voices, finding a dozen men checking a group of slaves ready to be auctioned. Most were busy “checking” the lone female in the group, ignoring the seven male slaves. I shuddered seeing that four of those slaves had been castrated. The hands of the potential buyers had the threadbare burlap shift the girl wore worked up high enough that they could caress her breasts, her naked ass, and between her slender yet muscular legs. They laughed at her shame, taunting her with what they intended to do with her if they won the bidding.
She was beautiful, evidently Saxon from her appearance. As old as she appeared, I was surprised that her hips were still slender, not showing any sign of having given birth. Her breasts were large enough that she could easily suckle a child, possibly two. I had never before seen a woman with blonde pubic hair, and the sight quickened my own pulse. The men parted to let me through to see her, obviously thinking better than arguing with a much taller, much more heavily muscled, and heavily armed man.
“Can you cook?” I asked the girl in my passable attempt at the Saxon language. It took a second for my words to get through to the humiliated girl.
“Yes,” she answered hopefully in perfect Saxon, her silky voice sending chills down my back. Her sexy voice quickened my pulse even further.
“Can you drive a wagon?” I asked. She answered in the affirmative again, the look of hope that she might avoid the humiliations promised by the other buyers growing in her eyes.
“You will also come to my bed,” I reminded her, not wanting her to think she would only be cooking and driving a wagon for me. No, a body like hers was meant to pleasure a man. The difference was that I wouldn’t debase or hurt her, and would make sure she also enjoyed herself. She nodded her understanding, a hopeful look returning to her eyes. I had a feeling she might not be dreading coming to my bed as she was the beds of the men who were groping her. I found humor in the fact that none of them, except the seller, even knew what I asked her.
The male slaves were auctioned off first. They were young and strong and brought a good price. I grimaced realizing that the girl would cost at least twice as much, maybe more with so many bidders. When the bidding began for the girl, it was fast and furious. I remained silent while the posers were eliminated. Most of them had really stopped by just for a look at and feel of the available girls, not intending to buy one unless they got extremely lucky on the price. Twice the girl looked questioningly at me. When only one bidder remained, his victorious smirk quickly turned to an irate scowl when I made my first bid.
Twice more he outbid me, and then finally stormed away. The girl cost three times as much as the most expensive male slave; I hoped she was worth it.
Her name was Hilda and her blue eyes were full of hope as the seller handed me her rope and a receipt. Whispering words of warning to me, he also gave me the receipt he received when he purchased her, one with a signet seal on it. I took the rope off the girl, and then spoke to her quietly. “If you disobey, you will be whipped. If you run away, I will find you and you will die a painful death,” I growled menacingly.
“I will cause no problems. Surely you noticed that I bore no marks from previously being whipped, and I served my last Master for eleven years,” she answered confidently.
“Good, let’s get you some better clothing,” I replied, walking towards the stalls where used clothing was sold. I had to visit several stalls before finding clothing I felt was appropriate. Hilda was shocked that I bought her two white linen undertunics and two blue wool tunics. Both were made from cloth with a fine weave so they were comfortable, even though it meant they cost more. I chose used clothing so she appeared wealthier than a peasant, while not appearing to be wealthy enough to make us a prime target for bandits.
I bought new shoes for her so they would last longer than used ones; two pairs of laced, soft deerskin shoes that came to just above her ankles. Her eyes were huge, moisture collecting in the corners of her eyes. “I’ve never had shoes before, just sandals,” she sniffled.
She followed eagerly as I sought a wagon for our journey. It took quite a while as I was looking for one with a hidden compartment. “As a trader, I frequently have very valuable goods to transport,” I explained to the wagon maker. Fortunately, the wagon maker also had four sturdy horses. I knew two would be enough, but preferred to be safe rather than sorry. The travel carriage was oak, making it heavier than if cheaper woods had been used. There was no telling when we might have to transport a heavy load, or if one of the horses might come up lame. I also paid to have heavier crossbars installed for the door. If someone tried to force their way inside, it would take them long enough that they would die when the door opened. There was a small brazier meant to burn coal, both for cooking and for heating when it was cool. Two small vents in the roof let smoke out and fresh air in when the brazier was being used.
The travel carriage was similar to an old Roman travel carriage, just longer and wider. With wood sides and a rounded wood roof, it was like a tiny house on wheels--similar to modern Gypsy wagons. The table was hinged to an inside wall with two legs that dropped down to hold it level. A similar table was attached to the outside of the carriage the same way.
Two narrow beds folded out from the same wall just like the table. Both had woven leather for the bedding to lie on. The main bed would unroll onto the floor, and was wide enough for Hilda and me to sleep together--and play together.
The driver’s seat was generally open, but had a leather curtain that we could lower and tie into place. The curtain had an opening just big enough to see through and run the reins through. The rounded roof of the carriage extended forward enough to keep the curtain--and rain--off the driver.
Hilda was shocked again when I bought her a used chain mail shirt. In addition, I bought two heavy-duty crossbows, each capable of firing two bolts before requiring reloading. I would teach Hilda to use them when I was better acquainted with her. The crossbows would be defensive weapons to be used against two or four-legged predators.
We ate fruit and cheese for lunch as we wandered through town, me searching and Hilda trying to keep up with me. We stopped three times at the inn to leave our purchases; each time I gave the innkeeper an evil glare warning that our things had better be untouched when we returned.
I also bought ten sheaves of arrows for my longbow, knowing that I would probably not find arrows long enough farther east. I added ten sheaves of bolts for the crossbows and bought a steel knife that looked like a short sword, complete with a sheath Hilda could tie around her waist.
I purchased of a pair of mastiffs--trained for hunting as well as well as to be guard dogs--and a Lymer for hunting and tracking quarry. All we needed to purchase tomorrow was food, bedrolls, cooking utensils, and tools like an axe. The Earl’s ship could reach London as early as tomorrow or the following day but we would have at least a three-day head start if anyone came looking for me immediately. If they did, they would probably assume I headed north or south to a port with which I was already familiar.
I could sense Hilda’s nervousness when we returned to the inn for the final time. It lifted a bit when we went to the dinner served by the innkeeper, an excellent mutton stew. I nodded to Hilda to let her know it was okay for her to eat her fill. As much as she ate throughout the day, I was sure she’d been underfed for some time now. I needed her healthy for the trip, and wanted her to eat her fill.
Her nervousness returned when we retired for the evening. We shared the tub of warm water I had the innkeeper set up in our room, something usually reserved for the wealthy. “You act like you’ve never seen a man before,” I commented, as she appeared almost to be sightseeing while she washed my cock and balls.
She blushed, ducking her head. “I haven’t,” she almost whispered.
“But, what of your previous master?” I asked, stunned that he could keep his hands off her for so many years.
“My last Master was a woman,” she answered nervously. I sensed there was more she wasn’t telling me.
“Are you a virgin?” I asked.
She blushed, staring at a point outside of our tub of water. “No, the man you bought me from was my first, taking me at night many times on our trip here, but my previous Master had already sundered my maidenhead,” she barely whispered, her blush covering even the upper slopes of her tantalizing breasts.
“What ... oh,” I answered as my indelicate mind finally deciphered the meaning of her delicate words. I had never seen two women together, but the conjured images in my mind of such an illicit act sent the blood surging to the part of me Hilda still held in her soapy hands.
Hilda jumped when my wet hand touched her cheek and she watched me nervously as I drew her face to mine and kissed her. “You’re not upset?” she gasped when we broke the kiss.
“You were a slave, and were supposed to do what your Master asked,” I replied. Suddenly, my wet arms were full of wet sobbing woman.
“I was afraid you would sell me again when you found out,” she sobbed. The man I bought her from obviously had good reason not to let Hilda see his cock. Even the finger I used to arouse her was bigger than he was. She gasped, moaned, and purred as I slowly worked my cock into her. After all the stimulation from opening her up, I didn’t last long. A second fuck would have been fun, but I didn’t want her overly sore tomorrow as we began our trip. I did instruct her in the womanly art of sucking my cock, an exercise she seemed to enjoy as she licked and sucked me clean.
I was amazed in the morning, discovering that simply holding a woman all night could finally allow me to banish my demons and get a good night’s sleep. Today we were the first to the inn’s breakfast table, and were finished long before anyone else. The morning was spent provisioning ourselves as Hilda followed me, deftly maneuvering the travel carriage through the streets. I chose some of the things we bought and allowed her to choose others, much to her delight. I figured that she should choose cooking pots and utensils with which she was familiar.
I chose the tent and our bedrolls, along with the tools and fishing gear. Cheese, dried meat, salted fish, dried fruit, fresh bread, and six firkins of ale made up the bulk of our food purchases. Fresh produce should be available from farms and villages along the way. Rabbits and occasional game birds I could get by hunting. I also bought us heavy coats as well as lighter capes to wear.
We left shortly after noon. I had publicly asked for directions to Utrecht, and left the business district headed north. Only when we approached the city walls did I turn east, headed for my first destination--Cologne. Mid-afternoon we entered a small village. They were wary of a heavily armed Knight, and gave me directions to Cologne politely, albeit nervously. Hilda bought a chicken from a farmer just before we entered town, one that had just been plucked. She also bought a basket full of eggs.
In each village we went through, the peasants were doing the same things; getting ready for the spring planting. The snow was mostly gone, although the roads were frequently damp or muddy. Since I wasn’t sure which forests were off-limits to the populace for hunting, I stuck to hunting rabbits, or birds like ducks, geese, storks, or cranes. As soon as I hit one, the Lymer was off and running, returning proudly with my target in his mouth, even if he had to swim to get it--or perhaps especially if he got to swim.
Fortunately, there were plentiful rivers, streams, and ponds along the road to provide a steady supply of birds and small game. Frequently, Hilda had one bird cooking in a pot on the brazier all day so it was ready as soon as we stopped for dinner, and another hanging off the back of the travel carriage to cook the next night. We even traded a few times with peasants for vegetables--root crops from last fall’s crop. Every couple of nights, we’d go fishing if we found a likely spot. She’d hold the torch near the surface of the water and I’d drop the baited hook in. We always caught a good-sized fish that way, frequently two or three.
After five days of travel, we arrived in Maastricht. I was surprised by the amount of traffic on the road towards Maastricht. We got there early enough to spend a couple of hours shopping. While we were replenishing our supply of coal, I heard my name being shouted. I was nervous at being spotted by someone who knew me, yet grateful that the voice had a distinctly French accent instead of English. “Sir Edward,” the voice called again as I turned to locate the owner of the voice.
“Sir Thibault,” I greeted him excitedly in return once I saw him. “What brings you here?” I asked.
“The Tourney,” he answered, looking at me as if I was a half-witted child.
“What Tourney?” I asked, suddenly realizing the reason for the extra traffic on the road.
He explained that the Duke of Westphalia had issued notice of a tourney beginning the day after Easter. It was to be held in Cologne beginning on the 28th. “He will field a team of Saxon Knights from Westphalia to challenge the best of the other Knights who show up. There will be a series of preliminary jousts if necessary to choose the opposing team. I imagine you won’t have any trouble making the team,” he chuckled.
He led us over to the rest of his team of nine Knights from Tournai. I recognized Sir Olivier and Sir Lucien, having gotten drunk with them several times after Tourneys in England and France--and having defeated each of them at least twice in a Melee a Cheval. I recognized faces of the rest of their group, but their names didn’t come to mind.
I explained that I had come here on business, and while I had time for the Tourney, had none of the necessary accoutrements. They promised that they had plenty of lances, armor, saddles, and everything else I needed. They had enough extra squires that they could loan me the mandatory six.
I finished my shopping with Hilda buying her sewing supplies that I’d been remiss in getting in Antwerp. I found a good broadsword that hadn’t been sharpened yet at a local sword smith. He’d made several, hoping to sell them in Cologne. We also bought oats for the horses, and topped off our other foodstuffs. It was nearly dark when we crossed the Meuse River on the bridge, right before they closed the bridge and the city for the night. We finally found where the French Knights had camped, a quiet place a couple of miles outside of town, and joined them for the night. As usual, the dogs were chained up beneath the travel carriage to warn us if anyone tried to sneak up on us, something I considered highly unlikely with so many people grouped together.
Hilda asked about the Tourney, curious how I knew the French Knights. I explained about the frequent Tourneys in Northern France and in Britain. The weapons used were like the sword I bought today--unsharpened. During the joust, the armor was extremely heavy and the lances were blunted, hoping to prevent serious injury. Aside from gaining renown, Knights could earn a lot of money “ransoming” other knights they defeated or captured during the Melee.
We’d been on the road less than an hour in the morning when we came across three pathetic-looking peasants. It was a mother, Ymma, her fourteen-year-old daughter Inga, and twelve-year-old son Draca. She begged us to give them food. When Hilda turned those blue eyes of hers on me, I couldn’t say no. While they sat inside our travel carriage and ate as we continued moving, we learned that the husband had been caught poaching in the Earl’s lands for a second time and was whipped to death. Rather than execute the wife and children, they were simply banished from the city and faced execution if they returned. They were forced to leave with nothing more than the clothing they had been wearing.
Later, she confided that she had been a seamstress for the Earl’s wife and daughter, and the Earl had taken liberties with her several times over the years. It was even possible that Inga was his. She’d allowed it to continue since she really had no way to get him to stop, and he’d never abused her. In addition, she was being rewarded by being paid extra for the seamstress work she did. She felt her relationship with the Earl was the reason she and her children were only banished, and not executed with her husband.
That evening, Hilda and I talked privately with Ymma. She had absolutely no prospects of anything she could do to support herself and her family. Hilda’s questioning to reveal all of the skills the woman had seemed intent on convincing me to ask her to join us. When I specifically asked Hilda, she was stunned that I would ask her opinion.
I was just as stunned by her reply. She suggested taking the family as indentured servants. She bluntly reminded Ymma that both she and her daughter would be expected to join me in bed. Ymma agreed reluctantly, realizing her daughter had no prospects for marriage since she couldn’t provide even a small dowry. Given that, her daughter’s virginity was a moot point. We agreed on a one-year indenture to begin, giving us a chance to get to know each other. On the first day of summer next year (okay, it was a little longer than one year) we would decide if all of us wanted to extend the indenture.
Ymma joined us in bed that night and wasn’t the least self-conscious about grabbing my cock and practically ramming it up inside of her. As we lay together afterwards, I saw that Inga had watched everything and seemed quite enthralled with my cock. Draca had watched, too, and seemed torn between ogling Hilda and his mother.
It was chilly in the morning, and our three new members were wrapped in blankets since they hadn’t been able to bring their coats. Fortunately, inside the travel carriage was quite warm with the brazier going. Fully wrapped against the chill, Ymma sat beside Hilda and spent most of the day learning to drive the travel carriage. Several times, I caught Inga watching me through the open window of the travel carriage. I was surprised at lunch when Draca came to me and thanked me for taking his family in. He’d evidently been impressed that I had been gentle with his mother the previous night, and by how much she seemed to enjoy it as well. Evidently, his father hadn’t been nearly as considerate of his wife.
Inga had our lunch ready for us and blushed as our hands touched when she handed me my bread and cheese. Rather than let her turn away. I took her hand and pulled her to me. “Are you worried about tonight?” I asked quietly.
“No,” she answered even more quietly, her face becoming almost crimson.
“Good, because I want you to enjoy it as much as I will, both tonight and each time we are together,” I replied loud enough that everyone heard.
This time, I lifted her chin and pulled her face to mine. When her mouth opened in surprise as our lips met, I took advantage of it and thrust my tongue into her mouth. Her gasp of surprise quickly turned to quiet, throaty moans of pleasure and desire as our tongues dueled. She whimpered when I finally broke the kiss. “Make sure you are clean and have a bucket of warm water ready for me to wash myself before dinner. I tend to sweat a lot down there while riding,” I informed her. She just nodded her assent, the look in her eyes clear that she wanted me to take her right then.
The old Roman road we had followed to Maastricht split right after lunch, one branch going north along the west side of the Meuse. The branch we took crossed the Meuse and went almost directly east. The paved Roman roads did make travel faster than using the muddy, rutted dirt roads.
We reached Heerlen by late afternoon. Market day was two days hence so we couldn’t find more clothing. I did buy more coal from a shop in town, and Ymma bought more cloth, lace, thread, and needles. Seeing her looking longingly at a mannequin that would make it faster and easier to finish dresses, I bought it for her. She explained that she could finish two or three dresses before we got to Cologne, and could probably make still more money working as a seamstress for all of the wealthy and noble ladies in attendance. She planned to have Inga making ribbons for the young women to wear in their hair. Those ribbons could be given to a Knight as a favor to tie to his arm, helm, or lance as he dedicated his performance to her.
Hilda traded for more root crops from a farm we passed. When we stopped for the night in a small copse of trees, Inga practically knocked me over as she rushed to me for another kiss. “I already washed myself,” she whispered excitedly, trying to sound sultry. She had fixed a nice stew for our dinner and we were ready for bed much earlier than normal.
After dinner, Hilda had Draca collect firewood. I was surprised when she asked if she could use one of the crossbows to guard Draca. “You know how to use them?” I asked.
“It will take me a little time to get used to these new ones, but I am quite good with both a crossbow and a Saracen sword,” she answered proudly. I gave permission, making a mental note to talk further with her and see how proficient she was, as well as why.
The bed was already set out and Inga was under the covers when I entered the travel carriage. A naked Ymma undressed me and washed me with the warm water. Then she motioned Inga over and instructed her in the fine and womanly art of giving a blowjob. What Inga lacked in experience she made up for in enthusiasm, eagerly following her mother’s instructions as her mouth bobbed up and down my cock.
Watching Inga’s small breasts jiggle as she worked on my cock, and the happy smile on her face as my cock stuffed her mouth, as well as seeing her mother’s excitement as she watched her daughter’s first blowjob had me coming quickly. Besides, I was just as worked up as Inga, having looked forward to this all day, too. Even with my warning, Inga started coughing when I filled her mouth with cum. She was distraught until I stroked her cheek and complimented her on the good job she did.
Then it was my turn to return the favor. Ymma had to cover Inga’s face each time she screamed when she came. After her third orgasm, she was out of it so I moved between her legs and wedged the head of my cock into her opening. She winced, and I toyed with her pleasure button until that was all she could concentrate on. I stopped trying to push into her, letting her gyrating hips do the work. She didn’t even realize when I was at her hymen, and continued unconsciously trying to work me deeper. At that point, I assisted, pressing forward sharply and sundering her hymen. She squeaked, but didn’t react otherwise. Still, I stopped to let any pain dissipate and to let her accommodate the sudden stretching feeling. It was only a couple of minutes later before she started again, this time even more insistently.
When we had finally finished, Ymma opened the window away from the road for a second, then closed it again. A minute later, the back door opened and Hilda looked inside, and then let Draca enter before she closed and barred the door. “The poor boy is suffering,” Hilda snickered in my ear quietly after snuggling against me. “I heard him relieving himself twice while we were out there,” she whispered. I realized I would need to find the poor boy an outlet for his urges, especially with him watching and listening to me fucking Hilda, his mother, and his sister.
The French Knights laughed at me in the morning, teasing me about practicing so much with my lance every night. Poor Inga blushed bright red, but Hilda and Ymma just smirked. “I think the lance he uses at night would be judged too long to use in the joust,” Hilda shot back teasingly, earning howls of laughter from the Knights.
Three days later, we arrived in Cologne and found our designated camping area. In the morning, we went into town where the women bought more sewing supplies. They were stunned when I spent £20 and bought a bolt of silk for them to make into dresses. I also bought two large pavilions for us to use at the tourney. One could be used temporarily by the women to do their sewing. During the Melee, the squires would use it to house the any Knights I “captured” while they arranged their ransom.
We had arrived four days early and the women spent twelve hours a day sewing dresses and making ribbons. Even the Duke’s wife sent for them and they made one of the silk dresses for her and another for her daughter. Surprisingly to the girls, the entire bolt of silk was quickly used up. Inga made ribbons from many of the leftover pieces, even giving one as a gift to the Duke’s thirteen-year-old daughter who had taken a liking to Inga.
I managed to find eight squires besides the ones the French knights offered to loan me, although the older boys would hardly qualify as squires under normal circumstances. Most were simply local farm boys who knew how to ride a horse. They were eager for the opportunity, not only to earn money as my squire, but also to earn additional money for every Knight I defeated whom they escorted back to my pavilion.
In addition to sewing ribbons, Inga sewed twenty tri-color banners that reflected both the banner of the Earl I had served, and the banner of my Father who was also an Earl. One banner flew proudly over each pavilion and the others would be used by the squires during the Melee to identify them as my squires.
Surprisingly, there were only eight challenges for our team. Somehow, I found myself chosen team captain and the forty-seven other Knights cheered when I accepted. Between the French knights and the eight who didn’t make the team of 40, I had more than enough equipment for the Melee a Cheval, including a destrier, a sturdier horse than the courser I bought in Antwerp. The courser is an excellent riding horse, even for riding into battle. It is strong, yet agile. It just isn’t big enough or strong enough to carry the extra weight of the heavy armor used for the joust like the destrier is.
For the review, all 80 Knights making up the two teams paraded before the Duke, his family, assembled guests, and all of the excited spectators. The Westphalia contingent went first, led by their Captain. I led our team, surprised to see the Duke’s daughter pointing excitedly at me as she whispered to her mother. She and her mother were both wearing the silk dresses.
After the review, I returned to the dais where the Duke was sitting and I dismounted. Kneeling, I waited until he motioned for me to rise, and then approached. “I ask your Grace’s permission to correct a grievous oversight,” I stated loudly and with great theatrical flair.
He motioned for me to continue. “With so many brave and noble Knights here, I am unable to believe that the fairest maiden in attendance has no Champion. I beg his Grace’s consent to ask permission of Lady Matilda to be her Champion,” I proclaimed boldly.
The Duke was trying to remain solemn as he granted me permission to ask his daughter. “Fair Lady Matilda, I beseech you to allow me to dedicate my performance to you today,” I pled. Bouncing excitedly, Matilda hurried to the railing of their dais and pulled the silk ribbon Inga gave her from her hair, letting it drop into my hand. Bowing, I stepped backwards, tied the ribbon around my arm, and remounted my horse.
The French knights teased me about looking for another woman to use for lance practice. Inga was excited that I was Champion for her friend. The next hour was a familiar time of chaos as all of the equipment was checked and then double-checked. The six real squires I borrowed from the French Knights were each given a lance to re-arm me with in the event I needed them. I made sure they knew who was to approach first, second, and so on. The farm boy squires would stay nearby. Two would have a travois in case someone needed to be helped to the physician; the others would escort any Knight who yielded or who was judged “defeated” back to my pavilion. That assumes I wasn’t defeated first, but I was reasonably certain I could avoid that.
Well outside of town, with nobles and spectators filling every possible vantage point to watch from, both teams lined up across from each other, separated by two hundred feet. When the horn sounded, the Saxon line charged. Ours did, too, except the Knights formed into a wedge with me at the point. We’d break through their line, and then turn on them. If some of the Saxon Knights on the outside of their line began to turn towards us early, Knights farther back in our formation would break out of our formation to attack them.
Surprised by our tactic, the Saxon Knights were confused as to how to respond. As a result, we annihilated their charge. Their Captain ended up knocked from his horse and I quickly turned to find any of the remaining Saxon Knights who were still mounted. I saw one of my squires helping the Saxon Captain to his feet as I took aim at a second mounted Saxon Knight. Our second charge finished unseating all of the Saxon Knights so I dismounted. Climbing from my horse and unsheathing my “dull” sword, I waded into the cluster of Saxons wielding swords, maces, and battleaxes, and began swinging my own sword.
Some melees last until dark settles in. This one was over in two hours, the valiant Saxon Knights having been “vanquished.” I was happy to hear there had been no deaths, and only a few serious injuries. The French knights led the praises directed at me by both our team and the Saxon Knights. Hilda, Ymma, and Inga kept the ale and mead flowing while we talked and laughed, and in some cases, waited for the “ransom” to be paid. While I didn’t remember so many defeated foes, I was credited for eight defeated Saxon knights and my squires were stunned at what I ended up paying them--far more than their usual monthly wage.
One of the younger Saxon Knights, Alfwold, spoke nervously with me. He didn’t have the ransom, and hoped I wouldn’t be upset having to accept his weapons, armor, and horse. Accepting the arms and horse was a common ransom and I had no problem doing so. His father had sent him after being assured there was no way the Saxon Knights could lose. They needed the money he hoped to gain from the ransoms.
One look at his horse and I was glad he didn’t have the ransom. I told him to keep everything else; the horse was worth a small fortune. That praise got him started bragging about the horses they raised. His father knew Alfwold was weak at jousting, but hoped the horse would give him confidence. “It gave me plenty of confidence, just not the competence to go with it,” he admitted. When I found out he was from Dortmund, I decided that we were going that way when we left here. I wanted to buy another of these magnificent horses. The destrier I left behind in Norfolk had been a personal gift from the King and had won me many tournaments. This horse was a hand taller and much more solidly muscled.
The banquet that night was lavish, as was the praise the Duke heaped on me. Already familiar to the Duke, Hilda, Ymma, and Inga were asked to help serve (for pay) at the banquet. The loudest cheer of the night was when The Duke’s daughter brazenly kissed my cheek, blushing bright red as she did.
Well after dinner, and after the majority of the Knights were passed out, had staggered their way home, or were too drunk to care, the Duke took me aside. I learned my lesson at my first tournament and rarely drank more than one mug of ale or mead with each meal during the tournament; hence, I was completely sober when he approached me. He thanked me for making his daughter’s day, and praised me privately for what I managed to do today. Then he shocked the hell out of me.
Shortly before the Duchess gave birth to their daughter, the Duke had become deathly ill. He had obviously recovered, but neither the Duchess nor any of his other concubines conceived since then. He wanted a male heir and wondered if I would be willing to assist them discretely. I explained that I wasn’t opposed to helping them, but wondered about wagging tongues. In reply, he suggested that I begin acting drunk. He would have his staff help me to one of the rooms, one with a secret passage. Sometime during the night, the Duchess would visit me. After tonight, I would be his honored guest for a week or so, hoping the time would be enough to accomplish the task. He even allowed my three women to join me that night to help alleviate any suspicion if sounds of passion were heard coming from my room.
Draca remained at the travel carriage, his meal (and probably too much ale) being provided by the women who came along to attend to the French knights. The girls were stunned when I whispered the plan to them, but promised never to speak of it. I could see a look of pride in Hilda’s eyes, even more than after the Melee today.
I had actually fallen asleep before the Duchess crept into our room. A quiet but drawn-out squeak as the secret door from the passageway opening woke me. In the light of the single candle still burning in the room, the Duchess appeared exceedingly beautiful. She giggled when I gave Hilda a gentle slap on the butt to wake her so she could move over and I stood to greet the Duchess.
Nervously, she came to me, allowing me to draw her to me. “Your women speak as proudly of your exploits every night as the men do your exploits today,” she whispered.
“I try to make them as happy as they make me,” I replied as I lifted her face and kissed her. I slipped her robe off her shoulders and carried her to the bed, putting her robe on the bed with us so it would be warm when she redressed.
The Duchess was moaning and writhing when I finished worshipping her breasts. She gasped in surprise when she felt my tongue run through her feminine furrow. Hilda had to kiss her to cover her mouth and muffle her cries of pleasure. It wouldn’t do for anyone to recognize her voice in my room.
After her third orgasm, she practically dragged me up and insisted on having my cock inside of her. As big as I am, I went slowly, giving her time to relax and to accommodate me. Then I fucked into her, trying to keep up with the frenzied pace she set. Knowing it was the Duke’s beautiful wife I was fucking, and that both of them wanted me to get her pregnant made for a short session before I came, delivering my seed at the very opening of her womb. After we recovered, she insisted on a second time before returning to her chambers. She teased me that she was surprised that her daughter hadn’t tried to sneak into my room. All day and all night, I was all Matilda could talk about.
“You may rest assured that were she to visit, she would be returned to her room with her virtue intact,” I promised the Duchess.
“If you can promise that, then don’t be too hasty in returning her to her room,” the Duchess replied in a sultry voice as she gave me one last kiss, slipped her robe back on, and slipped back into the passage. The door squeaked much less as it closed than when it opened.