There was loud thunder from outside, distant and rolling, though as Vara continued to sweep the floor of the room, it seemed to be coming closer. Opening the room’s shutters, she took a deep breath of the clear mountain air.

Vara looked up into the clear blue sky, the sound was substantially louder with the shutters open, though there wasn’t a storm cloud to be seen. Looking down onto the path leading up to the keep, there flowed a long line of horsemen. The lead rider held aloft a flag of some kind. Even had she been able to see it clearly, the flag would have meant nothing to her. She wondered idly if they had been to her village, if the village elders had pointed them in the keeps direction. Not that they would have needed to as the keep dominated the enclosed end of the valley.

No-one had mentioned the arrival of guests to her, nor the need to prepare rooms. Certainly not her mother, who made the soup Vara took for his lordship. His lordship hadn’t said anything about visitors either. Not that she spoke to, or saw him very often. Her mother said that he was a recluse. Vara didn’t know what that meant.

The horsemen were drawing closer and weren’t showing any signs of slowing down. Her eyes flickered to the gatehouse leading to the large courtyard. The gates had never been shut for as long as she could remember. The hinges were that corroded with rust, that she didn’t even know if the gates could even be shut.

Closing the shutter, Vara put the brush aside and hurried into the cold stone corridor and towards the dark circular stairwell. There were no lit sconces inside and Vara kept to the outer-wall, where the steps under foot were wider. She tightly closed her eyes as it seemed to make the descent easier. Round and down she went, the air changing as she passed doorways leading to the different floors of the old keep.

The semi-distant rumble changed to a clatter as iron shod hooves struck the granite cobbles. The main door that led from the courtyard into the keep proper, crashed open causing Vara to wince. His Lordship did not take to loud noise kindly, though he never said anything when she occasionally sang to herself as she worked. Sometimes singing made the work pass by quicker.

Flustered and a little breathless, she exited the stairwell into the dim corridor, lit by a simple solitary lamp. The voices were loud, harsh, in the main hall. The voices stopped as heads turned to her upon her entrance.

“Not deserted after all.” Dryly remarked one of the men, who was dressed in a long cloak of the richest colours Vara had ever seen. She would have loved a dress made out of it.

“Who are you?” Vara boldly asked.

“The new owner, girl.”

Vara’s young brows furrowed in confusion. “His Lordship never said...”

One of the men laughed. “That’s because he doesn’t know yet.” He said smiling as several of the men laughed, “How many servants are there girl?”

“Just me.” Some of the men had dirty boots and were leaving clumps of mud on the floor as they walked aimlessly around. That mud would need to be cleaned away and Vara doubted that the men would do it, which angered her as it would mean more work for her.

“You will address me as ‘Your Grace’, or ‘Sir’, girl.” He turned to one of his men. “That won’t do. Once the men are barracked and the mounts tended, take some down to that shithole we skirted and find some servants, ones pleasant to the eye. And some food and wine when you are at it”

The male nodded and slammed a gauntleted fist to his breast. “Yes sir.”

“Yes. Yes this will do very nicely indeed.”

“You can’t do this!” Vara said confused. The man turned to one of the others and nodded. “You can’t...” Vara started and then found herself looking up at the darkness held by the ceiling. Her Jaw was sore, as was the back of her head where it had somehow hit the floor.

The man who the first had nodded to, loomed over her and looked down contemptuously at her. “Servants don’t speak to his highness unless spoken to. And you will call him your Grace or you will be whipped.”

“I’m not his servant...” Vera said confused. A boot slammed into her stomach with enough force to make her retch.

“Not too bright that one!” someone said with a laugh.

“Bed warmers don’t need to be bright...” More laughter.

The man who had punched and kicked her, grabbed a hand full of her hair and dragged her upright. “Can I have this one your grace?”

The man with the lovely cloak didn’t even turn to her as he waved a gloved hand dismissively. “Find me the best rooms and have my possessions brought to them.”

“Yes your grace...”

“What’s going on here?” The voice was frail, weak and one that Vara knew as she was casually dragged from the hall by her hair.

“Who the fuck are you?” The man in the cloak demanded.

“This is my home...”

“Not any more it isn’t. You have one turn of an hourglass to gather some clothes and depart, or I will have my men throw you from the rampart. Your choice, so you’d better make it quick.”

The man leaned down to her as he dragged her from the hall. “I’m going to enjoy you. Acolytes and novices are only tolerable when there isn’t cunt, and I’ve not had a nice juicy tight cunt for weeks. Are you a maid?” He looked down at her tear tracked face. “You are, aren’t you? Never mind. I’ll soon take care of that for you. Obey me well girl, and your life here will be comfortable. Piss me off and I’ll give you to the men to have their fun. You won’t like that one bit. Not that you will listen or obey ... But after the first night in the barracks, you will understand ... If you are still alive that is, and if you haven’t bleed out.”

Vara finally gained her feet, but the man didn’t relinquish his tight hold of her hair. “Who are you...”

He casually slapped her across the face with his other hand. “Servants of the one true god. Jesus Christ. Who died on the cross for our sins. And from now on, you will address me as ‘sir’, cunt. And like his grace, you will only speak to me when you are spoken to. Unless it’s to tell me how much you like my cock inside you.”

“Why are you here...”

He slapped her again. “You really are a slow learner, aren’t you? But to answer your impertinent question. After several years on the crusades, his eminence has decided to settle down and bring his light and that of the one true God to the darkness and bring all you fallen peasants back into the loving embrace of the Vatican. God knows, you need it.” He dragged her into an empty room and threw open the shutters, letting light slip into the room. “The old man didn’t look like he had much stuff. That’s a pity. I hope the village has some shit to make this place a bit more homely.” He dragged her into the light and slammed her painfully up against the wall next to the window. “Hmm, you’re not too bad in the light. Tits are bit small, but they will fill out in time. Have you had your first bleed yet? Not that it matters.” He grasped her right breast and squeezed it painfully.

“You can’t do this!” The old man said as he slowly limped into the centre of the hall, leaning heavily on a cane.

“You bore me old man and test my limited patience.”

“By what right do you do this...”

“By the right of the one true light of our Lord, our God.”

“That’s strange. I have read the bible and I seemed to have missed that chapter. Where is it in relation to ‘Thou shall not steal nor covet another man’s property... ‘“

“That doesn’t apply to sinners and the damned.” The cloaked man snarled imperiously.

“That’s very convenient.”

“I don’t care much for your tone old man.” Cloaked man growled warningly.

“Well, there’s the door, feel free to leave.”

The Knight Templar strode angrily over, pulling out his sword as his men watched interestedly. “You had your chance old man, and know in your final moments, that my men will take their pleasure from your daughter...” He rammed his sword into the chest of the old man, the tip of his blade easily parting the thin, poorly spun cloth of the old cloak and the flesh underneath.

A foot of steel erupted from the old man’s back. With his other hand, the Knight Templar contemptibly pushed the old man back and off his sword. The old man dropped to his knees and growled like an animal as he clutched his chest before slowly regaining his feet.

The Knight Templar drew his arm back and readied his sword for a swing that he fully intended to part the old man’s head from his shoulders.

Pushed up against the cold rough granite, Vara could not escape. The man laughed as she desperately sought to evade his kiss. A hand grabbed her chin, holding her head firmly against the wall as his lips pressed hard against hers. She kept her lips tightly closed as he tried to push his tongue between her lips and into her mouth. His other hand fumbled with her skirts, reaching up inside. She closed her thighs, trying to deny him but he just pinched her skin savagely, eliciting a scream as her hands beat futilely against his metal armour. His hand was against her sex, a finger violating her.

“Well, what do you know, you are a maid! Well, I’ll soon take care of that for you...”

The distant clash of swords sounded from afar and the man paused as Vara cried. The clash of blades continued along with distant screams. “Fuck!” He pulled his finger from inside her and stepped back. “Don’t go anywhere, I mean to continue this.” He pulled his sword free from his scabbard and ran from the room as Vara collapsed to the floor, sobbing to the distant sound of metal hitting metal.

Eventually, her sobs subsided as did the sound of battle bellow. Vara picked herself up and placed a hand above her sex and rubbed herself gently through her skirts. His fingernail had been broken and jagged. She was sore but movement seemed to help. It was all quiet downstairs and Vara would have prepared to have avoided the entrance hallway, but it was the only exit out and she desperately wanted home.

The air was heavy with a strange scent that was sharp on the nose. Maybe she could sneak past the men. She peeked round the corner into the hall. A gasp escaped her lips and she
desperately clamped a hand over her mouth.

Figures lay scattered all over the floor. Blood seemed to cover almost every surface possible. It was even up the walls.

Nothing moved, there was no sound. No whimpers or groans of pain. Lifting the hem of her skirts well above the ankle of her boots, she placed shaking feet in between the torn and ripped bodies. Varna was halfway across the charnel room when she spotted the torn and shredded remains of the man that had been going to take her maidenhood. It looked as though he had been savaged by one of the mountain lions. She paused long enough to spit upon the corpse.

Near to the door she saw the old man, lying amongst the intruders. Several sword hilts protruded from his old frail body. She felt sorry for him, that he had met his end that way. He had always been good to her, and she had looked upon him more as a grandfather than an employer.

A little scream escaped her lips as his eyes turned to look at her. His lips parted, but no words came out. She couldn’t help herself and gingerly stepped over the carnage to his side, wobbling a little as she knelt down, still trying to keep her skirts from touching the mess pooling across the granite flags. His lips moved again, as though he was saying something.