Chapter 18

Rome, Papal States. December 1067

Christmas day 1067, and Pope Alexander II didn’t have much to be thankful for. The entire island of Britain was now in the hands of the woman-loving Queen Marion of Great Britain. The Welsh had been crushed, and the Breton Navy had been annihilated. Alexander didn’t have any allies that could transport an army across the Oceanus Britannicus, and his allies’ armies were getting thin. Most of the Breton Army had been lost with their fleet, and the remnants of the Welsh Army were in captivity.

As he sat on his throne, Sextus stood silently off to the side as his liege was in pain, but he couldn’t do anything to help. The British question was causing the pope many sleepless nights, and the lack of sleep affected his health. To get any sleep, Alexander turned to an increasing amount of wine. If the British weren’t enough of a problem, many of Alexander’s allies were turning away from him, and he didn’t have the diplomatic skills to form the kingdoms of Europe into a coalition against Britain.

With wine unable to dull Alexander’s pain, he turned to inflicting pain on others to dull his. His favorite target was the whores that worked Rome’s streets. Since they were doomed to hell anyway, he might as well try to save them. Alexander’s way of “saving them” would cause ordinary people to be sick. A couple of times a week, he would send a small team out to pick up one or two whores and bring them back to a small room in the Vatican’s basement. This was where he set up his torture chamber.

After the victim was strapped to a wooden table, the guards would leave, and Alexander would enter. For the whore’s location, she could see all the instruments of torture Alexander had at his disposal, including the one that would eventually kill her. Before he even asked the victim a question, a sharp knife was used to cut her clothes away. In fact, Alexander found he got far more satisfaction by remaining silent during these sessions.

After the whore’s clothes had been removed and thrown into the fire, Alexander made a show of choosing the following instrument. Sometimes it was candles dripping hot wax onto the woman’s breasts. To increase the woman’s pain, her legs could be lifted, allowing hot wax to drip onto her clit or directly into her vagina. One of Alexander’s favorite torture methods was filling a woman’s tunnel with hot wax.

Before he would start, a T-shaped piece of iron would be inserted for the wax to hold onto, then the wax would be poured. Instead of candle wax, Alexander would heat a large pot of wax over a fire and ladle it into his victim. After it cooled, he could remove the wax casting of the victim’s vagina and remove any cooked pieces of meat before adding it to his collection. When Alexander got tired of the whore, she was suspended over a tall, thin cone nailed to the floor. The blunt tip of the cone would be inserted into her ruined cunt, and she would be lowered onto the cone. As she was lowered, her legs were pulled apart, and she would be impaled as her weight forced the tip of the cone into her body. The cone was tapered so the woman would only slowly slide down until her butt touched the floor. When her butt hit the floor, the tip of the cone was coming out of her mouth. Death would follow within a day due to internal bleeding. The body would then be fed to the hogs, and the process would start again.

Hull, Great Britain. December 1067

The northern wind was frigid as their merchant ship entered the port of Hull while Vitale Selvo and his family were in awe. Working the docks, various steam-powered cranes could lift much more than any man-powered crane Vitale had seen. The sounds emanating from the dockyard frightened his youngest child, and she was crying when he picked her up to comfort her. If Vitale was truthful, picking up his youngest child was as much to calm himself as the child. Nothing he had ever seen prepared him for the British dockyard.

Thankfully for Vitale, one of his servants spoke English and got directions to York. Vitale, not being stupid, allowed the servant to make all the arrangements but was shocked when led to a station. Still, Vitale trusted this servant completely; the servant’s family was with them. They seemed to be waiting for something when a group of British soldiers came up to get tickets. While that wasn’t too strange, a third of the group were women.

Vitale could hear a distant sound when a second group of soldiers walked onto the platform, and the first group suddenly went quiet and snapped to attention, saluting a figure in the second group. The servant leaned over to give Vitale a running commentary of what was happening.

“See that pregnant soldier, milord?”

“Yes. What about her?”

“From what I gather, she is all these soldier’s commander with the rank of brigadier general, whatever that means.”

“A woman commander?!?!”

“Yes, milord. From the way all the soldiers act, she is very popular.”

“Probably a whore. Can you tell what they are doing?”

“Sounds like they are part of an engineering unit, their work here is done, and they are headed home.”

Shaking his head, Vitale returned to his wife’s side, who was staring at a metal beast pulling into the station, belching smoke and fire. Vitale would have been nervous, but one look at the British soldiers told him there was nothing to be afraid of. Like anyone new to train travel, Vitale’s family did their best not to be swept away in the rush of humanity that flowed out of the rail coaches. Then the tide reversed, sweeping Vitale’s family and travel companions into the coaches. A uniformed train employee helped them find their seats and settle down. When Vitale looked around, he couldn’t see any soldiers on this railcar, which disappointed him because they could have been a good source of information.

Suddenly he heard a loud noise and felt the car lurch forward, followed by his children squealing in fear. While his trusted servant calmed the children down, Vitale watched as the train pulled out of the station and picked up speed. Immediately, he could see the potential military use of such a machine. With a rail system, troops could be moved long distances and arrive fresh, ready for battle.

An hour later saw Vitale stepping off the train in York. The trip hadn’t just opened his eyes; it had pried them open. The British were so far ahead of everyone on the continent that Vitale Selvo didn’t doubt for a minute that within five years, no kingdom would be able to stand against them. His trip from Venice to the mouth of the Rhine had taken two months, with most of it on a river barge. Sure, he stopped in Frankfort to meet with Henry IV, but that hadn’t taken more than a week. It wasn’t hard to imagine if there was a European-wide train network, a trip from Venice to the Rhine estuary might only take a few days or, at most, a week.

Now that Vitale Selvo was in York, it was time for his diplomatic skills to come into play. The Doge wanted a trade agreement with the British, or if that couldn’t be accomplished, Vitale was to get as much of their technology as possible. However, seeing how far ahead the British were, Vitale didn’t know if Venice could adopt everything he saw.

Not having an agent already in York costs Vitale a great deal of time trying to set up a base of operations; it took him almost a week to find a house to rent. Once the house was rented, Vitale sent his wife out to try and pick up social information. She was an Italian beauty who could talk with anybody. Meanwhile, Vitale would meet with the queen and hopefully the leading industrialist to try and gain information. He was greatly disappointed when he learned it would take another week to meet with Marion while a meeting with the leading industrialist was impossible.

While Vitale was finding only dead ends, his wife, Lùsia, had much more success. It took her a few days to learn enough about the culture to talk with people but learn she did, and what Lùsia learned frightened and excited her. In Britain, she could be anyone she wanted to be. It didn’t matter if it was a soldier, a business owner, or a regular worker. Vitale was deeply bothered by what his wife was telling him; it would mean an end to Christian culture throughout Europe. As if giving women equal rights wasn’t bad enough, Jews weren’t just tolerated; they practiced their religion openly in York.

Eventually, Vitale got an appointment to meet with Queen Marion, and when Lùsia heard, she wanted to go along, to which he told her “NO.” Usually, Lùsia would have stopped there, but this time she kept pushing, going so far as to withhold intercourse with Vitale. He never realized how cosmopolitan Lùsia was because she never had the chance to shine. Now she did and was determined to emulate British women.

Walking to the meeting with Marion, Vitale was silently fuming, seeing how his wife had disobeyed him by coming with him. He was so angry that he barely noticed the large number of women working in the castle, but he saw the large amounts of strange technology. His next blow came when Marion’s secretary kept him out of Marion’s office. It seemed the meeting before him was running longer than scheduled. Vitale sat on a comfortable couch where his wife sat beside him and leaned against him.

Ten minutes after Vitale arrived, Marion’s door swung open, and the largest man Vitale had ever seen strode out. He wore a military uniform, and while Vitale didn’t know the British military rankings, he seemed very important. The man stopped at the secretary’s desk and said something which made her giggle before exiting the office. The secretary walked to Marion’s door and stuck her head in before telling Vitale he could go in.

Vitale and Lùsia walked in to find a beautiful blonde woman sitting at a large desk and a fearsome-looking brunette behind her standing against the wall.

“Queen Marion of York?”

“Yes, tis I,” responded the blonde cheerfully.

Vitale couldn’t believe his eyes. Whenever he pictured Queen Marion, he imagined an older woman turning gray. The woman before him was much younger than he was; he estimated she was only twenty years old, and she glowed. Not only that, she projected an aura of power. Anyone who met her could determine very quickly that this woman was not one you would want to cross.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, your majesty,” Vitale said once he pulled his head out of his arse.

“Please, it’s Marion, and the pleasure is mine,” Her attention turned to Lùsia. “And who might you be?”

“Lùsia, your majesty. Vitale is my husband.” Lùsia managed to get out. Her eyes were wide open with shock and awe.

“Pleased to meet you too. Like I told your husband, it’s Marion. Now, can I get you two anything to drink?”

“Yes,” replied Vitale. “May I get a glass of wine?” Marion then looked into Lùsia’s eyes:

“And for you, dear?”

“The same,” Lùsia still wasn’t too trusting of her voice.

Marion called for a bottle of wine and three glasses which her secretary brought in, and Marion poured. To his surprise, Vitale liked the wine. Back in Italy, he had access to some of the best wine produced, and this ranked among the best.

“So, Vitale, what does Venice want to talk about? I’m not sure we have any common interests.” Marion said as soon as her door was shut.

“The Doge is interested in trade agreements and wants my general assessment of your kingdom to see if you might pose a threat in the future.”

“What is Venice able to trade?”

“Salt, cloth, silk, and spices.”

“The only thing on that list that could be of interest would be spices. Even then, you would have to transport it overland or by sea, and I doubt the Moors will let you out of the Mediterranean Sea. I have salt mines, and British cloth is very high quality. I would be interested in silk if the price weren’t so high. As far as being a threat, why would I go into the Mediterranean when I open access to the world’s oceans?”

“We can make it very hard for you to trade with the Byzantines if we don’t come to terms.”

Marion slowly stood up, her eyes on fire as she stared at Vitale. “If you think you can threaten me, I will crush you as I have with everyone who thought they could intimidate me. I highly doubt you could seriously threaten British trade because if you refuse to trade with us, the Muslims will. As far as the Byzantines are concerned, they are a fading empire, and eventually, the Muslims will crush them. If you think differently, you need to open your eyes to reality. The empire is surrounded by enemies and is beset with internal strife. Multiple armies have made it to the walls of Constantinople, and eventually, one of them will be able to break through the city walls.”

Vitale was getting red; this meeting wasn’t going as he thought it would. He figured to dazzle the mire woman sitting behind the desk and win trade concessions for Venice. Now he wasn’t sure if he could accomplish anything. If Vitale had bothered to ask his wife, she could have saved him the aggravation. While walking through the town, she went to the market to see what was available. The cloth available was much higher quality than what was available in Venice, and the price of salt was cheap. To Lùsia’s surprise, she found silk cloth available even though it was slightly more expensive than at home.

Vitale fumed as they walked home after the meeting while Lùsia was silent. She had been married to him long enough to know he would eventually wear himself down, and then she could make her suggestions. Until then, it was best if she kept to herself. Once back at the house they were renting, Vitale picked up a bottle of wine, chugged it, and sat down. Only then did Lùsia speak up and tell Vitale everything she had seen. She had told him all this before, but he hadn’t listened.

Paris, France. December 1067

While Marion was shooting down Vitale and Lùsia, Philip I was being shot at by his nobles. Leading the opposing group was none other than Viscount Guiscard. Ever since Guiscard discovered Benedict had screwed him, he had been visiting or sending messages to all the other French nobles, and many had sided with him. They heard about what Marion was doing in Britain and didn’t want any of it in France. Her firearms were dishonorable, and the idea of women having the same rights as men was outrageous.

While Philip took shots from his nobles, he was slowly building the Royal Army. They were all armed with firearms, and the NCOs and lower officers were trained to use them properly. All Philip had to do was to keep the nobles from rebelling for the next few months. Once it became summer, Philip figured he would have the strength to defeat a noble rebellion. Viscount Guiscard knew that, too, and was doing everything he could to speed the rebellion up, but Philip was cagey. During the fall, he stopped pushing many of the reforms that would bring his kingdom into the future but angered the nobles. By appearing to give up on those reforms, Philip kept the nobles from rebelling. Many thought they had won, and Philip learned his lesson.

It didn’t seem to matter what Guiscard said; most nobles wouldn’t rebel unless something significant changed. By December, Guiscard and Philip were in a stalemate, and with winter upon them, nobody wanted to fight anyway. Guiscard received an early Christmas gift from an unlikely source a week before Christmas.

A guard found Guiscard raping a newly married serf named Amée. Guiscard always claimed the first night with all new brides from his property, and many gave birth nine months later. When the guard came in, the bride screamed and tried to cover herself, but Guiscard wasn’t having it and forced the woman to expose herself to the guard, who greatly appreciated his lord showing him the bride.

“I’m sorry to interrupt milord, but an English noble is here to see you.”

“An English noble? Why would I wish to see him?”

“He said to tell you that he has information about a coming English rebellion. Apparently, their wench queen isn’t as popular as she thinks.”

Guiscard sighed, “Very well, show him in,” then turning to the woman in his bed. “Don’t dare go anywhere or cover anything.” He growled at her, and she shook in fear as he turned to greet the Englishman.

Guiscard had to admit he was curious as to why a filthy English noble would seek him out. Wulfnoth Godwinson, Earl of Wessex, strode in, eager to negotiate an alliance with Viscount Guiscard. Word of what was happening in France had reached Alfred, and he saw someone who could be a powerful ally or enemy. When he walked up, he saw the naked wench on the bed and did his best to ignore her; he had bigger fish to fry than screwing a French bitch.

“Good afternoon, milord, and thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

“You’re welcome, and if I may be so bold, who are you?”

“Wulfnoth Godwinson, Earl of Wessex, at your service. I have come to discuss some possible sensitive future actions in which we may be of service to each other.”

“And what future actions would you be talking about?” Guiscard asked. He had a good idea what the earl was talking about but didn’t want to tip his hand yet.

“Certain actions the current ruler would find illegal.”

“Look, earl, I am a plain-spoken man, and my patience is wearing thin.”

“Very well. Word has reached the nobles in England of your planned revolt, and we think we can be of service to you and vice versa.”

Guiscard started to turn red, barely believing his plans had made it that far. “How could you help me, and why would I help you?” he growled.

Wulfnoth was tougher than the usual people Guiscard dealt with because he didn’t even flinch at the Frenchman’s anger.

“Simple. When you rebel, where will Philip look for help? Henry IV, maybe. Flanders, unlikely. We believe he will turn to Marion for help. She already hates nobility, and now that Wales has fallen to her, she has the spare troops. She can send a division across the channel, and suddenly you must deal with 12,000 battle-hardened soldiers.”

“Why would Marion help Philip?”

“Trade concessions, land grants, the devil she knows. Who knows what goes on in a wench’s mind?”

Guiscard couldn’t help the chuckle that passed his lips. “I will give you that, but why should we help each other?”

“If we rebel simultaneously, Marion won’t be able to send troops across, and when you win control of France, English merchants get unencumbered and tariff-free trade in all French ports.”

Guiscard’s mind was running at warp speed to figure out how he could game this, and there were many ways. He could promise to rebel at a certain time, then when the time came, do nothing and let the English nobles be crushed, which would weaken Marion for his follow-up attack when he was king. Maybe he could rebel at the chosen time and renege on the deal later, thinking that would do nicely.

Never did he consider how things could go the other way. The English nobles planned to get Guiscard to rebel and Philip to call on Marion to help him. With part of her army away, they could safely rebel and win, returning the English crown to the Godwinson family where it belonged and removing a significant thorn in the noble’s side.

“Would you like a tumble with this wench to seal the deal?” asked Guiscard. The wench wasn’t his, and he certainly didn’t care about her humiliation. “Maybe plant a Saxon in this French wench?”

“I appreciate that; she looks like a good fuck.”

“She is and has only been with one man, me. You see, she was married yesterday, and I hold the rights to the first night.”

“Well, it sounds like we are wasting time,” Wulfnoth said as he started removing his clothes. Guiscard chuckled as he dropped his robe and looked at Amée. Her eyes were filled with the fear he loved to see, and seeing Wulfnoth, he could see why. Wulfnoth was gifted in the man department, and Guiscard knew the wench would hurt after they were done with her.

Wulfnoth walked up to her and yanked her hair until she sat upright. Once she was upright, he punched her in the stomach to make her scream, but when she opened her mouth, he shoved his cock in and down her throat.