Chapter 6: Raiders!

Returning the binos to my own eyes I scrutinised the longboat below me. It was full of men, most of them manning oars but a number in the prow of the boat, gazing forward. I estimated there were about eighty of them, similar in size perhaps to the Scots I had so far come across but looking wider across the shoulder. There were beards everywhere, every one of them had one, and they wore their hair long. I had thought that the horned helmets were probably a fiction of filmmakers but here I could see that is was not as many were in evidence.

The men wore leather jerkins and loose fitting trousers. The side of the boat had round shields hanging over it and as I watched I could see a man in the stern beat a drum, presumably to provide a cadence for the stroke of the oars. I kept the binos on them until they were far away to the Northwest.

"God help us," I thought, "some of my ancestors look as if they've got trouble heading their way."

I questioned Kirsty closely about the habits of the raiders. The last thing I needed was to be caught by a marauding Viking. She explained that they tended to descend on coastal communities, killing the men, taking the women and generally creating havoc and mayhem. They were particularly vicious towards religious communities she explained and their calling card was to leave the severed heads of those killed stuck on poles for all to see.

No one was safe apparently and the lordly ones had no luck in tracking them down either. They descended, killed, raped, burned and left before any organised resistance or punitive measures could be affected. Kirsty explained that they had a hosting season - mainly the spring, summer and early autumn - when they were most active. I let all the information sink in and decided to let my subconscious work on what to do about them. Meanwhile I whispered to her that we should back away from the cliff edge and return into the trees. My thoughts about finding somewhere to make a permanent base on the coast were suddenly altered. It would be too dangerous.

While there was still light we mounted up and I took a bearing on the compass for the area around a hill on my map called Cruach Lusach. It looked as if a different finger of the sea penetrated into the mainland here, much thinner and perhaps a more likely place for us to find somewhere to set up. The journey took us perhaps an hour and a half and there was still enough sunlight here to investigate the shoreline, quickly finding a cave that was big enough for our needs, its floor thick with sand.

We tethered the horses under some trees where there was sufficient grass for them to graze on. I knew next to nothing about caring for horses and wasn't sure whether they needed any particular kind of feed. They seemed okay for the present and I resolved to ask Kirsty - a farm-maid after all - whether they would need special feed at some point.

Kirsty was already gathering ferns to make another bed in this new cave and I set to as well, gathering firewood and searching for some birch trees to replenish my store of tinder. I wandered a little further from the cave than I had the previous evening, searching for birch, and I came across a small meadow in the midst of the forest. There were signs that this meadow was a haunt of game, deer perhaps, as there was a worn path running into it towards where a small lochan stood at the other end. I filed this at the back of my head as possibly useful information; perhaps I could come up with a way of bringing down a deer.

When I returned to the cave Kirsty had finished picking fern and had already made up a bed as before with her plaid and the sleeping bag. She was excitedly looking through the remaining contents of my rucksack, holding up item after item, peering at them before setting each aside. I dropped the wood and turned to find stones to ring a fire, leaving her to play amongst my stuff like a kid at Christmas.

As I was gathering the stones it occurred to me that my anticipation of bedtime was significantly different to the previous evening. My nervousness was gone and instead I was eager for the light to go so that I could cuddle up to my beautiful highlander. I also decided that it was time I had a bath and a shave, Kirsty could use one too and I thought scrubbing each other's back might be an interesting exercise. When I returned to the cave I prepared a fire pit and used some of my new stock of tinder to get a fire going. I suggested the idea of a bath to Kirsty but she didn't seem keen. My changing attitude must have been really developing because in response to her lack of enthusiasm I simply slung her over my shoulder, grabbed my wash bag, marched to the water's edge and dumped her in.

"Okay, so it's the caveman approach now!" I laughed to myself. "Move into a cave and adopt the persona!"

Kirsty was not amused! I dropped my bag and quickly stripped off, grabbing my shower gel and joining her in the water. She leapt at me, obviously intent on scratching my eyes out but I dropped the gel and caught both of her wrists, managing to hold her off.

"Calm down lassie, calm down now."

She continued to struggle so I pulled her close and held her as I kissed her. That seemed to calm her struggling a bit and soon she relaxed in my arms, warming to the deep kiss and to my hand now rubbing her breast. The cold water had raised her nipples and I could feel one through her blouse, diamond-like and crying out to be rubbed. I backed us into slightly shallower water, broke off the kiss and turned her so her back was towards me as I sat down. I moved both hands to the front of her blouse, opening it to gain access to her bare breasts while I pushed her hair from her neck with my nose and began to gently kiss her neck. She moaned, no longer trying to escape or attack me but instead helping me to remove her blouse completely.

The shower gel fortuitously bumped against my foot and I snagged it, dragging it towards me until it was within reach. Leaning back I let her hair soak in the water before squeezing some gel into my palm and applying it to her hair. It didn't foam up as much as I was used to but there was enough lather to work with so I rubbed handfuls of her hair against each other until it was all covered. I rinsed her hair and then squeezed more gel into my hand, applying it to her neck, face and finally her breasts, working the lather and glorying in the slippery feel of her perfectly formed breasts. By now she was moaning contentedly in my lap.

I pushed her forward and applied more gel to her back. Her skin was flawless, smooth but currently covered in goosebumps. Reaching down I tried to loosen her soaking kilt but struggled to do so until she came to my aid, loosening it and throwing it towards the bank. I backed up again until we were barely in the water before rubbing gel over her little patch of pubic hair, working up a lather there too and washing her slit, all the way down to her rosebud. Kirsty began bucking in my lap from this attention and I let my fingers dwell in her slit, my thumb strumming her clit.

I kept my stroking up until she climaxed, once more it didn't take long, then let her recover before asking her to stand so I could wash both her legs. What fine legs they were. Not too thick and not too thin, coltish rather and certainly a delight to run my hands over. Rinsing her off I decided that we had been in the cold water long enough. I stood and picked her up, walking back to the shore where I deposited her and stooped to get my plaid, wrapping it round her shivering form. I picked up her clothes and mine and put my arm round her shoulders as we walked back to the cave.

Sitting Kirsty in front of the fire, I rung out the worst of the water from her blouse and kilt and used two branches to stretch them out on the other side of the fire to dry. Boiling water in the billycan, I made up one of the freeze-dried meals and fed it to her. She looked at the bag suspiciously and then with amazement when I poured the chicken casserole back into the billy. Her face was a picture as she responded to the first mouthful, her taste buds unused to the rich flavourings in the meal. Nonetheless she obviously enjoyed it and proceeded to wolf the thing down as fast as I could feed it to her.

I made do with the last of the rabbit and then cursed myself as I realised I hadn't set any snares. It was dark outside and I knew there was little point in trying now but chided myself to not forget again - it could mean the difference between having food and not having food. When I finished the rabbit I looked at her. Her hair was positively gleaming in the firelight after the wash and removing the grime from her face showed it to be now much more in keeping with her age - she looked fifteen. I reached over and stroked her cheek softly with my fingers.

"I can't believe it is possible but you look even more beautiful now. Your hair shines and your skin, your eyes, your lips make me wonder why god blessed you with the very best of his creation only to leave you as a farm-maid. He surely has never fashioned anything to compare to you, nor will he."

A tear formed in her eye but she smiled at me.

"Flatterer, deceiver." She said quietly.

I reached for my washbag and got the small shaving mirror I kept there. I held it up so she could see her hair and face and she gasped, her hand rising to her hair, her fingers running through it. She let her hand trail over her cheek and over her sensuous lips, enthralled by her reflection. I worried that I would create a monster and quickly put the mirror away.

"There, you have the evidence of your beauty, I do not expect you to argue the point with me again." I smiled as I said this, my growing love for this young woman surely evident in my eyes.

"I'm sorry Scott but I grow tired. Can we go to bed now?"

I agreed, a little disappointed that it looked unlikely we would have repeat of the previous evening but content just to lie beside her. We crawled under the sleeping bag and huddled together, spooned - me up against her back, my nose buried in her hair. I felt her little hand drop between us and she took hold of my cock again before falling quickly asleep. I smiled. She almost seemed to do this as a comforter, but hey, who was I to complain!