Chapter 1

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 wasn’t sure. As my stomach knotted violently a second time to make sure any residual breakfast was expelled, I realized the reason didn’t matter. I also 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, 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 had purchased 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 meeting was to discuss increasing our export of wool to Brabant. Imagine my surprise when my Earl asked the Duke’s 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 at 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 our 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 done business in 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 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 Earl’s cloak with his crest on it as a reminder of my betrayal, not that I thought I’d ever forget.

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 had 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.

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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, a decision 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. Never before had I 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 had 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 any 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 a pair of 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. I explained to the wagon maker, “As a trader, I frequently have very valuable goods to transport.” Fortunately, the wagon maker not only had what I wanted, but also had four sturdy horses. I knew two would be enough, but preferred to be safe rather than sorry. There was no telling when we might have to transport a heavy load, or if one of the horses might come up lame. Also, the travel carriage had been constructed from oak, making it heavier than if cheaper woods had been used.

I paid to have heavier crossbars installed inside 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 inside 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 wooden 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.

Two narrow beds folded out from the same wall just like the table. Both had woven leather for the bedding to rest 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 to 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 for use 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 belongings 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 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 returned here immediately, looking for me. If they did, they would probably assume I headed north or south to a city 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 ate 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 while 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 had finally allowed 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 for 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.

Chapter 2 »