Authors: Bertrice Small
“How may I serve you, lord?” she inquired politely.
“Has your memory returned yet, even in part, maiden?” he asked her quietly, his voice both gentle and encouraging.
Aelfa’s light green eyes grew visibly misty. “Alas, my lord, no,” she answered him. “I have tried to remember something of myself, but I cannot. Ohh, what will become of me?”
“It is time that you were wed,” Wulf answered her.
“Wed?”
Aelfa looked startled. This was obviously not something that she had even considered. “You would marry me?”
Cailin hissed angrily. The nerve of the wench!
“Not I,” he said, somewhat startled himself by her words. “I go tomorrow to tour the villages belonging to my holding. Since you can remember nothing of yourself, and we have heard of no lost lasses in the time you have been with us, then it is time for you to begin a new life. As lord of this land, your welfare is my responsibility. I will therefore seek out a good husband for you, and you will be wed as soon as it is possible. Before the summer’s end, I think.”
“But I do not think I want a husband,” Aelfa said nervously.
“Perhaps I already have a husband, my lord. What if that is so?”
“Is it, Aelfa? Do you have a husband?” He pierced her with a sharp look. “Perhaps you have run away from a husband who caught you with a lover and then beat you for your faithlessness.”
“I cannot remember, my lord,” she stubbornly insisted.
“Then,” Wulf said, smiling benignly, “I think it best we find you a good man and resettle you, maiden. Is it agreed?”
For a very long moment Aelfa was silent, and then finally she said, “Yes, my lord, but could you not marry me yourself?”
“One wife is more than enough for me,” he replied with a chuckle. “Eh, lambkin?” He swept a loving look at Cailin by his side.
“You will never need another,” she said quietly.
When Nellwyn learned of the other girl’s fate, she complained to her mistress, “Why is it that Aelfa is to have a husband and I am not? Have I not served you well, my lady?”
“More than well, Nellwyn,” Cailin assured her. “You may have a husband whenever you choose him, unless, of course, you would prefer that my lord and I select a good man for you. Aelfa is alone in the world and needs our aid; but you, Nellwyn, have always had me, and whatever you desire within reason I will give you for your faithful service.”
“When Aelfa first came,” Nellwyn told her mistress, “I thought her nice, but she is not, my lady. She teases the men to distraction.”
“I know,” Cailin replied. “That is why I suggested to my lord that he find her a husband—in Orrford, if possible.”
“Orrford?” Nellwyn giggled. “It is far, my lady, and not very big, and there are so many cows. More than people, I think.”
“Indeed?” Cailin said, a single eyebrow cocked.
“She will have to work very hard,” Nellwyn continued. “Life is harsh is Orrford, and once she is married, she cannot flirt with others.”
“No,” Cailin answered solemnly. “Husbands will take umbrage if a wife flirts with other men, Nellwyn. Aelfa will have to become a very good and most proper wife, won’t she?” She grinned at her servant.
Nellwyn giggled. “I do not think Aelfa will like either that or Orrford, my lady. She pretends to be meek and modest before you and my lord, but her tongue is sharp, and sometimes foul. She is not, I think, what she pretends to be, yet never has she spoken to me of her past. She does not even talk in her sleep, for I have listened.”
“Soon Aelfa will not be our worry any longer,” Cailin said soothingly to Nellwyn. “By summer’s end she will be gone from us to a husband.”
“Good riddance!” Nellwyn said feelingly. “I shall not be sorry to see the back of that one, my lady.”
Cailin suddenly had a flash of intuition. “Is it Albert or Bran-hard you favor, Nellwyn, my lass?” she asked the girl.
Nellwyn blushed to the roots of her yellow hair. “Ohh, my lady! How did you know? ‘Tis Albert, the fool, but he cannot see me for his eyes are too full of Aelfa, though she toys with him, first favoring him and then Bran-hard. Both are confused by her wicked behavior, but ’tis Albert I love.”
“He will have forgotten her by Samain, I promise,” Cailin said to the girl. “Then we will see if he favors a marriage with you.”
Nellwyn’s blue eyes filled with tears. “Oh, my lady, thank you! I would make Albert a good wife. I would. The fool!”
Yes, Cailin thought after her revealing discussion with Nellwyn, the sooner Aelfa was gone from Cadda-wic, the better. Still her conscience nagged at her. Was she being fair, foisting the wench off on some poor unsuspecting young man? Wulf, however, was fully aware of Aelfa’s shortcomings. He would choose the right man. It would be up to the bridegroom to correct Aelfa’s behavior. Cailin hoped he would be strong enough.
Wulf had been gone for over a week when Aelfa disappeared one afternoon. “Has she run away, perhaps?” Cailin wondered aloud.
Aelfa, however, reappeared before the gates were closed that evening. When questioned about her whereabouts, she claimed to have been out berrying.
“You brought no berries back,” Cailin noted sharply.
“I could find none, my lady,” was the meek reply.
“She lies,” Nellwyn said as she and her mistress made their rounds to see that the fires were banked for the night, that the door was bolted, and everything else in the hall was secure. “She had no basket with her, my lady. How could she berry without a basket?”
“She could not,” Cailin answered. “More than likely she was out meeting a lover upon the hillside, the bold wench.”
“Albert and Bran-hard were looking something fierce at each other in the hall at supper, my lady,” Nellwyn reported.
“There is our answer,” Cailin said. “She is setting those two against one another again, but for what purpose I do not know.”
Cailin climbed to the solar where Aurora and Royse were already long asleep. Lifting the baby from his cradle, she fed the half-sleeping infant before finding her own rest. She could not imagine a better life than the one she had.
Wulf. Their children. Cadda-wic
. Sometimes she would glimpse the old marble floor of what had once been her childhood home, and the memories would flood her being. Lately when that happened, she found she was no longer sad. Most of her memories were good ones, and whatever happened, those memories could not be taken from her. She would always have them, and in having them, she would always have her family with her.
Cailin slept, not hearing the bolt to the hall door being drawn softly. The door opened, and then it closed as silently as Aelfa could make it. She stood outside the entry a long minute, listening to the sounds of the night, and then she ran on bare feet across the courtyard to the gatehouse. The waning moon silvered her naked form. She carried a small skin of wine in her hand. Gaining her destination, Aelfa quickly entered the small gatehouse, shutting the door quietly. A smile of derision crossed her face at the sight of the dozing
man on the stool in the corner. What a weakling he was, and his sense of duty was certainly lacking.
Kneeling down next to him, Aelfa kissed Bran-hard’s mouth, startling the man awake. “Did you not want to see me?” she murmured seductively at him, and his eyes widened at her nudity. “I have brought you some fine wine from the lord’s own barrel. It will not ever be missed,” she reassured him, and handed him the full skin. “Have some.” She kissed him quickly a second time.
“Aelfa,” he said in a strangled voice. “You should not be here. Where is your clothing? What if someone should come?”
“Albert would not be so faint of heart,” Aelfa taunted him. “He met me on the hillside today and tried to have his way with me. I fought him off and refused him, for it is you, Bran-hard, that I really want. Let Albert have Nellwyn, who is so cow-eyed over him.” Her small hands reached down and fumbled beneath his tunic. “You are a
real
man! I know you are!” Then she kissed him hard. “Do you not want me, Bran-hard, my big, strong warrior?” Aelfa ran her tongue over her lips seductively.
Bran-hard found, to his surprise, that he was holding his breath. He let it out with a slow hiss as her hands found his manhood and began to play with it. She was skilled beyond any he had ever known. His eyes closed, and pure pleasure such as he had never experienced filled his being. Her little fingers stroked him slowly, lingeringly at first. Then pushing the covering from his battering ram, she worked him swiftly. He began to ache with his great need. “Aelfa,” he groaned hungrily, catching his hand in her hair and drawing her closer to him. “I want you, Aelfa!”
Giggling, she took his cloak and spread it upon the narrow floor of the tiny gatehouse. Laying down upon it, she opened her legs wide and said huskily, “Come, stuff me with that great pole of yours, Bran-hard! You want me every bit as much as I want you! No one will come and find us. All are abed, and we may take our pleasure. As much of it as we like!”
He could not have stopped himself if he had wanted to. She was beautiful, and she was hot for him. No man in his right mind would refuse Aelfa’s plea. With a low cry he fell upon her, pushing his engorged organ into her hot, wet sheath; humping her almost violently while she encouraged him onward, murmuring a soft stream of foul yet madly exciting obscenities into his ear as she writhed wildly beneath him. He was astounded that she would know such words, for she looked so pure, but it lessened his guilt at using her so enthusiastically.
She seemed to fill him with incredible strength, and his lust knew no bounds. He pumped and pumped and pumped himself into her, while Aelfa twisted and moaned beneath him, her little cries arousing him even further. Finally he could no longer contain himself and his passions burst violently within her throbbing body. He collapsed upon her with a groan of satisfaction. “By Woden, wench, you are the best! I have never had better, I swear it!” His oniony breath assailed her.
“Get off me, you oaf,” she said, “you are crushing me.”
He rolled away from her. “Where’s that wine you brought?” he demanded, feeling relaxed now and more in control of the situation. “Let’s have a drink together, and then I’ll give you another bit of a poke if you’re of a mind. You will be, won’t you?” he said with a leering grin. “I’ve never known such a woman as you, Aelfa. You be one of those girls who cannot get enough, aren’t you?” He sat himself back down upon his stool, pulling his garments into some semblance of order again. Then reaching out for her, he drew her near, tweaking the rosy nipples of her full, fat breasts. Her clothing had never given him any indication that she had such fine teats, but they were magnificent.
Rutting fool, Aelfa thought as she smiled up at him. She lifted up the skin of wine and pretended to drink before handing it on to him. “Hmmmm, ’tis good,” she said as he swilled away, some of the purple-red liquid drizzling down into his thick blond beard.
Bran-hard let the sweet, cool liquid run down his throat. It
was the best drink he had ever tasted. Wulf Ironfist lived well. He handed her back the wineskin and began to fondle Aelfa’s big breasts. “You’ve the best pair I’ve ever seen, wench,” he said by way of a compliment, “and your cunt is the tightest of any I’ve ever reamed. I swear it! You really know how to give a man his pleasure, Aelfa. I can hardly believe it, but I’m ready to have at you again. On your back, my girl,” he said, as loosing his organ from his clothing once more, he pushed her down to the floor.
What he lacked in subtlety he more than made up for in endurance and brute strength, Aelfa thought, as she pretended to be overcome with passion. She had taken her own pleasure with him the first time, but now she could not allow herself the luxury. When his lust exploded again and he rolled away from her, she offered him the wineskin once more, smiling encouragingly as he gulped down the potent liquid. This time, within moments, Branhard fell into unconsciousness. Aelfa sighed with her relief. She was actually sore with his enthusiastic attentions. A third bout with him would have certainly rendered her raw.
She rose from the floor of the gatehouse, and after much effort, managed to drag Bran-hard’s limp, heavy body back onto his stool. His shaggy head lay upon his chest. He appeared to be dozing. She slipped from the building and ran quickly back across the courtyard to the hall. Letting herself in, she hurried to her bed space. The hall was quite silent, the contented snores of its inhabitants the only sounds she heard.
Aelfa put on her clothes and then returned to the gatehouse where Bran-hard sat, unconscious. Seating herself upon the floor, where she would not be seen, she waited for the predawn. When it finally came, Aelfa stood up, stretched, and then leaving the gatehouse went directly to the great gates of Cadda-wic. Slowly and with great difficulty, she pushed the heavy bar that lay across one of the gates to one side. Above her the sky was quickly lightening. Perspiration, half due to exertion, half to fear of discovery, rolled down her back as she struggled with the bar. When at last she succeeded,
the single door swung open to reveal a large party of armed men.
“Uncle,” Aelfa said archly. “Welcome to Cadda-wic.”
“You have done well, niece,” Ragnar Strongspear said, and then led his men quietly through the gates into the courtyard. “Where is the mistress of the hall? And how long before Wulf Ironfist’s return?”
“Cailin sleeps in the solar with her children,” Aelfa replied. “As for her husband, he should return in a few days’ time, I expect.”
“Secure this place,” Ragnar said to his second-in-command, Harald, and then he turned back to Aelfa. “Fetch the lady Cailin to me, girl, and her children, too. I will want food also.”
“Yes, Uncle,” Aelfa said. She hurried off back into the hall to do his bidding, only realizing too late that Cailin always drew the ladder to the solar up each night. There was no other way into the room but through the trapdoor. As Ragnar strode into the hall, she ran back to him and explained the dilemma.
“No matter,” he said. “She must come down eventually, and I will be waiting for her. The lady Cailin is a most toothsome wench.”
“You desire her?”
Aelfa was surprised. She thought Cailin far too prim and proper for her lusty uncle. She was also too old, being past twenty.