Authors: Bertrice Small
The two girls ran off, and Cailin then told the remaining women, “Go about your duties as you normally would. If Wulf Ironfist does not come today, then you must hide here
again tonight. I will not be able to come for you when the time is right. You must help yourselves. It is all I can do to stay out of Ragnar Strongspear’s clutches.”
The trespasser and his men finally awoke and stumbled from the hall to relieve themselves. Cailin and her women swept the hall free of debris and all signs of sickness. Fresh rushes were laid, mixed with fragrant herbs. The morning meal was served, but eaten by few before being cleared away.
Ragnar sat at the high board, a large goblet of wine gripped in his fist. “Where are your men?” he demanded of Cailin.
“I do not know,” she said. “I thought, perhaps, that you had locked them up somewhere. When I awoke this morning, they were gone. If they knew a means of escape, I am angry at them that they did not take me with them,” she concluded, and her irritated tone convinced him more than her words that she was speaking the truth.
He nodded. “Very well. I see your women have returned.”
“I sent them into safe keeping for the night,” Cailin answered tartly. “I will have no rape or abuse of the women in my charge. Where is Aelfa? I have not seen your niece all morning.”
“She is to marry Harald at Lugh. They are probably somewhere making the beast with two backs. Aelfa is a very passionate girl.”
“She has the morals of a mink,” Cailin observed dryly.
“Aye, she does,” Ragnar said with a hearty laugh. “I have warned Harald that she will make him a very bad wife, but he is determined to have her, so what can I do? My brother has given his permission for the marriage. I could not withhold mine.”
The remainder of the day seemed to pass more slowly than any day she could remember. As the sun began to set, Cailin was pleased to see that the women had all disappeared once again. She hurried to reach the solar before Ragnar Strongspear could find and stop her. Her breasts were near to bursting with her milk, and it was already leaking through her clothing once more. Quickly climbing the ladder, she pulled
it up behind her, closing and bolting the door. She shoved the clothing chests atop the door and sighed, relieved. Stripping off her garments, she reached for the basin and began to relieve herself of the pressure that was making her breasts ache so unbearably. Where was Wulf? If he didn’t come soon, her milk would finally run dry. Then she would have to give her precious Royse to some other woman to nurse.
“What are you doing?”
The sound of Ragnar Strongspear’s voice rendered her icy with fear. Her eyes widened as he climbed from her bed space. “How did you get in here?” she demanded. Her heart was beating wildly.
“I climbed the ladder,” he said simply, and she silently cursed her stupidity that she had not hidden it. “What are you doing?” he repeated, his dark blue eyes sweeping admiringly over her lush form.
It was then Cailin recalled her state. She was naked before this man’s eyes, but it was done and there was no helping it. “I must express the milk from my breasts,” she said, “as my son is not here to take its nourishment.” Her voice was cold and emotionless.
A slow smile lit his face, and moving to stand before her, he clamped his big hands about her waist. Lifting her up, he positioned her so that her breasts hung over his face. Then lowering her slightly, he began to suckle upon her.
It was to Cailin’s mind as great a violation of her body as if he had raped her, which she knew he fully intended to do next.
“Don’t!”
she cried out, anguished, but it was as if she had never spoken. She writhed desperately, but the mouth on her breast could not be dislodged.
When he had drained the first breast, he looked into her eyes with a smile. “I like the taste,” he told her. “It is said that if a man takes the milk of his lover’s breasts, he is rendered potent beyond any other man.” Then his greedy mouth grasped her other breast and he began suckling hard on it. When he had taken every drop she had to give, he carried her to the bed space and threw her roughly upon the feather bed.
She watched horrified as he pulled his clothing off to match her state. “I’ve never had a completely naked woman,” he said.
Cailin attempted to escape the bed space. She was in a total panic. Ragnar laughed uproariously at her efforts. Holding her down with one hand, he climbed atop her, positioning himself upon her breasts. “Open your mouth,” he commanded her, and when she shook her head, refusing, he pinched her nose tightly until, unable to breathe and starting to lose consciousness, Cailin gasped for air. As she did so, he thrust his organ into her mouth. “If you bite,” he warned her, “I will have every tooth in your head pulled out,” and she believed him. “Suckle me, my little fox vixen, as nicely as I suckled you,” he ordered her.
She shook her head in the negative, but he only smiled, and reaching back, found her little jewel with his fingers and began to pinch it cruelly. Cailin cried out with the pain, and beaten, began to comply with his desire.
“Ahh, yes, my little fox vixen,” he groaned as she stirred up his lust. “You’re skilled beyond any I’ve ever known!” His eyes closed with his pleasure.
Cailin stealthily moved her arms back over her head even as she continued to tease her captor with her tongue. One hand began to surreptitiously feel beneath the feather bed in the straw. She moved carefully, slowly, terrified that she might attract his attention to what she was doing.
Where was it? Had he found it himself?
“Enough!” roared Ragnar Strongspear, drawing his engorged organ from her mouth. “This randy fellow wants to seek his proper place!” He began to slide himself down her body so he might couple with her.
She couldn’t find it!
Cailin’s fingers sought desperately.
It had to be there!
She must delay him in his intent. “Ohhh, my lord,” she pleaded prettily with him, “Will you not give me a bit of the same pleasure I have given you? Ohh, please! I must have it!”
Laughter rumbled up from his chest. “Then you shall have
your desire, my russet-haired little fox vixen! I will not disappoint you!” Yanking her legs apart, he almost dove between them.
Cailin attempted to block the feel of his wet tongue on her flesh. Frantic, she dug into the straw beneath the feather bed, and just when she was certain that he must have found it and removed it earlier, her hand was sliced slightly by the blade she sought. Relief pouring through her, Cailin grasped the weapon, ignoring the pain of her wound. “Ohhh! Ohhh!” she cried, remembering he would expect something of her for his obscene efforts. “Oh, it is good! I am ready for you, my lord!”
Wordless, Ragnar Strongspear positioned himself.
“Ohh, kiss me!” Cailin cried to him, and when he leaned forward to cover her mouth with his, she plunged her knife several times into his back. With a surprised grunt, he rolled off of her onto his back. He was wounded, but not mortally so, she saw. “Bitch!” he growled at her. “You’ll pay for that!”
Cailin quickly straddled him, grasped his head by the hair, and yanking it back, swiftly cut Ragnar Strongspear’s throat. The look of total amazement in his eyes faded so rapidly that she wasn’t even certain she had actually seen it. She scrambled off of him and stood shivering, staring down at the dead man, not even sure he was really dead. She was afraid for a long moment that he would jump up, but no. He was dead. Very dead. She had killed Ragnar Strongspear.
She had killed a man
.
Cailin began to weep softly with relief. When at last her sobs subsided, she became aware of the fact that she was covered in blood.
His blood
. She shuddered with distaste, and forcing herself to function, moved across the solar, poured water into a basin and washed, washed, washed, until finally she was clean again. Being clean and having fresh garments seemed to help a little. She avoided looking across the room to the bed space where Ragnar Strongspear lay sprawled in a widening pool of his own blood. Instead she sat down by her loom, eventually dozing with exhaustion, until the birds, twittering excitedly in the predawn, roused her. Starting
awake, Cailin remembered what had happend the previous night.
What was she going to do? When Ragnar’s men discovered that she had killed their master, and they certainly would, they would kill her. She would never see Wulf and their children again. Nervous tears began to slide down her pale cheeks.
No!
She would not allow herself to be slaughtered like a frightened rabbit.
Perhaps she could escape Cadda-wic before Ragnar’s body was discovered. It was very early, and no one was stirring in the hall. She could climb down, and then she would hide the ladder to the solar. Everyone would assume Ragnar was sleeping off the excesses of his night’s sport. She would rouse the other women, and together they would all slip through the gates on one pretext or another.
No! It simply wouldn’t work. There were too many of them not to seem suspicious. She couldn’t leave the other women behind to face the violent wrath of Ragnar Strongspear’s men. She would go and fetch the two girls hidden in the bake house. They would join the other women beneath the grain storage barn. Yes! That was a far better plan. No one would find them there, and surely Wulf would come soon.
Cailin pushed the chests from atop the door and, sliding the bolt, opened it, and lowered the ladder before her. Drawing the door softly shut after her, she swiftly descended into the hall. Where would she hide the ladder? Cailin wondered. She would throw it down the well! She could never go back into the solar again. Not after what had happened to her there last night. A hand fell heavily upon her shoulder, and unable to help herself, Cailin screamed softly with her terror.
“Lambkin!
It is I.”
She whirled, heart pounding, and Wulf Ironfist stood before her. Beyond them in the hall, Ragnar Strongspear’s men stood shackled and surrounded by their own people. “Ohh, Wulf,” she sobbed, collapsing with relief into his arms. After a moment she stiffened and, pulling away from him, she queried, “How did you get into Cadda-wic? Were the walls not manned by Ragnar Strongspear’s men?”
“We got in the same way our men got out the other night. There is a small trapdoor in one of the gatehouses. It leads to a narrow tunnel beneath our defenses, lambkin. I sent Corio back for the men. They departed the other night by means of that tunnel. Then they told me in detail of Ragnar Strongspear’s defenses. We returned this dawning the same way and took back Cadda-wic.”
“Why did I not know of this tunnel?” Cailin demanded, outraged. “I had to hide our women in the cellar beneath the grain barns to keep them safe from these intruders. Why was I not told of it?”
“Corio sent Albert to look for you, lambkin, but you had disappeared. Albert had no choice but to go with the others,” Wulf explained, but Cailin would not have any of it.
“He might have told one of the women,” she insisted, forgetting that she herself had hidden the women away for safety’s sake. “I had to barricade myself in the solar to escape the unpleasant attentions of Ragnar Strongspear. Would you have had me wandering the hall, playing the gracious hostess to that savage pig?” She was furious.
“But you did not escape my uncle last night,” Aelfa said meanly, coming forward, a nasty smile upon her beautiful face. “You look quite well, considering the active night you must have had beneath my uncle.”
“I will kill him if he has touched you!” Wulf Ironfist said angrily.
“I already have,” Cailin told him bluntly, and Aelfa grew pale at her words. “He did not rape me, my lord, though he sought to do so.”
“How could you have killed so large a man, lambkin?” her husband gently inquired. Was she truly all right? he wondered.
“I slit his throat,” Cailin said tonelessly.
“With what?”
he asked. The gods! She was so pale.
“The voice within would not stop nagging at me,” she began. “I do not know why I did it, but when you departed to visit our villages, I put a knife beneath the feather bed in our bed space. When he climbed atop me, I found it and I killed
him. There was so much blood, Wulf! I can never sleep in that solar again.
Ever!”
She began to weep.
He comforted her as best he could, and when she had ceased to sob, he told her, “I have much news, lambkin, and it is good.” Then seeing the darkling stain spreading across her tunic dress, he cried out, “Lambkin, are you injured?”
Cailin looked down and laughed weakly. “I need Royse,” she said. “My breasts are overflowing with my milk.”
“Nellwyn will have him here shortly,” he promised her, and put a loving arm about her. “Aurora too.”
“How devoted you are to each other,” Aelfa sneered, “but what is to become of us, I should like to know?”
“Her memory has returned, I take it,” Wulf said with a small attempt at humor. They walked into the hall and seated themselves at the high board. Aelfa followed, but positioned herself next to Harald.
“She never lost her memory,” Cailin told him. “Let me tell you a story that I learned as a child. In ancient times a Grecian king named Menelaeus had a beautiful queen who was called Helen. The king was old, but he loved his wife. The queen, however, was young, and she fell in love with a handsome youth, Paris. They fled to his father’s city of Troy. A war between Troy and several powerful Grecian states erupted over the insult to Menelaeus and his efforts to regain Helen, the beauteous queen.
“Troy, however, was considered impregnable. Enormous high walls surrounded it. There was a goodly supply of fresh water and food. For many years the Greeks besieged it, but they could not take the city. Finally they agreed to cease their war with Troy, and as a gesture of peace, the departing Greek armies left a magnificent large, carved, and decorated horse on wheels behind for the Trojans. The citizens of Troy opened their gates and brought the horse into the city. All day they celebrated their victory over Menelaeus and his allies.
“In the dark of the night, when all lay sleeping, the Greek army, which had secreted itself within the belly of the Trojan horse, came forth and took the city of Troy, showing no mercy. All were killed, and the city destroyed.