Connecticut Vampire in King Arthur's Court

by Hall, Ian

  The servant simply shook his head. “They’re the King’s men.”

  “Who’s in charge?”

  My question got met with shrugged shoulders.

  “Mistress Phillipa?”

  “She’s in the gatehouse.”

  “The Lady Jane?”

  “In the gatehouse.”

  Damn. The only two remaining people who could have shed any light were under guard.

  I decided to wait until the darkness of night, when one of the women would hopefully return to the castle for food or sleep.

  Abigail sat in the chapel, and I filled her in with my rather sketchy details.

  “I took a spin around the guards,” she said. “They’re King’s men right enough, under the command of a Baron from down Windsor way.”

  “Damn.”

  “They’re obviously here to ensure Catherine’s not touched while they wait to see if she’s pregnant.”

  After my almost-forced tryst, I really couldn’t blame them. But I did give a thought to Eleanor’s situation. “Arthur fathered a child with one of the staff.”

  Abigail looked instantly alert. “Oh, my goodness. Who?”

  “A girl called Eleanor, it sort of happened by mistake, but it’s definitely his child.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Sir Gruffydd took her to some unknown convent in Wales.”

  Abigail nodded. “Good. She needed to be out of the situation here.”

  I took Abigail up to the inner tower and settled her into Eleanor’s old room for the night, then waited in the kitchen for news of the gatehouse.

  The outside lay black dark before someone approached.

  “Mistress Phillipa!” I darted to her side.

  “It’s not good, Master DeVere,” she said, her face flushed and annoyed. “They’ve got the King’s papers right enough, but their leader, the Baron, he’s a filthy thing.”

  “In what way?”

  “Well, when he’s alone with any of us, me, Lady Jane, Lady Meacham, he says the oddest things; dirty things, you know, about what he’d like to do to us.”

  She stopped, biting her tongue.

  “Yes, Phillipa?”

  “Well, Master DeVere, this last time, just before I left.” She looked from side to side. “He pushed me against a wall and, well, he stuck his hand right up my dress. Now, I ain’t no prude, Master DeVere, but that weren’t proper!”

  I led her into the kitchen proper, and ensured that she ate, and that food got taken down to the gatehouse for both the guards and the captives within.

  I had been put in a difficult situation right enough, and it had all been of my own making. I had indeed built my house with straw, and I’d been caught by the wolf before I could fix it. I certainly had no political power against a baron.

  But I was a vampire.

  I dressed myself in the darkest clothes I had, and with only a knife stuck in my belt, I skirted the dark battlements, listening into any conversations I could.

  Nothing much.

  I got outside the castle, and set about scaling the walls of the gatehouse, but it seemed that every curtain had been drawn, and no sound came from behind any of the windows.

  With some annoyance, I went back to my room and forced myself to sleep.

  The next morning brought a thread of hope; I watched from the castle wall as Sir Gruffydd arrived, and had a fair set to with the guards. They let him inside, but when he’d ridden to my position, he still looked pretty mad.

  “King’s men,” he said, getting down from the saddle. “And not the nicest, either.”

  “They have the women all locked up,” I said.

  “Who’s inside?”

  “Phillipa, Jane, Meacham, and the Princess, of course. Phillipa has been the only one to get out so far.”

  He shook his head. “But with the death of Prince Arthur, we have no authority here.”

  “The Princess?” I hoped I’d found a spark of hope.

  “Less power than you, dear Richard.” He shook his head. “She’s just a commodity now, a pawn in the political struggle between powers. If she’s pregnant, she’ll be fine. If she’s not, she’ll be an outcast. Neither England nor Spain will want her.”

  “But surely her father will want her back?”

  But again, he shook his head. “She’s lost her bargaining power. They might try and latch her onto Prince Henry, but he’s only ten years old.”

  I thought of telling him the future of King Henry the Eighth, but smiled wryly, and held my tongue.

  “Have you spoke to the man in charge?” I asked.

  “No, just the guards.”

  “Then maybe we should go further up the food chain?”

  We both strode across the grass to the gatehouse, firm in our resolve. We’d demand to see the paperwork, and the man in charge.

  But of course, the guards saw us approach, and we were met in force, six men now stood at the back door.

  “We demand to see your leader,” Sir Gruffydd said, his voice cutting across the silence between us.

  “The Baron don’t take kindly…”

  “I am Sir Gruffydd Rhys, knighted by the King himself!” he bawled, and the men physically flinched.

  The leader sent a man inside. “We wait.”

  Less than a minute later, we were admitted into the gatehouse, and into the main living room. “The Baron will be with you shortly.”

  I heard movement from upstairs and stood, looking at the mess that had already been caused in this once-pristine building.

  “You worked wonders here, Richard,” Gruffydd looked around.

  “Sir Harry Vernon proved more than generous.”

  We both grinned.

  Then, the noise of heavy boots on the stairs.

  The door opened, and in walked Keith Fallon, from Boston, New England. I could hardly maintain myself from flying over the room at him.

  “Baron,” I said softly.

  “Or just Exeter for short,” Keith said, his voice thick with emphasis. “At least give the whole title, Richard.”

  Sir Gruffydd gave him as much service. “What’s the meaning of this, Baron? Why the closed doors? We were policing this ourselves.”

  “Ha!” he roared. “Yes, and how well you ‘policed’ it! I arrive here to find the Princess has no guards, and has already been plowed by you two!”

  I made to protest, but shut my mouth quickly, and looked at Sir Gruffydd, who looked tongue-tied to say the least.

  “Oh, yes, don’t think I don’t know your dirty secret, gentlemen!” Keith waved a paper under Sir Gruffydd’s nose. “I have a royal sanction to defend the Princess’s virtue at all costs. I may have arrived here too late to stop you taking advantage of such a poor, helpless creature, but I’ll be damned if I’m turning her back to you!”

  “And you’ll ‘guard’ her any better?” I bellowed.

  “I’ll guard her as well as you did, tutor!” He moved to allow guards to enter. “Throw these two outside! If they put up a fight, pig-stick them!”

  There seemed little point in starting anything. Although I could have taken most of them out of the game, there were just far too many pointy objects in the area for complete comfort.

  Under the most casual protest, I allowed myself to be led from the building. “You haven’t heard the last of this!” I called back to him.

  “What now?” I asked Sir Gruffydd as we strode towards the castle.

  Initially, the sound made little sense to me.

  Shhd!

  A pain in my lower back.

  Shhd!

  This time the pain had spread to my stomach. I looked down to see two crossbow bolts protruding from my belly.

  I winced from the searing agony that spread from the wounds. I fell backwards onto the ground, causing the bolts to buckle and twist inside me. I cried out in agony.

  Then the Baron of Exeter stood over me, a wry smile on his face. “I just couldn’t trust you, Richard. You’d have come back, maybe b
eat me in a fair fight. I’m not fair.”

  And he put his boot on my belly and pushed at the bolts.

  As the earth rumbled under my body and the sky above turned yellow, my eyes clouded, and I knew no more.

  May 4th 1502

  Tied and Helpless

  I awoke to a red cloud over my eyes. Rage or blood, I initially knew not the difference. Slowly I opened my encrusted lids.

  Naked.

  Of course, the perverted part of Keith Fallon would have stripped me for my final humiliation and execution.

  Tied and spread-eagled, yet standing up. An interesting pose.

  I recognized the room instantly. I stood in the Princess’s bedchamber, although ‘standing’ is not exactly how I’d describe my position. My wrists were bound high and wide above me, tied to the top posts of the four-posted bed. My ankles tied similarly, at the base of the bed, spread wide, facing the bed and the pillows. I wondered what theatre show he would make me watch before he slipped a piece of wood through my ribs into my heart.

  I could guess.

  I turned my head, craning my neck painfully. The room seemed to be empty.

  Pulled past my open teeth lay a metal bar, tied in place with thick wadding. I couldn’t make a sound if I tried.

  I gave my bonds a good pull, but they flexed no more than a half inch, then held me solid; Keith Fallon hadn’t wasted his time.

  Thick velvet curtains were drawn across the windows, and candles sat in place around the bed, so I had no idea of the time of day.

  I had no doubt that I would be the sole audience to his perverted bed sports, and the bed, immediately in front of me, would be the well-lit stage.

  I stood this way for a while, then heard footsteps on the staircase, and Fallon’s voice.

  The door opened. “Just walk inside, ladies, your Majesty.” Smarmy and bastard-like to the very end.

  It came as no surprise when Phillipa walked into the room, dressed only in a thin chemise, her legs quite visible in the shirt that didn’t quite drop to mid-thigh. Considering the conservative dressing of the age, this looked like the beginnings of a modern wet T-shirt competition.

  Her face looked calm and self-controlled, her eyes looked downward at the smooth wooden floor; so, under vampire influence then.

  Lady Jane followed, similarly clothed, her nipples poking at the chemise, her smooth and familiar thighs catching my gaze under the ripped material. I knew tears crept into my eyes, but I couldn’t help it, I’d known from the first time I’d met Fallon in this era that this day would arrive, and damn me if I also knew he’d use my own emotional ties against me.

  Behind Lady Jane walked Princess Catherine, her eyes cast similarly downward, and to my growing consternation, dressed the same. Such a terrible thing for such an august Princess to be brought down to such a level.

  I longed to insert my vocal outrage into the room, but the iron bar tied in place prevented me from doing anything. I shook my head at the scene before me.

  “What’s wrong, Richard?” Fallon entered after the Princess, wearing only a shirt and tights, pushing the ladies towards the bed, making the room kinda busy. “Cat got your tongue?” He laughed at his own joke. “On the bed, ladies, don’t linger by the door. Come on, get up on the bed.”

  I wondered what had happened to Lady Meacham, perhaps at forty, just a little old for the festivities.

  The three ladies got onto the high bed, they all unintentionally flashed their pussies as they arranged themselves, the shirts were so short.

  “Now, Richard.” Fallon slowly took off his shirt, then rolled his thick tights down his legs, leaving him naked. “Let’s get this show on the road.” He carefully crept over Phillipa and nestled between Catherine and Jane. “Who shall we have first?”

  I shook my head and flexed at the bonds one more time, seemingly just to give Fallon the satisfaction of seeing my rage, but I couldn’t help it, I’d seen it in the movies lots of times. I knew what came next, and I wasn’t going to like one moment of it.

  “Who shall we start with?” he leered at me. “Touch me, ladies.”

  Six small hands crept onto his naked body, and in seconds got the desired effect from this master of bastard-ness. I closed my eyes.

  “Oh no, dear Richard, don’t do that,” Fallon warned, and I looked to see. “A knife had appeared in his right hand, now pointed at the breast of Lady Jane. “If you close your eyes for as much as a second, or look away for any reason, I’ll start pig-sticking these gorgeous ladies until they’re human colanders. Get it?”

  I looked at him, right in the eyes; my ‘I’ll get you one day’ look. Then nodded.

  “Good man.” He smiled, but it held no warmth. “Now, Phillipa, get the shirt off, and crawl over here and get started on this.” He pointed to his dick.

  I’ll give him his due, he had them totally under control.

  Mistress Phillipa, always my ally in Ludlow, pulled the thin chemise over her head, and crawled over my Lady Jane, grabbing the member of this idiot bastard from Boston. Her considerable bosom, dangled below her, brushing against Lady Jane’s bare legs. I couldn’t help see the sex unfolding before me in the bed.

  “Your mouth, Phillipa, dear,” Fallon said, and the event unfolded just as I thought it might. “Why not use your mouth?”

  Phillipa needed no further encouragement, and Fallon fixed his gaze on me.

  “You see, Richard, I’ve primed all these ladies already.” I gritted my teeth against the bar in rage, and I felt my vampire canines snap into place over the wet metal. “I couldn’t help but smell your recent dalliance with the Princess, here.” He began to pet her hair, each time pulling her head closer to his. “How long have you been fucking the wife of your charge, you condescending hypocrite?”

  I shook my head, longing to explain the extenuating circumstances. In frustration, I closed my eyes, and held my head high.

  “Ah, Richard,” Fallon snapped. “Remember the rules.”

  I opened my eyes in time to see him slide the thin blade slowly into Phillipa’s side. She never ceased her oral ministrations, despite whatever pain she felt. Slowly, one inch, then two slid into her skin, the blade now far beyond her ribs.

  “Look away again, Richard, and she’ll be your first victim.”

  I nodded, my eyes misty with rage.

  “Shirts off, ladies.” He again fixed my gaze. “Let Master DeVere see the tits he’s loved.”

  Four more breasts came into view, all of which I’d touched at one point. As Fallon began to kiss Catherine, his tongue lashing all over her face, he felt blindly for Jane’s breast, cupping then squeezing the teat roughly. “Now they belong to me, poor Richard.”

  “No!” I roared into the gag, but just succeeded in making a low moaning noise.

  Disengaging himself from his Spanish Princess, he turned his attention to Jane. My Lady Jane. To my disgust and dismay, she eagerly accepted his kisses, and turned to him for more, his fingers now pulling coarsely on her nipple, his fingers searching between her far too easily parted legs.

  “See how enthusiastically her mouth moves to me.” Fallon broke his kiss and gloated. To my vexation, Lady Jane tried to re-engage the kiss as he spoke. “Imagine how her mouth will please me when I get tired of poor bleeding Phillipa?”

  I couldn’t help it. The scene before me looked bad enough, but I knew what came further down the pike, and I closed my eyes and railed against the ties that held me so tight.

  “Warned you before!”

  No!

  The bastard had pushed the ladies away from him, and with his fingers twisted in her hair, lifted Phillipa’s head from his lap.

  He stuck the knife hard in her chest, forcing it home into her heart.

  She gasped, a croaking, dry cough, then her eyes swiftly closed. Fallon pushed her aside so roughly, she got thrown over Princess Catherine, and hitting the wall, and fell still on the floor.

  Blood now covered his lower body.

  Then the shi
mmer came.

  For once I embraced it, folding myself into it.

  As the floor shook, and the ceiling rippled above me, I pulled with my hands with all my might. And the bonds gave way! Just slightly, but an inch. As the hard tremor hit the room, I pulled again. Another inch. Then another.

  Suddenly, in the midst of the shimmer, my hands burst free. Like the Hulk escaping from prison, I roared against the injustice and tore the ragged rope from my wrists.

  I leant forward onto the bed, clawing for some purchase, but the storm began to calm, and my fingers found only bedclothes.

  When the shimmer ceased, Fallon stood on the pillows, his back against the wall, his body just out of my reach. He’d pulled my Lady Jane to him, holding her tight, the knife at her throat.

  But the shimmer hadn’t released the bonds at my ankles, and although my body looked free, I felt still bound to the spot.

  But Fallon now looked less confident, although he managed a nervous laugh.

  I pulled at the Princess’s legs, pulling her naked body off the bed and behind me. I couldn’t help but smell her excited sex as she passed me.

  Then, my hands ripping at the wadding holding the bar in place, I had the gag out of my mouth in seconds.

  Fallon, despite my impending release, continued to laugh, although he did pause as I threw the piece of iron at his head.

  Vampire reflexes against vampire.

  He dodged it, but it did go right through the wall, crashing into the room beyond.

  “You’ll never get away with this!” I roared, realizing just how clichéd it sounded. “I’ll tear you limb from limb!”

  I pulled against my ankle bonds, but they held. Then I heard a snap. One of the bed legs had given way under my exertion.

  “I don’t have to get away!” he roared back at me. “All I have to do is this!”

  And to my horror, he pulled the knife from her neck, and pushed her across the bed at me. My hands instinctively held her upright as he threw the knife into her back. Lady jane screamed as its blade dug deep.

  Blood spurted out onto the rumpled bedclothes as I pulled my right leg free.

  Jane’s face flashed into pain, then her eyes drifted high into her sockets.

  “Just to see your face!” Fallon shouted, his grin back in full measure.