Captive

by Louisa Trent

  “Look at this, milady."

  Her babbling stopped, and Aeschine swiftly turned back at the sound of concern in Peter's voice. “What is it?"

  The shepherd pointed to indentations in the dirt. “Wolves,” he said. “The prints are fresh too."

  Wolves spelled disaster to a flock of sheep. They both knew it. “Traps?” she suggested.

  “I have some ready to set. I sneak out tonight."

  “Peter, nay! You dare not venture outside the gates of this stronghold at night, not without expressed permission, and not under the guard's nose."

  “I am no longer a child, and neither are you!"

  “Nay, but we are both prisoners."

  “Not to worry. There is not a gate made that will keep me in if I wish to leave. As to the guard's nose—that beak is large enough for a small army to slip under, never mind one wily shepherd. No one will be the wiser that I was ever gone."

  “Ach! Take care! Caught, there will be grave consequences for you."

  “Lady Aeschine,” Peter began thoughtfully, “are you happy here?"

  “I love the warlord, Peter."

  “You are under a guard's constant scrutiny. Is that love?"

  “Who said he loved me? I said I love him."

  “Well, I love you, Aeschine. I loved you with a lad's affection; I love you now as a man. Like the brightest star, you were too far above me back then to declare my love. Then, you went away to join the convent. Now that you are not a nun but a...” He hung his neck, the thought left dangling.

  “ ‘Tis all right, Peter. No one knows better than myself that I have become a whore."

  “I meant no insult—I hold you in the highest esteem—I only wished to know—now that your fortunes are diminished—if I might have cause to hope. We might,” he declared, excitedly, “make our escape together. Return to a different village in Scotland where neither of us are known. We might live together as man and wife. I would take care of you, if you would only allow it. And if we took the sheep we would have a readymade livelihood..."

  She placed her finger over her friend's mouth. “Hush! Speak no more to me about escape. Or about love, either. Did you not hear me? I love the warlord. No matter where I go, I cannot escape that.” Though she would have to try, now that her captor planned to wed Yseult, now that she carried his bairn...

  But that was her dilemma, not Peter's. She would not tell him of her plans to leave, for to do so would give him reason to hope that there might be something between them, when there would never be anything between them, save friendship.

  “My sister is happy enough here,” her companion offered. “She no longer has need of my protection now that she has the nobleman, John Tuttle, watching o'er her. Someday soon, I leave to find my own place in this world. A grown man does not ask permission every time he would take a piss!"

  “The rules will ease up after a time..."

  “But my love for you will not. To stay here and see you everyday with the warlord is too hard. Before, when I thought of you, I consoled myself in the knowing that you knelt at prayer in a convent. Now all I think about is you in bed with Geoffrey de Sage."

  “If you are caught, you will be flogged or worse."

  Peter held her hand. “In regards to my feelings for you—I abide by your wishes, milady. But in regards to my freedom, I must abide by my own best interests."

  Aeschine leaned forward and kissed Peter's cheek. “You will always be my friend, my very good friend. Rest assured I shall keep this conversation to myself. But I tell you this, be mindful. There are spies everywhere in this bastion. Do what you must do, only please do not underestimate the severity of the punishment should you be caught making an escape.” She hugged him fiercely to her behind a large bush at the hut. But Aeschine had learned to be careful, to never take what little privacy she had for granted, and so she looked up from the hug, just to make sure no one saw their embrace.

  There in the distance, on a hill overlooking them, a dark horseman waited.

  Do not go! Her heart cried. Stay! Let me explain.

  But the warlord galloped away, riding like a storm cloud over the hills.

  * * * *

  Sage slammed his goblet of ale down on the solid oak trestle table, the fury of his flexed arm leaving the wide scrubbed boards quaking.

  Before his very own eyes, Aeschine had betrayed him with another man!

  Had he not borne witness to the Judas kiss, himself he would not have believed it. He would have sworn his life on his leman's sense of honor, on her loyalty, on her integrity. Thinking her incapable of duplicity, he had defended her to his King.

  Sage covered his face with hands that trembled.

  What a gullible fool he had been! He had almost believed her when she spoke of love. How close he had come to falling for her lie!

  But before he condemned her, Sage searched what remained of his conscience.

  Was he without blame here? To be fair, must he not accept partial responsible for Aeschine's unfaithfulness? Mayhap, fidelity was too much to expect from the promiscuous lass. He had moved out of the solar, leaving her alone in a foreign country with no one to talk to all day, save for Will and Ellen and the peasant women servants. Naturally, she grew lonely. Naturally, she needed her joy.

  Sage dropped his head between his shoulders until his chin touched his chest.

  He had left her alone intentionally. For her own good. Seeing her pallor, her fatigue after her illness, he had deliberately not placed any carnal demands on her.

  In light of his neglect, it was understandable that she would stray. A lively young beauty like her needed the attentions of a man.

  The shepherd was a good man. A fellow Scots and much the same age as his leman, he was also whole of body, of mind, of spirit. Peter would give Aeschine the love she deserved.

  As warlord, he was landed now. With his vast holdings came power and wealth. But all the power and wealth in the realm could not make him whole. He might never again be whole. He had nothing to offer Aeschine, save his protection.

  Aeschine would have his protection for as long as she needed it, whether she took up with the shepherd or not. But he would not allow her to make a public fool of him. Lust had already made him foolish enough...

  He would release her from their bargain. She would still act as his bait, but she need no longer act as his leman.

  That decided he yanked his leg up and over the trestle bench, and climbed the wooden stairs to the tower.

  A much thinner Ellen talked with a toothsome Will at the portal.

  “Milord!” the maid gasped, hand over heart. “I did not expect to find you in the tower this eve."

  “Is Lady Aeschine inside?"

  “Aye. She is bathing. I was about to help her make ready for bed."

  “You are dismissed. Go see to that handsome son of yours,” he said sternly. “Will, you go too. Come back later.” That said, Sage opened the portal to the solar and stepped inside the chamber.

  His captive stood nude in the middle of the floor with her back turned. She dipped a linen bathing cloth into a bucket of water before her. From the shadows, he watched silently, voyeuristically, as she lifted an arm, raised a leg, the cloth going where his hands yearned to go.

  Only when she had finished her ablutions, and she started to dry off, did he make his presence known.

  Startled at his cough, she turned. “Captor! Forgive me! I thought you Ellen."

  Her eyes lowered. “May I carry on?"

  The golden hair decorating her raised underarm looked innocent and carnal, all at the same time. He remembered twirling his fingers in those silky swirls...

  Sage wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Aye. Carry on."

  “My thanks.” She finished drying the arm. “You must have sorely disappointed Ellen when you dismissed her, Captor. Bedtime is when we discuss the day's events,” Aeschine said with a merry laugh. “We call it a discussion, but ‘tis mostly gossip."

  “I
imagine Ellen must talk your ear off about her son..."

  “Aye, that she does."

  “Do your breasts next,” he told her.

  His gaze dropped to Aeschine's lush nipples, his hot eyes searing the hard points as they shifted under the linen cloth.

  His erection twitched.

  Aeschine continued to smile as she spoke. “Ellen does go on about her wee son. And I enjoy listening."

  They went quiet. He staring at his captive while she continued to dry herself, Aeschine looking down and away.

  “Between your legs next,” he instructed.

  She hesitated. “May I turn away?"

  “Aye. When you do between your buttocks. For now, remain forward. And open it wide, there's a good lass."

  She blushingly pulled up on the pink folds, showing him what he demanded to see.

  “Turn now,” he said politely.

  Presenting him with her back, she moved the linen drying cloth over her buttocks.

  “Bend,” he ordered, short and to the point.

  Upon finishing, she waited for his next command.

  “You may come ‘round.” When she had, he began quite reasonably, “Aeschine, we need to talk."

  “I shall gladly talk to you, milord, if I might only cover up first?"

  Still bargaining! “You still feel the need of modesty before me?"

  “Aye,” she said, gazing up at him from under her lashes like a shy doe.

  He gave a perfunctory nod. “Very well. You may use the drying cloth."

  The scanty linen would not cover all of her. The narrow strip might cover her top or her bottom, not both. She must decide which to hide.

  She wrapped the cloth around her waist, as a male would do, leaving her pretty breasts bared to his gaze.

  Fortunately, a female is not built as a male. Linen that would fit around a man's narrow hips would not meet around womanly flare. To achieve the most modesty, Aeschine started to tie the knot to the side, slung low at the hipbone, which revealed the shapely length of a leg, but nothing more.

  “Nay,” he said tersely.

  Her busy fingers halted. “Milord?"

  “Knot the linen at your middle, either in front or at the rear,” he commanded.

  Blushing more furiously than before, she brought the two edges of the linen together over her navel and knotted them there. This left the cloth agape over her mound, but covered her in back.

  “Tell me ... how do you pass your days?” he asked, ambling to the middle of the chamber and circling her slowly.

  “With my sheep, as you must know from my guard. Peter has some wonderful ideas for breeding the miniatures.” She had suddenly gone breathless.

  “How nice,” he said, and unsheathed his dirk.

  “There is no need for jealousy! There is nothing between us but friendship."

  “I saw the kiss..."

  “Och! A peck on the cheek. Come visit me in bed and I shall bestow on you more than a dry kiss. You will awaken in the morning with a smile upon your face."

  “Only whores go from one man to the next in the same day,” he said, and made a slash in the drying linen in back with the sharp point.

  “There,” he said, ripping the cloth so that both buttocks were bared. “Much better. Now—do you intend to run away with the shepherd?"

  “I am fond of Peter. He is like the brother I never had, but that is as far as the affection goes. I would never think to run away with him."

  “You stay for your sheep, then?"

  “Nay. I stay for you."

  “Lies! All lies. You have lain with Peter, and more than likely, other men too."

  “Since we met, there has been only you!"

  He turned to go. “You need your joy, Aeschine, and I have not visited you of late."

  “Please, Captor. Do not leave! You are right. I did need my joy recently, and I found it too!"

  He knew it! She had lain with Peter.

  He turned back ‘round.

  Licking her lips, his promiscuous leman backed up to the bed. “I found my joy, but not with Peter or with any other man. I used the gift you gave me."

  His brow lifted. “Oh?"

  “Aye. ‘Tis on the shelf above me."

  Two could play at this game...

  He reached for the box overhead, opened the lid, and handed her the finely tooled leather phallus.

  He smiled. “Convince me."

  Reclining on the bed, she proceeded to do just that.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  “The guards have taken Peter prisoner!” Ellen cried, and pulled aside the curtains surrounding Aeschine's bed.

  The morning after the unspeakable pleasure of the night before, still sluggish with sexual satiation, Aeschine failed to grasp the meaning behind Ellen's statement. Her first thought involved the fancy box lying atop the covers.

  Aeschine quickly slipped her guilty secret under the tangle of furs before saying, “What for the love of God and all his saints and angels are you going on and on about in the wee hours of the morning, Ellen? I know full well Peter is a prisoner here at the keep."

  “Nay! These are new charges! The guards caught the shepherd outside the gates last night. He stands accused of spying. ‘Tis said he was returning to his village with information about this keep's battlements. Weak spots in the wall where attack would more than likely succeed."

  Aeschine sprang from bed. “Nonsense. Peter is no more a spy than I."

  “Do not say that, Lady Aeschine! Tongues are already wagging about your part in this. ‘Tis said Peter had an accomplice and that the accomplice must be you! The talk is that you are a spy too."

  “I must find Sage. I must tell him that Peter is innocent,” Aeschine cried throwing the patched russet gown on over her nakedness and racing out the portal, her knotted hair streaming down her back behind her.

  * * * *

  A crowd had gathered. Mostly soldiers, but whores and peasant farmers and some skilled tradesman were present too. A festive atmosphere of joviality and jesting reigned. The early risers expected rousing entertainment after giving up the comforts of their warm beds this cool morn.

  To the hisses and boos and jeers of the audience, the prisoner was brought up from the oubliette. In shackles, he was led limping across the packed dirt surface of the courtyard.

  “Under penalty of death, no stoning of the prisoner,” the warlord shouted with the full weight of his authority and prayed his authority still carried some weight with the crowd. Could he hold back the mob long enough to get Aeschine to safety?

  Thankfully, the crowd took him at his word. They fell back, enough to allow the guard sufficient room to position the shepherd before the stocks, chest braced against the post, arms straight out at shoulder level.

  Sage dared not delay punishment. To save the prisoner's life, to prevent the crowd from surging forward en masse and ripping the poor bastard apart, he must act quickly and exactly. He raised the whip.

  “Nay!"

  Aeschine rushed forward. Elbowing her way through the blood-hungry spectators, she threw herself at him, dragging downward on his raised arm. “You must stop this!"

  Sage pushed her away.

  Aeschine fell to the dirt.

  “What are you doing here?” he growled down at her.

  “I had to come,” she cried, coming up onto her knees. “I had to tell you that Peter did naught wrong. ‘Twas the sheep! He was trying to trap wolves. The beasts had come too close to the flock's grazing grounds. He sought to protect my lambs!"

  “He was caught outside the gates in the middle of the night, satchel in hand. The satchel contained a map of this fortress and scraps of dear meat."

  “Peter draws for pleasure. All the time he makes drawings. In the dirt. On parchment, if he gets his hands on some. I gave him a few skins just the other day."

  “The prisoner admits to making an escape. He carried with him the interior layout of this keep. He had meat for a journey. He stands accused of spying.
As he will not defend himself, I have no choice but to punish him."

  “You do have a choice! Milord, you are a just man. You know he is no spy! He is a shepherd who likes to draw. The meat was meant for the wolves, not for him to eat on a journey. Do not let your jealousy get in the way of what you know is right."

  “My feelings for you do not enter into this judgment."

  “I never betrayed you. I swear it."

  “Did you know Peter would try to escape? Were you his diversion? Is that why you kept me entertained in the solar last night?"

  “I knew his lot dissatisfied Peter, but he made the disclosure to me in confidence."

  “Tell me the points of this disclosure."

  “Nay. Just know that as a captive deprived of my own freedom, I well understood how he felt. I would not betray him, but neither would I act as his diversion. I did not go to you last night; you visited me. Remember?"

  “I remember that you availed yourself of my present last night when you refused it before. Is there anything you will not do to save the man you love?” he snarled into her face.

  “There is naught. For the man I love is you, not Peter,” she cried. In a frenzy, she lunged for his arm. “If you do this, if you whip Peter out of jealousy, my exclusivity to you is at an end. Do this, and I bed who I choose, when I choose."

  “Still bargaining?"

  “Nay. This time I beg. Do not hurt this man out of petty spite. If you do, it will be your soul, not his back, that carries the harshest scars."

  “Guards!” Sage called. “Take this woman to the dungeon."

  “Please,” Aeschine screamed as they dragged her away, a guard on either side.

  Pulling back his powerful arm, Sage let the strap fly, the whip coming down again and again on the shepherd's shoulders.

  * * * *

  Three days later, the same two guards who had dragged her away, led her back up the stone stairs from the dungeon. She had been stripped, but thankfully, she had not been violated.