by Smith, Skye
He was kneeling up, while she was sitting on his cock with her legs wrapped around his back. She ground down on him and wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her breast against his and kissed him full on the lips. And so they danced, connected, and kissing and waited for the moon to rise. It was late rising due to the mist, but when it rose it was a golden circle with a face staring down at them.
"That is Freyja's face," she whispered in his ear. "She is watching us make this offering to her."
He only half heard her and could not quite understand the words. He had relapsed into his mushroom mind, his wild mind, and words had little meaning, but his senses were exploding. He heard himself gasping for breath and moaning and then screaming with rapture, but then realized that the sounds were from her, not him. And then she swelled around his manhood and clamped him hard and he came, and his knees and legs were suddenly feeling the intense pain of leg cramps.
He had no choice but to roll onto his side to stretch his legs out, but she rode him all the way over and kept pumping and rocking him even when he was busy rubbing the intense pain from his legs. He stared up at the pink sky and the golden moon and he began to weep. His tears stopped her selfish pleasuring and she kissed his tears and stroked his head and whispered an ancient prayer to Freyja into his ear.
It would have been more romantic to tell of, if they hadn't then been attacked by swarms of midges, each one of which had a fiery bite. They disconnected with little grace and fewer words and much waving of arms. Grabbing their things without bothering to dress, they leaped into the punt and poled as quickly as possible away from the island of Roman pillars.
* * * * *
Beatrice was impatiently waiting for them in the dark at her river gate. She had her arms crossed and was tapping a foot and scowled at them as they dragged the punt through the water gate and up the bank. "Where have you been until this hour?" she asked, sounding more like Gesa's mother than her Countess.
"At the island of pillars," answered Raynar, but her look of query told him that this was not a place of common knowledge. He gave her a full body hug which almost popped her breasts up and free of their support. "I'm sorry, love. It is all my fault. I got carried away on mushrooms and almost got eaten by an eel ball." It was not the best thing he could have said.
Gesa kept quiet and let Raynar make his amends. As she passed close to Beatrice she whispered into her ear, "Take him to your bed, now, while the magic is still in him. You can have him all the night, for I am so exhausted." That also was not the best thing to say, and Raynar stuck his tongue out at her, which was also wrong.
Eventually Raynar felt silly making apologies and excuses, and he stopped in mid-stride and pulled Beatrice into him and said, "If you take me to bed now, I promise I will tell you of our adventures before I fall asleep." Bea listened to the words and then took his hand and half-dragged him towards her quarters. "She almost drowned me saving me from the eel ball. She is still upset. Be gentle with your words, Bea, for my heart is still wide open from the mushrooms and my mind is still hurting from drowning to the very edge of death and then being revived."
"Oh Raynar," she whispered, "I thought you were jesting. The edge of death. Is it true then? Does your life flash before your eyes?"
"It was the first time I had come close to drowning. At first I panicked and lost my last breath and sucked water in, but then everything became very peaceful. The only thing that flashed before my eyes was my anger at Gesa for pulling me by my hair because that hurt so much. Afterwards, when I was up-chucking water from my lungs and tasting the sweetness of air again, and I knew that I would live, that was when my life flashed before my eyes.
But what flashed was not the life I had lived, but the life I have not lived. Not the things I have done, but the things I have left undone. I was troubled by that, and Gesa was troubled by failing me as my keeper, so we stayed to watch the full moon rise and make an offering to Freyja. That is why we are late. I am sorry that we caused more worry in your life."
"I am glad that you are safe, but as for her. I don't know whether I want to beat her or to hug her."
"Hug her," he said and wrapped an arm around her as they walked. "She is still so young. She needs hugs."
* * * * *
* * * * *
The Hoodsman - Courtesans and Exiles by Skye Smith
Chapter 10 - Collecting the treasure from Surfleet in July 1072
The week he spent waiting for the shipwrights to finish with the Anske went very pleasantly. Each day he would explore the Fens with Gesa, and each night he would cuddle with Beatrice. Sometimes Gesa would feed him some concentration of the blue dye of the mushrooms to bring back the wild senses, and sometimes she would teach him more about the wild sense. Not once did Gesa seduce him, though under the influence of the mushrooms it would have been a simple thing for her to do, and perhaps that was why she did not.
One day they visited the ship's pool to see how the shipwrights were doing, and that same day they visited Gesa's village to see how Raynar's men fared. Suffice it to say that those that had no kin to visit, were treated as kin by the villagers. From this visit, and from talking to the locals about local tides, he knew he must leave before he lost the highest of the tides in three days.
That evening Gesa stayed to talk, after she had cleared the supper's dishes. "I want to go to Flanders," she said.
Beatrice made to speak but instead locked her jaw and forced a smile.
Raynar inwardly groaned. He had been hoping for a peaceful evening. "Then ask Klaes to take you."
"He will not," she moaned. "He wants me to stay in Spalding with Beatrice and work as a healer amongst the folk here."
"Klaes is my friend and a business partner, and your father," he cocked his head at her. "Do you expect me to take you away against his wishes?"
"I will not be a healer in Spalding, and don't say that there are other villages. To wish me a healer is to wish my fat to sizzle on a priest's fire." Neither argued the point with her, considering that was how her mother had died.
"There is no shortage of work about," said Beatrice, "you have the touch with animals, not just folk. With horses for instance, there are few with your skills."
"If I stay, will you match me with a rich husband?" asked Gesa.
"You may as well be a healer. What difference whether the priests try you as a witch or as an adulteress, for that is what would happen. You could never be faithful to some boring old fart whose only interest in you would be to stick his babies in you."
"Raynar has told me of the richness of Flanders and the richness of the court of Count Robert the Frisian," Gesa pouted. "I want to see it first, before I make any decisions about being a healer."
Beatrice sighed. "Not that again." Beatrice looked at Raynar and explained. "Last time she stayed with me, Waltheof's wife, the Countess Judith filled her head with stories of the Frankish courts. Fine for Judith. As William's niece she is welcome in any court. But to fill this girl's head with such dreams was cruel. Never will she be allowed to attend and mingle with nobles."
"That is not so," Gesa interrupted. "Judith told me that the stars of the courts are the courtesans, and courtesans are not from noble families."
"They are harlots, Gesa. Would you be a harlot?" he asked.
"A harlot trades sex for poor coins. A courtesan trades sex for jewels. I could do that. I would do that. Judith told me of courtesans she had met who had a power over men that was almost magical. I will wager they are just healers who have found more rewarding clients for their touch."
"And what if they are healers?" replied Beatrice. "That is not the half of it. They are beautiful and educated and are trained in manners and music and have fine clothes, many fine clothes. You are an uneducated pumpkin in homespun from a mud village."
The two women looked like they were going to come to blows, so he moved to be between them. "Gesa, Bea is not strong. It is good that you are here with her. She does not want you to go becaus
e she needs you here for her baby's sake."
"Bah," replied Gesa impatiently, "there is no shortage of healers at my village and any one of them would jump at the chance to repay her and her husband for all they have done for us. Any of them would be a better choice than I. I bicker with Bea as if - as if - as if I were her thankless teenage daughter."
"Gesa, if you can find a healer who will stay under this roof until the baby is safe, then I will take you to Flanders to take care of Roas until her baby comes," he promised.
"But what of Klaes?" argued Beatrice, "he has told her no."
"We will tell Klaes the truth, as it was just spoken. He should have thought of it himself when he took Roas to Hereward."
"Yes, yes, yes!" Gesa cheered. "I will go immediately to speak with the ealders about my replacement. Edeline would be a good choice, and she already knows this manor." Edeline had been Roas's sister-in-law through her first husband.
He pulled Gesa back to the table by her arm. "Tomorrow morning is soon enough. The moon is past full so it will be a black night until it rises."
* * * * *
"I must be insane," he thought, looking towards the rear of the rowing skiff where Gesa was using the steering oar and Beatrice was smiling at him. His ship the Anske was waiting for him at the river's fork towards the sea from here, with two dozen able seamen aboard, and here he was, fetching a king's ransom in treasure with these two women.
The problem, of course, was not keeping the treasure a secret. As soon as it was loaded onto the Anske, that would no longer be a secret. The problem was keeping the hiding place a secret. The hide had served him and Hereward well through the years because it needed no guarding, was dry, and could be reached by ship if necessary.
Gesa was going with him to Flanders, and knew all the small channels along this river, so she was steering. Beatrice was now Hereward’s business partner, so she needed to know where the hide was, and more importantly, the deadly secret of how it protected itself.
"I must be insane," he thought again, but smiled sweetly at Beatrice, and she smiled sweetly back. She was starting to glow with good health. At least both of these women had dressed in men's clothing and wore boots. They were chatting and giggling to each other about something. Probably at his expense.
"Shh," he hushed their chattering. "We are close now. Take that channel under the hanging boughs." Gesa flicked her oar and the skiff slid beneath branches so low over the channel that they forced them all to duck, and then they were into the small channel that had, at one time, served this village as a port. That had been long ago, before a storm surge had washed the village of Surfleet away.
The bow bedded itself in the muddy bank and Raynar grabbed his long bow and leaped ashore and strung it and nocked an arrow. "Stay here while I scout." He didn't wait or turn to look for their confirmation, but immediately set off moving carefully through the shadows looking for any trace that men had been here.
His were the only tracks in the mud. There were no sounds other than gulls. He circled the old stone church and noticed that the thatch roof was sagging badly in the middle. There were no tracks around the church so he continued to the old Roman foundations behind the church. Nothing, nobody. He took the shortest route back to the skiff to fetch the women.
Gesa was face down on the bank with a boot pressing on her back. The man with the boot was holding Beatrice around her breasts and had a sword to her back. He was an ugly man because of the scars and sores on his face but he looked fit and strong. He was dressed as an eeler and behind him, next to the skiff was an eeler's punt.
Raynar pointed the nocked arrow at the man, but he pulled at Beatrice to give himself better cover behind her. "Drop it and hold your arms away from your body and then lay on the ground," said a voice with a Cambridge burr from behind him. Gesa groaned as the man ground his boot into her back. Raynar dropped his bow and held his arms out and kneeled to the ground. "I was insane," he thought to himself.
"So lookee who we have here. Oh, won't the abbot be impressed, and that means he will make us rich. The countess helping a witch and an outlaw," he laughed nervously, "and the outlaw is no less than Raynar Wolveshead, in person."
"How rich will he make you, friend?" asked Raynar from his knees. "Not as rich as I can make you for simply returning to your eel traps."
"Oye, I don't trust him. Tell him to unbuckle his sword belt and crawl away from it." said the man with the women. Raynar did not wait for the order, he just did it.
"You have caught us on our way to Flanders," Raynar said. "We just stopped here to dig up my treasure chest to take with us. Help us dig it up and you can have a share."
"Tie him up and gag him, I don't trust him."
"I can let you see the treasure in mere minutes, what can it hurt?" Raynar said. "I'm getting up now. All you need do is follow me, but if you injure the women I will not show you where it is."
Raynar led all of them across the overgrown church yard and to the Roman foundations. He walked up to the first of a row of low domes that looked like huge bee hives made of brick. He crouched in front of a large rounded stone that sat in front of it. After scraping away at a small stone until it was free to move, he then moved it away from the large stone. With all the strength of his porter's back he rolled the rounded stone sideways. It had been blocking a tiny arched doorway at the base of the hive.
He paused thinking, looking at these two wild-looking men, and then shrugged and made to go in the doorway saying, "I'll bring the chest out." but the man who was prodding the women along with his sword yelled out, "Nay! There will be a weapons cache as well. Tie his hands with his scarf and then you go in."
The other man pushed Raynar over onto the ground and roughly yanked the scarf from his neck and used it to tie his hands behind him. Raynar rolled and sat up and slowly looked at both men and then both women. The man beside him got down on all fours and crawled slowly into the strange building, and immediately came out again. "I can see chests," he said and then crawled in all the way. A long silence began.
"Oye! Oye!" the other man called out. "What'sup?"
"He can't hear you when he is inside," said Raynar, "but from here I can hear him clinking coins."
The eeler told the women to lay still on the ground, and then he came forward, keeping his sword pointed at Raynar. "No tricks," he warned and then crouched down to try to see into the doorway. He was in his own light but he tried calling to his friend, and when there was no answer he stuck his head a little further into the doorway.
There was a rushing sound behind him and he swung his sword around but it got caught on the rounded stone for an instant, and that instant was all that Gesa needed to hurl her weight against his back and flatten him to the ground. The man bucked her like a horse, and got a slash from a kitchen knife across his already scarred face.
Raynar was on his feet now and stomping his boot into the man's sword hand and grinding down on it with a vengeance. The man roared in pain and called to his friend and got another slash across the face from Gesa's knife. "Get inside!" ordered Raynar, and once the man was inside he turned so that Beatrice could untie his hands. With a heave he rolled the rounded stone back into place.
"Now what?" Gesa asked.
"Were there only two of them?"
"Yes, just the two in the punt. We thought they were just eelers and we were trying to get them to go away before they saw you."
"Bea, did they hurt you? Do you need to sit?" he asked as he put his arms around her to steady her.
"Men! Why do they always grab me by the tits? Every time." She put her hands under her breasts and lifted their weight gently. "Owe, my nipples are so sore. Why, why, why, always the breasts? Why not grab me around the waist?"
He laughed in relief and in appreciation. "You ask me, love? I am the same. What can I say? You have come hither tits."
"Half the people on earth have tits. What is it about them that men find so special? I am so tired of walking into a room and havi
ng half the eyes in the room see only my breasts." She saw Gesa snickering and said to her, "Just you wait until yours fill out, love. Then you'll understand."
Gesa looked at Raynar. "I'm fine too, thanks for asking."
"No, Gesa, thanks for besting him," he said. She came close enough for him to let go of Bea with one arm and draw her in to a three-way hug.
Gesa kissed both of them on their cheeks and said, "Now what?"
"We wait for them to drown. A few more minutes."
"There is a well inside, then?" asked Beatrice.
"Swamp gas," he replied, "the kind that gently puts you to sleep and then suffocates you. It is like drowning." After waiting at least a quarter hour, he gave the women a last squeeze and then released them and walked to the back side of the strange dome and climbed to the top. Once on top of it, he shoved a flat stone away from the top of the dome and then slid back down and rolled the stone out of the doorway.
"Stand back," he warned the women. "The gas does not escape up through the roof, it escapes down through this door. They waited another quarter hour and then he lit a candle stub and put it as far under the dome as he could reach while holding his breath. The candle stayed lit.
Beatrice went back to the skiff and fetched the sacking they had brought with them, while Raynar and Gesa dragged the two bodies from the dome to the eeler punt, and rolled them into it. They looked down at the two men, who looked so peaceful that they could have been sleeping. "You made a mess of his face with your knife," he said.
"His face was already a mess, probably scratches from some woman he abused." Gesa spat on the men and uttered a curse.
It took another hour to drag the large assortment of sizes and types of chests from the dome to skiff using the sacking cloth as a skid. "Bea, there is one large and heavy chest of silver left in the dome. Too heavy for us to move. I will leave it for Thorold in case this winter is hard and he must buy seed corn and lambs for the shire's farmers. It is about a third full of Norwegian silver coins. A legacy from King Harald of Norway, by way of Harold of Wessex, and then Edgar Aetheling."
