‘What’s this?’ someone said as Lia made her entrance. ‘Osric can’t have finished already, surely?’
‘Poor old bastard can’t keep it up,’ another jeered.
‘What is it girl?’ a third asked.
‘I want… I’m to ask for the gruel,’ she said quietly. Laughter erupted and she dropped her eyes in shame. One stood up and put his arm around her shoulder.
‘And you shall have it, sweetling,’ he drawled, ‘as much as you can sup. We like to see a girl with a full belly, don’t we lads?’
A chorus of yells and cheers went up. The man steered her back to his chair, unfastened his hose and took out his cock. He sat down, grinning at her, then took hold of his semi-hard cock and waggled it by way of invitation.
‘Here,’ he said, ‘take all the gruel I’ve got, and welcome. We’ll fill you up, me and the lads, never fear. We’ll fill you and Uli both, or chop up our longbows for firewood and join a company of men-at-arms. Archers aren’t the sort to baulk at a challenge. Kneel down, sweetling, and take the spout.’
Lia knelt awkwardly, hampered as she was by her bound arms, but seeing her difficulty the man took a knife from his boot and cut the cords. Her hands had grown numb from the tight bindings, and as the blood flowed once more they hurt with a vengeance. She rubbed her wrists, but there was no time for self-pity for the man was waiting, so she leaned forward and took him in her mouth.
As she sucked him the one using Elfrida finished, whereupon another immediately took his place. Lia thrust away the despair that threatened to overwhelm her; she would not give in to it, or to the men. They would survive, her and Elfrida, and escape and be free of the lot of them. They would show these Osburg pigs what Attland women were made of.
Chapter Sixteen
When the men were done with Elfrida they shoved her into a corner where she lay curled up in a ball. Lia was sent to join her not long after, and she crawled over fearing the worst.
‘Uli?’ she said, for the men were close and she was worried about being overheard. She feared to see madness in Elfrida’s eyes, for surely the treatment she’d received must topple so fragile and vulnerable a mind; but a very strange thing happened. Elfrida reached out and hugged Lia tight, pressing her lips close to her bondmaiden’s ear.
‘Lia,’ she whispered, ‘are you all right?’
It was a startling question from someone who had never thought of anyone but herself in her whole life, and it took Lia a second or two to compose herself. ‘Yes,’ she whispered back. ‘How about you?’
‘I’m a bit sore,’ Elfrida confessed, smiling bravely. ‘But I’ll be fine.’
One of the men threw a musty old cloak at them, which they gratefully huddled beneath, and another, with a more kindly demeanour than the others, rolled up his own cloak and gave it to them for a pillow. Lia was exhausted, and she guessed Elfrida was too, but before they dozed off she put her lips to Elfrida’s ear and secretively told her of her plan.
The problem, she knew, was that the men would be wary of letting them both out at the same time. But they did seem to be letting their collective guard down slightly, and Lia anticipated that for one of them to get away might just be possible, using the pretext of offering to fetch the men their water from the well. It would be the girl who went second who would have the difficult escape to make.
Lia sent Elfrida first. It wasn’t long after cockcrow, and most of the men were still snoring. Elfrida fastened one of the cloaks around her shoulders, then picked up a bucket and surreptitiously poured what little water remained onto the floor. Then, with a final anxious glance at Lia, who gave her mistress a tight smile for luck, Elfrida went to the door.
‘I have to fetch water,’ she said to the man there. ‘Do you want your bottle filling too?’ He was still groggy from sleep and the previous night’s heavy revelry, yawned, nodded, and with his judgement clouded, handed it to her. This was a last minute addition to Lia’s plan, ensuring that if they did manage to get away at least they would have some water to sustain them in their flight.
Elfrida went out. Lia counted to a hundred slowly, then stood up and put on the other cloak, the one they’d been given for a pillow. Her heart thumping and knees shaking, she took a deep breath and stepped forward – just as Osric came clumping down the stairs.
Lia froze. Osric scowled at her, then looked around the room. ‘Where’s the other one?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘Gone to fetch water,’ someone said.
Osric looked at the man who’d answered, then at Lia once more, and in that instant she saw his expression change. Whether it was the fact she was wearing a cloak that tipped him off, or the fear and tension that must surely show in her face, she didn’t know. But something did, for he let out an enraged bellow and ran to the door. ‘Keep an eye on that one!’ he yelled, pointing at Lia, then at two of his bleary comrades. ‘You two, come with me!’
The three scrambled outside, and the rest just stared after them looking baffled. One, no less puzzled than the rest, closed the door and leaned against it with his arms folded, looking across at Lia. Her only exit was well and truly blocked. Or was it?
She turned and walked slowly up the stairs, hanging her head dejectedly. She expected someone to stop her at any moment, but no one did. She went into the bedchamber and closed the door. The key was still there on the table where Osric had dropped it, so she picked it up and locked the door. She quickly took off the cloak and dragged the covers from the bed, then tied them together corner to corner. She carried them to the window and jammed the end of the quilt between the bottom of the shutter and the windowsill. A hard tug convinced her it was held fast, so she hastily tipped the rest of her makeshift rope out of the window. It reached barely halfway to the ground, but it was the best she could do. She climbed out and slithered down, letting the cloak slide through her hands, and when there was no more to hold on to she hung for a moment, said a quick prayer to Saint Ivar, then let go.
She landed with a thump and fell on her bottom, but she jumped up straight away, her prayer for a safe landing having been heard. She looked up longingly at the cloak, but there was no way to get it down, so she turned and ran, begging the good saint not to abandon her just yet.
Soon shouts followed her as she rounded a hut, and there was Elfrida, waiting where they’d agreed under the eaves of a deserted blacksmith’s forge.
‘What happened?’ Elfrida asked in dismay. ‘Where’s your cloak?’
‘Osric came,’ she panted. ‘I lost it.’
‘Osric?’ Elfrida wailed, peering back fearfully. ‘Where?’
‘He went the other way, to the well.’
‘So what do we do now?’ Elfrida asked. ‘We won’t get far with you naked, will we?’
‘No further than this,’ a voice growled right behind them. They both screamed and tried to run, but it was too late. Hands clamped around their wrists and they were dragged into the gloom of the forge.
It turned out not to be an Osburg soldier, as Lia had feared, but the blacksmith. Apparently the forge wasn’t as deserted as it first appeared.
‘Now then,’ he said as they struggled in his vicelike grip, ‘and who might you two be, I wonder?’
Lia stopped struggling and told him they were cousins from Three Elms who’d been captured by the enemy while visiting their sick aunt. He tutted and shook his head in sympathy as she described their barbarous treatment at the hands of the archers, but didn’t offer to let them go.
‘Fucked you, did they?’ he mused. ‘Can’t say I blame ’em, fresh and juicy as the pair of you are. Still, it’s not right, them Osburg bastards helping themselves to our women without so much as a thank-you-kindly. Not right at all.’ He let go of them, so unexpectedly and abruptly they both stumbled and nearly fell. He sat down on an upturned barrel and regarded them from beneath shaggy eyebrows. ‘So then,’ he said, looking from one t
o the other, ‘what is it you’ll be wanting, eh?’
‘Something to wear,’ Lia said quickly. ‘Even a sack would do.’
‘And something to eat,’ Elfrida added. ‘We haven’t had anything since yesterday.’
Looking around, Lia wasn’t hopeful on either count. Iron there was aplenty, and half-finished tools and implements, and horseshoes, and objects she couldn’t identify, but no sign of the things they needed.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘let’s see what we can do.’ He went to the back of the forge and opened a chest, and to her amazement he brought out a blue woollen gown with faded flowers embroidered around the scooped neckline. ‘This belonged to my Winifride, God rest her soul,’ he said. ‘Here, try it on.’
It was too big for her, but he tied a piece of string around her waist for a belt, which gathered it in nicely. Next he lifted down a bag that was hanging by a hook from the rafters, and from inside produced bread and cheese, together with a small bottle of mead to wash it down.
‘My dinner,’ he said, ‘but you’re welcome to it.’
Lia didn’t know what to say to such kindness, but though she felt guilty about taking his food she knew they had to keep up their strength if they were to escape. Osric and his motley crew wouldn’t give up the search easily, and there were countless others to avoid too, so they’d need food inside them to sustain their flight.
Whilst eating, the blacksmith made them each a pair of peasant boots, just leather pouches, in effect, gathered up and tied around the ankle with a thong.
‘All done,’ he said. ‘So, which one of you wants to pay?’
‘Pay?’ Lia said stupidly.
‘Aye,’ he said. ‘You surely didn’t think a gown, food and boots would come free, did you?’
She had, but realised the folly of that assumption, especially as he’d hinted right at the start that he wanted them.
‘Either one of us can pay,’ Elfrida said. ‘You pick.’
Lia stared at her, speechless, wondering whatever had happened to the frightened girl she’d held in her arms just a day before? Surely it couldn’t be the same person who was now offering her services to a lecherous old blacksmith?
‘I will that,’ he said with a leer. ‘And I pick you.’
To Lia’s shock she wasn’t the one he was looking at, but Elfrida looked remarkably relaxed about the situation, and there was even a glint in her eye that Lia might think was triumph if she didn’t know better.
‘What do you want from me?’ Elfrida asked the blacksmith. ‘But don’t dally, mind; the archers will be searching for us as we speak.’
‘Bugger the archers,’ he drooled. ‘Come sit on my lap.’
He patted his thigh, and with no more ado Elfrida perched upon it, opened her cloak, and parted her knees. The blacksmith’s calloused hand sank between her legs, and in no time at all he was rubbing her sex and murmuring what a sweet little thing she was. And as if the sight of a princess being groped by a blacksmith wasn’t astonishing enough, Elfrida’s reaction left Lia dumfounded. She leaned her head on his shoulder and was soon moaning and grinding her hips. Her climax, when it came, was spectacular to judge from the amount of noise she made, and afterwards the old man cradled her in his arms and held her until her breathing slowed. She opened her eyes finally and bestowed on him a contented smile.
‘Did I please you?’ he asked gruffly.
‘You did, very much,’ she said, and popped a kiss on his stubbly cheek.
As they bade farewell to the blacksmith and cautiously crept from the forge, Lia discovered that Elfrida had another major surprise for her, for she started off in the wrong direction.
‘Not that way!’ Lia hissed, keeping her voice low. ‘It will take us back from where we’ve come!’
‘Exactly,’ Elfrida said calmly. ‘That’s where I have to go.’
‘But you can’t!’ Lia protested. ‘You’ll be caught!’
‘Perhaps so; but that’s not important. What’s important is that I help Baran if I can, whose welfare is infinitely more important to Attland than my own. That’s why we’re going back, to help Baran and my mother and Magdalena. If it’s my fate to be captured or killed, so be it.’
Nothing Lia said could dissuade her, so back they went, dodging Osburg men along the way, all the while heading, Lia was convinced, to their doom.
Chapter Seventeen
The castle walls looked forbidding, and though Elfrida’s wish to help her family was commendable, Lia did wonder how in the name of all the saints they were supposed to get in and achieve that.
They were hiding behind a pile of garbage just as close to the postern gate as they could safely get. They’d already crept close to the main gate but found it just as heavily guarded as before, so the small postern gate still seemed their best bet. But Lia remained deeply unhappy about it all, remembering the sacrifice Velda had made to get them out; an unnecessary sacrifice it now seemed, with Elfrida so determined to go back in.
They waited and waited, and though the princess grew increasingly frustrated and impatient she agreed they could hardly walk up to the door and knock. Finally it opened, and Kerta came out lugging two big buckets. Lia couldn’t imagine why the laundress should be taking out garbage, for that was a kitchen servant’s job and no one else’s. Kerta struggled across the footbridge and tipped the first bucket on the heap just yards from where they were hiding, then wearily hoisted up the second.
‘Kerta!’ Lia hissed. ‘Over here!’
The laundress looked up, startled, and she was even more startled when she spied Lia and an unknown serf peering over the dung heap. ‘Lia?’ she said, casting an anxious glance back over her shoulder. ‘Is that you? We thought you were dead. Who’s that with you?’
‘It’s me, Princess Elfrida.’
Kerta stared as though a madwoman were speaking, so Elfrida pushed her hair back from her face and Kerta’s jaw fell. ‘M-my lady,’ she gasped, giving a clumsy curtsey.
‘We have to get in,’ Elfrida said. ‘Are the guards still there?’
‘Y-yes, my lady; t-two of them!’
‘Why are you taking out rubbish?’ Lia asked.
‘Well,’ Kerta said, confused, ‘who else should do it?’
‘No, I mean who’s left in the kitchen? Is Tilda still there?’
‘No, the soldiers took her. There’s just Holmann and Dagna and old Berta and me.’
‘Dagna,’ Lia echoed with relief. ‘She’ll do. Kerta, you must come again at dusk. Bring more rubbish, and bring Dagna too. She’s to lure the guards away from the gate and keep them occupied, you understand? She’s to do whatever it takes, even if that means fucking them. You must bring two clean smocks and slippers for the princess and me. Once Dagna’s lured the guards away from the gate you come out and get us; we’ll be waiting right here. Have you got all that?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘My lady,’ Lia said, affording Elfrida her proper title for Kerta’s benefit, ‘please command her to do as I say, and command Dagna through her. She might not take any notice of me.’
Elfrida did so and Kerta curtseyed once more. Lia would have dearly liked to ask about Durwin and Velda, but that would have to wait until later. The guards might come at any time, wondering why Kerta was taking so long to empty two buckets. They sent the laundress back, while they themselves slipped away to hide until nightfall.
Lia’s plan worked perfectly. At dusk Kerta came out of the gate and hurried over to them. She handed them the smocks and slippers and they changed into them quickly, dropping their old clothes on the rubbish heap. Lia felt a little guilty about leaving Winifride’s old blue gown lying in the dirt, but safety was more important than sentimentality. As they went inside Lia heard grunting sounds from a nearby lean-to, and a man’s voice telling someone to suck harder.
‘Dagna,’ she muttered. ‘They’re fuc
king her, then.’
Kerta nodded. ‘Both together, one at each end.’
They crossed to the keep and made their way to the kitchen without incident, where Holmann seemed awestruck at being face to face with the princess, as though he hadn’t quite believed what Kerta told him. He stammered answers to their questions, though it was Lia who did most of the asking. King Ulric was indeed dead, murdered in his sleep by Torkel’s assassins just as Willem the archer had said. Elfrida was distraught, though she’d known it for days.
‘I-I’m very sorry, my lady,’ Holmann said, wringing his hands. ‘Shall I… do you wish me to go on?’
‘Yes,’ Elfrida said quietly. ‘Please do.’
The news got no better, for they learned Queen Gudrun and Princess Magdalena were being held prisoner in the royal apartments. Kerta, who had taken food there, said they were being harshly treated, and had even been interrogated under torture. Though no one had any knowledge of Velda’s whereabouts, Holmann was adamant that Prince Baran had been neither killed nor captured, but was presumably in hiding somewhere.
‘The prince wasn’t in the castle when they attacked,’ he explained. ‘I overheard the officers talking. They caught Karl, the prince’s bondman, and tortured him with hot irons. He told them the prince was in the town visiting…’ His voice trailed away and he licked his lips nervously.
‘Go on,’ Elfrida said without rancour. ‘Who was he visiting?’
‘It’s just what I heard, my lady,’ he said apologetically. ‘They said… he was visiting a merchant’s wife while the merchant was away.’
Bondmaiden Page 14
