Bondmaiden

by B. A. Bradbury

  ‘I think you’re right,’ Torkel said. ‘Escalate the torture anyway, just in case.’

  Lia fled as silently and swiftly as she could, back to the kitchen and relative safety.

  Chapter Eighteen

  With the others hanging on her every word, Lia recounted what she’d seen and heard in the great hall. Elfrida was overjoyed at the news that the Osburg army was leaving, but dismayed that they planned to take the queen and her sister with them as hostages.

  ‘If Prince Baran truly leads our army,’ the princess said, ‘then that is the most wonderful news. With my uncle Roland’s help he’ll soon send these invaders packing. Our duty now is to rescue my mother and sister before they’re carried off to Osburg.’

  ‘And Velda, my lady?’ Lia reminded. ‘Surely we won’t abandon her to cruel torture?’

  ‘Well, no… of course not,’ Elfrida said. ‘We’ll rescue Velda too… should an opportunity present itself, I mean.’ It was clear that the princess’s mind was on the jeopardy facing her family, and when Holmann said he had a plan to rescue and hide them in a storeroom until the invaders were gone she was soon in eager discussion with him over the details.

  Forgotten for the moment, Lia slipped away. She was determined to help Velda if she could, for it seemed no one else would. Velda had been incredibly kind to her, taking her out of the kitchen, teaching her how to speak and act like a lady, rescuing her from the worst of Elfrida’s excesses, keeping them from the clutches of the Osburg animals. But the kindest thing of all was arranging for Durwin to be the one to take her maidenhead.

  At the time Lia had thought little of it, indeed, she’d been so mortified and flustered she hadn’t been thinking at all. Afterwards she believed it was sheer coincidence that Velda had selected Durwin rather than Jarold, say, or one of the guards, but now she’d had time to consider it properly she was convinced it was no mere coincidence. Velda must have known about her and Durwin all along: probably she knew everything about them, though it wasn’t from Lia’s lips. And so she chose him for the demonstration, out of pity for a frightened country girl whose virginity was to be sacrificed for a princess’s edification.

  For that act of kindness above all others, Lia was determined to help her former tutor, and so she cautiously made her way down to the dungeons, the old catacombs, finding a torch at the entrance to light her way. She was soon lost in the maze of tunnels and chambers carved into the solid rock by ancient hands, and began to fear she would wander beneath ground until she died of hunger or thirst, ending her young days as rotting food for the rats she knew were watching from the darkness that enveloped her. It was cold, and damp, and smelt of death and misery.

  At long last it was the sound of a hand-crank that finally guided her to the right place. The metallic clank of pawl against ratchet echoed through the passageways, faint at first, then louder as Lia drew closer to the source. She hurried along, and after two false turnings reached the place she was seeking. She set the torch in a ring on the wall and went forward silently to peer into the small chamber.

  Velda lay on her back on a table. She was naked, arms stretched above her head, wrists fastened down. There were straps about her ankles, and ropes ran from there to pulleys on the walls, one on each side, and from the pulleys to a hand-crank. There were two guards in the room, one of whom was turning the handle, drawing Velda’s legs apart. They were spread wide even now, but the man didn’t stop, his eyes on his victim all the while. Velda’s groin had been freshly shaved, and her sex appeared pink and especially vulnerable.

  As the crank turned Velda began to moan pitifully and to beg for mercy. Lia would have helped her if she could, but she had no weapon, not even a knife, and she knew she could do nothing against two men. Finally the guard stopped turning the crank. He put his hands on her thighs, pressing his thumbs into the flesh close to her vagina as though testing the rigor in her muscles. He went back to the crank and wound the handle slowly. Three more clicks of the ratchet and Velda’s moan turned into a rising protest. He tested her again, then went and gave a single click. After a third testing he nodded, apparently satisfied.

  Velda was clearly in great distress, her legs at an impossible angle. Lia, who had assumed that stretching her in this way comprised the torture, was shocked and dismayed when the man produced a lash. And it was no ordinary lash, but the very implement Velda had shown Lia all those weeks before – the one with the vicious lead-tipped thongs.

  The man flicked his wrist casually, striking her tummy with the lash. She shrieked and her body jerked.

  ‘Fetch the captain,’ he said to his companion, who turned to leave as Lia scuttled away from the door, around the corner, her heart in her throat. She heard the soldier’s footsteps retreating and still she waited, then long minutes later the man returned with Fulke. Lia crept forward once more.

  ‘Has she said anything?’ Fulke asked.

  ‘Nothing we haven’t heard before, captain,’ the first guard said, handing the lash to Fulke, who took it and moved close to Velda.

  ‘Where is she?’ he demanded. Velda answered quickly, her voice wavering as she repeated what she’d said in the council chamber, telling all she knew. Fulke nodded, then flicked her with the lash. She shrieked again, sobbing the details of Elfrida and Lia’s escape, admitting her own part in it. Fulke continued to question her, after each sobbed response striking her with the lash, and listening to her suffering filled Lia with fury and sick fear.

  ‘She doesn’t like it on the cunt, does she?’ he said casually.

  ‘No, captain,’ the guard replied with a gap-toothed grin. ‘Not many do.’

  After a while Fulke stepped back and handed the lash to the guard. ‘Carry on,’ he said. ‘Shred her flesh if you have to, but I want the truth. I expect you’ve heard we’re withdrawing tomorrow. Work on her until the last minute.’

  ‘Aye, captain. And after?’

  Fulke shrugged. ‘After that I’ve no interest in her. She’s all yours, if you think there’s anything worth salvaging. If not, cut her throat.’

  He started to leave and Lia hurried away. She grabbed the torch and ran, but somehow she came to a dead end. She retraced her steps and arrived at a junction of passages which all looked the same, and as she stood wondering which way to go she heard someone coming. She turned and fled again, but the enshrouding shadows confused and panicked her for she ran straight into the soldier whose footsteps she’d heard.

  ‘Well, well,’ he said, grabbing her wrist. ‘What have we here?’

  ‘I… I’m lost,’ Lia gabbled. ‘I don’t know how I got down here and now I can’t find my way out…’

  The big man looked down at her for several long moments. ‘Seems you’re in luck,’ he said, ‘because I can show you the way out.’

  Lia stared at him with wide, fearful eyes. ‘And I’m in luck too, it seems,’ he went on. ‘We’re pulling out tomorrow, and here was me bemoaning the fact I’ve no pretty little thing to poke and to carry my loot. And what do you know, the next moment you come bumping right into my arms. If that’s not lucky I don’t know what is.’

  He kept a tight hold on her wrist as he dragged her out of the dungeons and up to the ward. It was fully dark and she knew it was late, but the place was full of soldiers. All around was bustle and noise, for with the invaders about to leave she supposed there was much to do.

  The sergeant took her straight to the castle blacksmith where he asked for a long chain. One end was padlocked around her waist, while the other was welded to a ring through which the sergeant threaded his belt. Fastened together securely in this fashion, he took her back to the keep where he reported to a man Lia recognised from the council chamber.

  ‘I’ll be leaving then, captain,’ the sergeant said. ‘Any last orders for the men?’

  ‘Just what we agreed,’ the captain said, glancing at Lia. ‘I see you found yourself a packhorse, Hadw
in. You did well; Lord Torkel himself had his eye on this one. Best get moving before he sees her and takes her from you.’

  ‘Thanks for the warning, captain,’ the sergeant said, glancing over his shoulder warily. ‘Break my heart to lose her it would, for I intend to work her hard. Ride her hard, too.’

  On that ominous note he took her out. She hoped she might see Kerta or one of the others, so they’d know what had happened to her at least, but there wasn’t an Attlander in sight, only Osburg men. They left the castle and went down into the town, finally stopping at a house just a few streets away from Osric and his lads. If one of the archers were to spot her there might be a fight, though she didn’t see how it would benefit her. No matter which side won she would still be somebody’s prisoner.

  The house was crammed with soldiers. They were camped in every room, and even in the hallways. The sergeant led her upstairs where the story was the same. There must have been fully two hundred men in the place, she thought, and from the manner in which they greeted the sergeant she could tell he was held in high regard.

  ‘We leave tomorrow at first light, lads,’ he said, a dozen times at least. ‘Spread the word. The captain will join us on the road. Be ready by first light.’

  There were women too, Attlanders, perhaps a score in total. Spoils of war, like Lia, with tired faces and anxious eyes. The sergeant took her through into a back room where she came face to face with a fair-haired young woman. Their eyes met and they both gawped. It was Tilda; and Lia had never been so glad to see a friendly face before. Tilda opened her mouth but Lia frowned and shook her head. Tilda was no fool, understood instantly and turned away. The sergeant padlocked Lia’s chain to the handle of a heavy chest and left without a word. Lia sat on the floor and watched the men around her checking their gear ready for the journey, then Tilda drifted over and sat beside her. She too had a chain about her waist, which she’d wrapped round and round like a belt.

  ‘Lia,’ she whispered, giving her hand a surreptitious squeeze, ‘it’s so good to see you. What happened to you?’

  ‘You’d best not use my real name,’ Lia whispered back. ‘They’re looking for me and they mustn’t find me. Call me Uli.’

  Quickly she told Tilda everything that had happened, and by the time she finished Tilda’s mouth was hanging open. ‘She’s safe then, the princess?’ she whispered, looking around to make sure no one was listening.

  ‘She was when I saw her last. I just hope Holmann and Dagna don’t make a mess of the rescue and get everybody caught.’

  ‘It’s a miracle Dagna’s still there,’ Tilda said. ‘I’d have thought she’d be some soldier’s woman by now, as attractive as she is.’

  Lia explained about Holmann’s arrangement with the officers, then asked Tilda how she had fallen into the enemy’s hands.

  ‘Once they’d captured the keep the Osburg soldiers were just grabbing any women who took their fancy,’ Tilda said. ‘They caught me and Clady in a storeroom where we’d hidden when the alarm sounded. We didn’t know where else to go.’

  ‘They took Durwin and Jarold,’ Lia said, ‘though no one knows why.’

  ‘I do. They were rounding up men for work parties to bury the dead. Hundreds were killed during the attack, they say. At least some of our soldiers must have stayed to fight, though I know a lot ran away. It’s not that they’re cowards, they just lost heart when the king was killed.’

  Lia was relieved to hear that Durwin was destined for nothing worse than manual work. She’d been worrying about him ever since Holmann told her he’d been taken, for she knew some men preferred other men to women.

  ‘I see Hadwin brought you here,’ Tilda said glumly. ‘I belong to one of his lot, Tormod. They’re as bad as each other, sad to say. Tormod likes to gamble but he’s useless, and when he loses he lends me out in payment for his debts. I’ve been fucked by half the men in the company already.’

  Lia had no illusions as to her own fate, for Hadwin had bragged to his captain that he intended to ‘ride her hard’ as well as ‘work her hard’. She hoped at least that he might keep her solely for his own use, as she had no wish to repeat her experience with Osric’s archers.

  Sergeant Hadwin returned in the early hours, and the first thing he did was push Lia onto her back, drag up her skirts, and fuck her. His men watched eagerly as he grunted and thrust into her, and some even made crude comments of encouragement, but the sergeant ignored the lot of them, his cold eyes on her face the whole while. Lia bore his rough treatment in silence, knowing that nothing she did or said would make any difference.

  When he’d finished he told her to pack his things, showing her what was his. He had a small pile of loot that included silver plates and goblets, and a gold cross she feared must have been looted from a church, and Lia wondered that he didn’t fear for his soul, stealing such a thing. There was jewellery too; bead necklaces and bracelets, a few rings, and a silver brooch shaped like a swan, presumably taken from some rich merchant’s wife.

  She piled everything on a blanket and tied the corners together, then tried to lift it, for Hadwin told her she would be carrying it on the journey. It was heavy and she struggled to raise it above knee height. With Tilda’s help she finally managed to get it up on her shoulder, but found it almost impossible to manage. She set it down with a clatter wondering how she was going to cope, and Hadwin rounded on her.

  ‘Careful with that stuff, slut!’ he snarled. ‘Dent one of them goblets and I’ll put a dent in you, see if I don’t!’

  Tilda had a similar burden to carry for Tormod, and after they’d snatched a few hours’ sleep they were woken at first light and told to make ready to leave. They helped each other get their bundles of loot out to the courtyard, where they found soldiers preparing to depart, loading packhorses, mules and carts with personal gear and supplies for the journey. The two human packhorses were loaded up in turn, and their chains fastened to the back of a two-wheeled cart pulled by a sturdy pony. Then the last thing Hadwin and Tormod did was cut away their smocks at the back from the waist down, exposing their buttocks and the backs of their legs.

  ‘All the better for whipping, eh Tormod?’ Hadwin said.

  ‘Aye,’ the soldier agreed. ‘They’ll need plenty of encouragement I reckon, as the leagues roll by.’

  With no more ado the company set off, joining a long column of foot troops leaving the town. Lia stumbled along behind the cart with her burden growing heavier and more uncomfortable by the minute. The objects in the blanket dug into her shoulder, and before they had even passed through the town gate she was gasping, but their two owners were as good as their word, whipping the girl’s buttocks and legs with knotted rope to urge them on.

  ‘Don’t you dare drop ’em, either of you,’ Hadwin warned, ‘or you’ll both catch it!’

  They followed the old pilgrims’ route, north towards the hills, which meant they would pass through Lia’s village. The pace of the column was slow and it took a good few hours to reach Three Elms, with Lia fearful every step of the way what they’d find when they got there. Her heart was in her mouth as they entered the village, but to her relief she saw that the huts hadn’t been burned down and there were no corpses in the street. There was no one around at all, living or dead, and the place had an abandoned air. Hut doors stood open, and from the few items scattered about she guessed the looters had been, but the inhabitants were gone.

  As they left the village Lia risked a glance back over her shoulder. She was leaving her family and everything she had known, and grief threatened to choke her. This last look might have cost her dear, for she stumbled on a tussock and almost fell. She regained her balance just in time, though the near call earned her a flurry of lashes from both men’s ropes.

  At noon a halt was called and they could finally set down their loads and sink to the ground, exhausted. The captain Hadwin had talked to back at the castle came riding along
on his horse and hailed his men, who lay sprawled on the grass eating and taking their ease. Once they’d eaten the horses and mules were fed and watered, but all Lia and Tilda received were leftovers, stale crusts of bread and gristle, which they nevertheless devoured hungrily. But they were given no water, and when Tilda asked for some she was cuffed around the head for insolence.

  ‘You want a drink?’ Tormod sneered, unfastening his hose and exposing his cock and wagging it at her. ‘Here then, come suck for it.’

  Tilda hung her head and the men roared with laughter. Then the break was over and the two girls climbed wearily to their feet and shouldered their burdens once more. The cart lurched forward, and the dreadful journey continued.

  Chapter Nineteen

  When finally they stopped for the night, Lia and Tilda were weary beyond words. Their arms and shoulders were aching so badly their loads had to be lifted from them, at which point they collapsed on the ground. Scraps of food were again tossed in their direction, but they were so tired they had little appetite. They were also given water, mercifully, which they gulped down greedily, but even as the water skins were being pulled from lips eager for more, the men’s cocks took their place. So for a while Lia sucked Hadwin and Tilda sucked Tormod, then the two men ejaculated and as Lia swallowed the warm, sour fluid she feared this was to be her future; long days of pain and toil followed by nights of abuse. She would have prayed to Saint Ivar for deliverance, but she knew he had abandoned Attland and all its people. How else could they have ended up in such dire straits?

  They were left chained to the cart all night, and were obliged to relieve their bladders by squatting there in the dirt with the men in the company watching them and jeering. From time to time someone would approach Hadwin or Tormod and a coin would change hands. Then the man would move to the cart, and Lia or Tilda would be obliged to suck his cock, or lie on her back while he fucked her. All night long there was a steady stream of unwelcome attention, so they got precious little sleep.