A Toast to Starry Nights (31 page)

I wanted to vomit and cover him with my
retribution, pitiful as it may be.

The guard hauled the beaten priest back
to his feet and nudged him towards the table where I lay. My eyes made for the
knife at Landross's side. How I would relish skewering him with it, repeatedly.
I hated this man. Crispin Landross, Demon Lord of Eskerfell. Oh, how I hated
him.

“Come now, priest! Time to enjoy earthly
pleasures of the flesh.”

Tears ran silently down my face as
Englishmen positioned the holy man between my thighs. Hands everywhere held me
down, and some hands were on me simply to grope. It felt as though the room was
crashing down around me, the trapped feeling of no where to go, no where to
hide.

I wished God would either stop the lot
of them or kill me, right now in his infinite mercy.

“Look into your lover's face, wench.
Isn't he a handsome priest?”

My eyes were glazed with tears.
Indistinct bruises and blood were the only thing I could see of his visage, not
that I wanted to view the pity and shame which must have lurked in the holy
man's eyes.

Landross unsheathed his knife and held
it to my neck so the tip rested in the hollow of my throat. I tried to look
past the blurred face of my unwilling rapist to the smoke-stained rafters of
the hall.

“You will fuck her, before all in this
room. If you do not, her blood is on your hands. And after you come to terms
with that, I will let my men have your ass. Ever get fucked in the bum, you
papist pig? I hear all educated in a monastery learn such lessons for lack of
women.”

The priest rasped a reply. “Your source
for a Catholic education is sadly wanting, my lord.”

Landross sheathed the knife again and
then let his fist fly. He hit an already bruised part of the priest's face,
causing blood to spray over me. “Keep talking, priest and I'll make you fuck
her in the ass like a boy. On second thought, you would enjoy that too much,
Sodomite.” The English bastard turned and called to one of his men. “Bring me a
crossbow. Does this building have a donjon?”

A soldier handed Landross a cocked
crossbow and answered, “Nay. Best is a storage room off the kitchens. Has two
bolts on the outside and no windows.”

The priest rest between my thighs, his
arms propping his torso up off mine. Where he and I touched, his skin felt
clammy as my own. I shivered at the sense of impending doom which careened down
my back. With his raspy voice, the holy man said “I cannot do this, my lord.
Kill me if you must, but do not harm this girl. She is innocent of her uncle's
crimes against the crown.”

“She was caught with a small fortune in
coins and jewels. A thief deserves to be punished, and this is the punishment I
have chosen. If you do no start fucking her, I will shoot. You will not get
another chance to plead for her life. If you wish to protect her, priest, then
you better start thinking of alter boy asses and get to fucking the wench who
waits beneath you. Help her find God.” Landross laughed at his own joke.

Would that the fury I felt inside break
forth from my body and strike down each and every Englishman who followed the
bastard of all bastards.

“Kiss the pretty girl, priest. She
awaits your love.”

My eyes were shut as tight as I could
manage. First I felt gentle puffs of breath upon my cheek, “I am sorry, but I
cannot have the sin of your death upon me,” the priest whispered as he kissed
my stiff lips.

“Open your mouth, girl! You kiss like a
maiden. How do you expect the priest to fuck you if you can't get him hard?” I
tried to stem the tears that burned trails down my cheeks at the laughter of
Landross's garrison staring at the priest and I.

Hesitant, I did as Landross commanded,
opening my mouth to kiss this naked stranger between my legs. Doing my best to
ignore the flakes of blood that now tainted my mouth, I pretended with all my
heart that it was Padraic I kissed. I did not want this innocent priest's blood
on my hands, he would not die because of me. If the Englishman wanted an act, I
would give him one.

Imagining it Padraic laying atop me
while we frolicked in his bed last night helped to make the reality fade away
somewhat. It was easier to bear another man's burgeoning hardness pressing
against my nethers if I could convince myself it was indeed my husband.

The Demon Lord's voice crashed through
my mind to disturb the escape I crafted from reality. “Look boys! All these
Irish bitches get hot for cock if you treat them right.”

The priest stopped kissing me enough to
whisper, “Ignore him. Do what you must to survive.” And with that, he kissed me
deeply to be rewarded with catcalls.

“Ah, a priest sports holy wood to
crucify the bitch. Fuck her now, priest. Enough with niceties.”

I could hear the priest gulp. “Again,
forgive me. I have not the courage to sacrifice my self and leave you alone
with these men.” With that whispered into my ear, I felt the probing of my core
and then he buried himself deep within. Drunken hoots and more catcalls shook
the walls.

Tears formed and blurred my vision more,
a feat I thought impossible. I wasn't ready for his entry, not the same way I
was ready for Padraic upon our wedding night. It hurt to be stretched asunder,
it hurt to be atop this table and held down by men excited by the
entertainment. I may not have been violated by a knife's hilt, but that does
not lessen the horrors of being held down and violated, watched by a hundred
eyes.

I am not Mara. I am not stoic as she.
Tears ran freely as I hiccuped my sorrow and shame. A turn of my head away from
the priest laboring above me led me me staring in the depths of blackness. The
Demon Lord smiled a wicked grin and whispered almost lovingly, “You do not look
like you are enjoying his attentions. Do you need some help? Mattins, have you
anything to make the lady smile?”

A tall man walked towards the table and
released his engorged lust before my eyes. His hand grasped my breast tight,
and he lowered his mouth to suckle my nipple.

I hated how he dared touched me, dared
to do what my husband did which incited an inferno of lust upon my nuptial
night. I despised how he turned something sweet to me into a horror. If only
the stinking beast would stop, if only this Mattins would go away, taking his
master and English brethren with him. Held down, I could not fight him. The
more I writhed away from the Englishman's mouth, the deeper the priest sank
inside me.

Please God, stop this horror... please
God, Sweet Jesu and his blessed mother Mary
.

It was bad enough with just the priest
and I forced to act out a farce to save each other. Even though the priest and
I participated in this mockery, I knew I would not escape alive. Landross's
reputation was well-earned for being equated with demons. The man was Satan
himself.

Again, I closed my eyes and tried to
lose myself into a better memory. I could not do it. Mattins removed his lips
from my person and grabbed my scalp to force himself into my mouth. His grip
would not allow me to move my head to dislodge him. Instead he forced himself
deeper into my mouth until I choked. He used my mouth as if it were my sheath
until his lust spurt down my throat in a disgusting salty reminder of my shame.

“Better, wench? Or do you need another
to help you smile?”

At those words, the priest stopped. “I
have done as you bid my lord. I can do no more.”

“You are not done. But I can see you are
limp as an eel, and limp cocks are worthless for my punishments.” Landross
called to a short, fat man to come forth. “Pidge, take her to the store room
off the kitchens. Lock her up.”

At his words, his men relented their
grip on my person and I was able to sit up. I felt freezing cold, dizzy, ill,
and very sore at my thigh's apex. I expelled what little contents I had in my
stomach at the feet of Landross. The part of me that wasn't in shock wanted
desperately to coat him in my regurgitation. I made do with the few splatters
that reached his mud-crusted boots.

“The priest, my lord?” A scruffy dark
haired man dressed in leathers stared down at the silently crying churchman.

“I am not done with him.” Those evil
black eyes looked my way. “Your turn will be soon, girl. You will need your
rest for later.”

Pidge grabbed my hair, wrapped it around
his fist and began to drag me from the hall towards the kitchens. Every time I
quickened my pace, my captor would yank harder. Once we reached the store room,
he threw the heavy oaken door open and tossed me inside. I fell upon the
flagstone floor landing on my bum, my legs thrown apart. That fat, stinking man
took it as an invitation to finish what his master started.

I fought him as hard as I could,
scratching deep weals down his cheek as I went for his bloodshot eyes. I tried
kicking, biting, rolling and doing everything I could to keep that pig off me.

I failed.

Three times he slapped me hard. Then
twice, a fist to my middle. My ears rang and my eyes watered from his blows. I
had not the heart to fight any more. What was the use? Whatever they wanted,
those English bastards took. My consolation was that at least I wasn't raped
again before a roomful of swine.

When he was finished, Pidge the human
pig left without a word. The door swung shut and plunged me into darkness. The
bolts were thrown and I was locked away, awaiting the next torment they awaited
to heap upon my soul. Only a tiny ribbon of light leaked beneath the door. Left
alone with my thoughts, I began to mourn in earnest. A tear shed for every
thought about my sweet sisters and doting nursemaid, my kind uncle, my beloved
husband. All torn from me on a single day, within the span of minutes. Now,
only Mara and I remained with a priest, the three of us cruelly abused for
amusement.

As pitiful as I found my situation, I
felt even more sorrow for that poor holy man. To be forced to commit rape under
threat of death... who knew such evil could lurk in the hearts of men? Surely
not all English were depraved as the demons in hell.

Were they?

I do not know how long I waited in that
tiny chamber, naked upon the cold stone floor. After a while, I heard the
screaming of women, shouting of men. The door to my prison opened and a body
was flung inside before again, the entry locked and our warder gone.

“Ona?”

Thank God, it was Mara. “What is
happening? What is the screaming about?”

Mara broke into tears. Wretched sobs
which echoed off stone walls to mock us in our plight. “That bastard order the
cook's son stripped and the priest to violate the poor lad. The priest refused.
The cook screamed, they beat her. She was ordered back to the kitchens to feed
them. The boy was whipped and sent to the stables to sleep. The.... the priest,
he's... they are taking turns doing to him what they wanted the priest to do to
the lad.”

Oh sweet Jesu, please stop these
monsters and their evil!

I wept for that poor soul, tortured and
tormented. For those evil men to heap atrocities upon one's head for any reason
was foul.

Mara continued in a whisper, “The cook
is going to get the wolfbane from my chamber, She will taint their food. Once
they are incapacitated, she will free us. We can collect your dowry and what
ever coins we can get from these dead bastards and make our way to France.”
Hope in her voice shined like a candle in the dark. “We just need to stay alive
the night.”

Hope dimmed in my heart. Would we last
that long?

“Ona, are you well? What did they do to
you?”

Since she hadn't been in the hall when
Landross set his sights on me, she did not witness my hell. I didn't answer her
directly. “Are you well? When you were taken away, I saw blood on your leg...did
he...were you cut?

“Nay. My moon cycle has started. Could
not be a better time. I will not have to worry about spawning an English
bastard. What did they do to you, Ona? Answer me.”

It took a long moment for me to put my
thought together. Can one put words to the unspeakable? “That bastard forced
the priest to rape me. If the priest did not, the Demon Lord was going to shoot
at me with a crossbow. When I failed to enjoy the priest's attentions, he had
one of his men do to me what he did to you. While the priest was inside me.”

“I shall feel no guilt when I step over
that bastard's body when we escape. He raped me with his knife. I will return
the favor, but I'll use the pointy end. I want him still awake when I do this.
And when he's done being fucked with steel, I will cut off his worm and shove
it in his own mouth to lick clean.”

The thought of vengeance burned bright.
After all that has happened this night, I will feel no guilt helping her
achieve her revenge.

We sat in silence, listening to footfalls
come and go. The low rumble of voices and boisterous drunken laughter slithered
under the door to fill our ears. After a while, the door opened and the naked
priest was pushed inside with us. He fell to the floor in a heap, ignored by
the Englishman. I recognized the warder. It was the same that took my cousin to
be cleaned. “You.” He pointed to Mara. “Come with me.”