Bondmaiden (20 page)

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, Hadwin. 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.

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.

At dawn the camp roused and beasts of burden, both the four-legged variety and the two, were made ready for the journey. Weary from their tribulations of the previous day and from lack of sleep, Lia and Tilda were in difficulties from the outset. They staggered along trying desperately to keep up with the cart, for whenever they fell behind they were hauled forward by the chains around their waists, causing their loads to lurch in a hazardous fashion. Lia knew it was only a matter of time until one of them dropped their bundles, and halfway through the morning her fears were realised when she tripped and went sprawling. She was dragged for many yards before the cart was halted, and even as she lay in the dirt Hadwin lashed her viciously.

‘You clumsy mare!’ he snarled, his face twisted in fury. ‘I’ll teach you!’ He rained blow after blow on her defenceless body, and all Lia could do was curl into a ball and cover her face with her arms. After a while he stopped and went to inspect his ill-gotten loot, while Lia dragged herself painfully to her feet.

‘Damaged, as I feared,’ he pronounced, glowering at Lia menacingly. ‘You’ll pay for this tonight! I’ll think up something special for you, mark my words.’

Tilda was similarly threatened by Tormod when, later that same day, she also staggered and lost control of her burden, and it was with heavy hearts that the two continued their arduous journey.

They camped that night near a marsh, and it was the terrain that gave Hadwin and Tormod the idea for a suitably fiendish punishment for their two packhorses. Lia and Tilda were taken to the edge of the marsh and stripped naked, then made to sit with their backs to a stunted willow tree. Their chains were passed around the trunk and padlocked together, and their wrists bound with rope and tied above their heads. Within moments Lia understood the nature of their punishment, for the swamp attracted clouds of mosquitoes which started to land on their exposed flesh, and to bite. Wriggle and squirm as they might they couldn’t deter the midges, and the two girls were soon shrieking pitifully as the voracious insects tormented them cruelly.

The men walked away laughing at their slaves’ predicament, and so began the most uncomfortable night Lia had ever known. By morning every inch of her flesh itched abominably, and with hands tied above her head even the measure of relief she might have achieved by scratching was denied her.

Their owners untied them and dragged them back to the camp where they were fastened to the cart, naked still, for their smocks had been left back at the willow tree, and loaded up with the hated bundles once more. Shortly before they set off another woman was tied to the cart, though it was a rope around her waist and not a chain. She bore a load too, packed onto a wooden frame of the sort travellers sometimes employed, with stout straps that went over the shoulder, leaving her arms free. The man who brought her shook hands with Hadwin and Tormod and the three exchanged hearty greetings, so it was clear they were old friends.

‘How’s the gonads, Quinn?’ Hadwin enquired. ‘Bleeding like a stuck pig you were the last time we saw you, and screaming fit to wake the dead.’

‘As well I might,’ the newcomer said, rubbing his groin. ‘Any man would scream who thought his nuts were cut off. But it were just a nick in my ball bag, though it bled enough to fill a pail, nigh on. The surgeon stitched it and it’s fine, if a mite sore still.’

‘It takes more than an Attland arrow to finish off one of Zelig’s lads,’ Tormod said. ‘And we caught the man who shot it, you’ll be pleased to hear. Cut off his balls in payment for yours, as we thought yours were gone for good. I saved ’em for a while, meaning to give ’em to you, but they started to stink so I threw ’em to the dogs.’

Quinn laughed and clapped him on the back, and the three walked away in high spirits.

‘We should cross the border some time today,’ the woman said. ‘That’s why they’re in a good mood. They’ll have a feast to celebrate, I expect, once we reach Osburg. They’ll break open a few casks of Attland ale and slaughter a few Attland cattle. Likely they’ll mount a few Attland women too, if there’s any left who haven’t already been mounted.’

The call to march came from the front of the column and was passed back down the line. Men and beasts began to move, and Lia forced her stiff legs into action once more. The new woman settled the pack on her shoulders and stepped out briskly. ‘Aye,’ she added sombrely, ‘a wild old time they’ll have tonight, count on it.’

‘You don’t sound too happy about it,’ Tilda said. ‘Are you worrying you’ll be one of those who gets mounted?’

‘Me?’ the woman said in surprise. ‘Lord, I wish that’s all it was. No, it’s just that I know my man’ll want to play forfeits, like always.’

‘Your man? That soldier, you mean?’

‘Aye, that one; Quinn. Nigh on a year he’s owned me, for my sins.’

‘You’re not from the town then, like us?’ Tilda said, looking confused. ‘Not from Attland?’

The woman shook her head. ‘Not Attland, nor Osburg either. I’m Gant born and raised, though I haven’t set eyes on the place since I got took. Odetta’s the name, by the way.’

Odetta told them her story. She’d been taken in a raid some eleven months before and ended up slave to Quinn, who she always referred to as ‘my man’, though they were most decidedly master and slave and not husband and wife. Though she didn’t say as much, Lia guessed Quinn treated her badly.

‘Once he realised I was good at forfeits he took me on every campaign. Makes a fortune out of me, he does. Not that I ever see a penny, for he’s a tight-fisted bastard, my man.’

‘What’s forfeits?’ Tilda asked.

‘Forfeits?’ she said. ‘Why, it’s a game: a gambling game. Mad keen on it they are, this lot. If your men have got loot you’ll end up playing it too, most likely. And you reckon you’ve never even heard of it? You’re in for a nasty shock then, that’s all I can say. Not a nice game at all, isn’t forfeits.’

Lia and Tilda looked at each other, and it was clear they were having the same thoughts: should they ask Odetta about it, or would it be better to remain ignorant and hope they’d be spared? At precisely the same instant they both nodded glumly.

‘Tell us how you play it, Odetta,’ Lia said. ‘I think we should know what’s in store for us.’

‘Aye,’ Odetta said, ‘I reckon so too. You’ll do better if you know what it’s about, so there’s less chance you’ll earn yourselves a beating. They hate losing, this lot, and especially they hate to lose badly. So then… where to start?’

It started, apparently, with a dozen men sitting in a circle, and behind each man a woman awaiting her turn to play. In the middle of the circle was a thirteenth man called the stickman, on account of the stick he carried. The stickman wasn’t a contestant as such, but rather judge and jury. A shallow wooden tray called the board was passed around the circle from man to man, and on the tray were twelve bone dice bearing symbols rather than the usual spots. Odetta claimed she didn’t know what the symbols meant precisely, nor how they were interpreted, even though she’d played the game two dozen times or more. It was complicated, she said, and the meanings seemed to alter at different stages in the game. The men understood it, and the stickman was there to adjudicate if there was a dispute, as sometimes happened.

‘Depending on what your man rolls, you might have to pay a forfeit or you might not. Generally you do, though. The forfeits themselves vary from really easy to nigh on impossible. It might be something as simple as sucking just one man’s cock and swallowing his spunk, or you might have to service all twelve. The forfeits don’t all involve the men, mind. There’s a couple where you have to fuck yourself on a pole they plant in the ground in the middle of the circle, either up the cunt or up the arse. Whatever the forfeit is the stickman decides if you’ve passed or failed, but either way the board moves on. If you fail three you’re out of the game and your man loses his stake. When there’s just one woman left her man wins the whole pot.’

‘Just how bad does it get?’ Tilda asked. ‘What’s the worst forfeit of all, would you say?’

Odetta considered the question. ‘The stake up the arse is pretty bad.’ She nodded to herself as she pondered the punishment. ‘That’s bad, and so’s the stone. They heat up a big stone in the fire beforehand and you have to sit on it for a count of ten. If you jump up before the stickman taps you with his stick, you lose. I’m good at the stone, if I do say so myself. It’s not that I’m braver, or my bum’s tougher than anyone else’s, it’s just that I know what’s going to happen so it doesn’t come as a shock. There’s many a female will sit on the stone and jump straight back up again with a shriek, as she’s not prepared for just how hot it is. I know, so I’ve got a better chance of seeing it through.’

They came to a short steep hill, and Odetta stopped talking while they struggled up. Ahead Lia could see the line of hills that marked the border between Attland and Osburg. Considering how hard the journey had been on relatively flat ground, she didn’t see how they could possibly manage the obstacle before them.

‘Some of it’s pure luck in how the dice fall,’ Odetta continued once they reached the crest of the hill, ‘and some of it’s skill or toughness, whatever you want to call it, on the victim’s part. Steady there; are you all right?’ She grabbed Lia’s pack, which was slipping from her shoulder, and heaved it back into position. ‘Okay now?’

‘Thanks,’ Lia gasped. ‘We can’t afford another night like last night, can we Tilda?’ Odetta asked what she meant, and they told her about the punishment they’d received for dropping their burdens and denting the silverware.

‘That can’t be why they punished you,’ she said. ‘They’ll melt the whole lot down soon as we get home; they always do. Bullion is what they want, gold and silver to mint into new coin, not plates and cups and suchlike.’

Lia and Tilda looked at each other in disbelief. Could it be true? Was this apparent concern for the loot merely a trick, a game the men were playing to give them an excuse to punish the pair of them? Whatever the truth of it, Odetta’s quick reactions saved each of them more than once that day, and as the light faded they finally reached the top of the ridge and began to descend. Lia shivered, for her homeland was behind her and ahead lay foreign lands and a frightening, uncertain future.

Odetta had predicted a feast, and it was clear the men were expecting some such celebration, but the captain had bad news for them.

‘Baran of Attland and Roland of Darkheim are trailing us with three thousand men at their backs, so our scouts tell us,’ he said, ‘and they’re coming on fast. No doubt they were hoping to catch us before we crossed the border, though they failed in that. We’re to rest here for three hours till moonrise and then press on, for Lord Torkel wants to put distance between them and us. Once we reach Stenger Forest we’ll be safe. Even an army of three thousand will think twice about following us into a place where we can set ambushes and pick them off.’

‘Sounds to me like we’re running, captain,’ Hadwin muttered. ‘I don’t like running, especially from Attland and Darkheim scum.’

There were growls of assent from the rest of the company, and it was clear these fighting men were in a belligerent mood. The captain grinned wolfishly, regarding them almost with affection. ‘Neither do I, lads,’ he said, ‘but Lord Torkel commands here, and orders are orders. We won’t run far though, never fear. Riders have gone on ahead to summon the reserves, and once they join us we’ll turn and give these interlopers a hard lesson. No one marches into Osburg with banners flying and horns blaring and lives to tell the tale!’

His voice rose stirringly at the end, and a great roar went up. Lia prayed that Prince Baran wouldn’t plunge recklessly ahead in his thirst for vengeance, no matter how just the cause. Enough good Attland men had died already without sacrificing more.

The moon rose, and by its light the trek was resumed. To their great relief Lia and Tilda were allowed to put their loads on the cart, and it was just as well, for the pace was double what it had been and even unburdened they were struggling to keep up. Hadwin and Tormod marched just behind, as they had at the start of the journey, and were joined by Quinn, Odetta’s master. All three took great delight in whipping their slaves on, lashing them until they howled, and Lia understood that the men, angry and resentful at having to flee their enemies, were taking it out on the only Attlanders within striking distance. That Odetta was from Gant and not Attland seemed to matter not at all, though she did at least have her smock to protect her somewhat from the knotted rope’s cruel bite, unlike Lia and Tilda who were naked still.