Bondmaiden (25 page)

‘Call yourself a servant of God?’ she said in an anguished whine. ‘Rather a hound of Satan, I say, to treat women so.’

‘How dare you impugn me?’ the bishop snarled furiously. ‘How dare you? Hold her while I teach her the price of such gross impudence.’ Bruno and the priest grasped her limbs firmly and the bishop tightened the screws even further. Rilla’s face turned white, her eyes closed and at last, inevitably, she began to wail. Then she was released to join her sister in the corner, and a more wretched pair it was hard to imagine. Lia was now the only one of the trio still silent; a fact that didn’t go unnoticed. The bishop drew her close and tightened the nipple clamps, and when finally she sank to the floor alongside the others, she too was sobbing pitifully.

‘A fine sight, brothers, don’t you agree?’ Lothar said as he regarded his three victims. ‘It is always gratifying to watch young women seeking salvation through pain.’

‘Indeed, my lord bishop, it is most rewarding,’ the priest said enthusiastically. ‘So much so that I was wondering… can you not remain with us here for a few days? I’m sure Rilla and Ilse would benefit greatly from your wisdom and expertise in such matters.’

‘Alas,’ the bishop said ruefully, ‘I cannot. I am on an important undertaking for the archbishop, and must not tarry. I shall be most happy to call in on the way back, however, when we will have all the time in the world to put them to the trial, and this one of mine along with them. But now let us sit and enjoy the fruits of our labours. They trill most prettily, do they not?’

‘As sweet a sound as I’ve ever heard, my lord bishop,’ the priest agreed. ‘And such floods of tears! Enough to fill a pond, you would think.’

‘Female tears are easily shed,’ Lothar said with a dismissive wave of the hand. ‘For myself, I take little note of them. It is the eyes you must watch, for they do not lie. Pain and suffering can be read there plain as any book.’

‘I bow to your superior knowledge, my lord,’ the priest said humbly. ‘A cup of wine, perhaps, while you instruct me further?’

‘An excellent idea,’ Lothar said with a broad smile. ‘Saving souls is thirsty work!’

They took their leave of the priest the following morning and set out on their journey once more. In no time at all, it seemed, the bishop was complaining of sore feet and hobbling along in a pained fashion. Lia was in pain too, her nipples being sore still, but she bore it stoically and in silence as befitted her station. For she was a serf once more, her days as a lady’s companion in the splendour of the royal apartments being a distant memory.

They made camp early, in a small clearing by a wooden bridge, under which flowed a stream, and while Lia and Bruno lit a fire and set up the bishop’s shelter, Lothar limped off to find a place where he could bathe his feet, the banks where they were being too steep to get down. When all was ready Bruno turned to Lia with a strange look in his eye. It was the first time they’d been alone together for any length of time, and she felt oddly vulnerable, knowing his great strength.

‘Kneel down,’ he rumbled.

‘What for?’ she asked in alarm.

‘Kneel.’ His huge hands clamped on her shoulders, pressing down, and she sank to her knees, her heart pounding. He lifted his cassock and she gasped as she saw his cock, for it was alarmingly long even though it wasn’t fully erect.

‘Use your mouth,’ he told her. ‘Do what you did to the outlaw captain.’

He’d been watching then, when she knelt and sucked the leader’s cock after the failed raid on the village. Probably the image had burned into a brain unprepared for such sights, so that he couldn’t rid himself of it. The desire to have her do it to him must have been growing ever since, awaiting only the opportunity. And now he had it. ‘We mustn’t,’ she whispered fearfully. ‘He’ll catch us.’

‘Do it.’

‘But your vows…’

‘Do it.’

She realised that if she continued arguing the bishop certainly would catch them, and the wise thing would be to get it over with as quickly as possible. So having made up her mind she grasped his cock and stroked it rapidly, and in no time it stood rigid before her eyes, pulsing like a living creature, about the length and girth of her own forearm. She took the head in her mouth and sucked, it’s size stretching her lips uncomfortably as she rubbed the shaft with both hands. Bruno groaned and pushed forward with his hips, almost choking her in the process as his cock slid deep into her throat.

‘What’s this?’ a voice screeched incredulously. ‘Lewdness of the worst kind the second my back is turned! God’s curse on you, harlot, for leading this innocent young man astray! And as for you, brother Bruno, I thought you had moral fibre enough to reject her lecherous advances.’

Bruno backed away and hastily covered himself, his head bowed in shame. Lia remained where she was, not bothering to try to explain that she hadn’t instigated anything, for she knew he wouldn’t believe her. Lothar proceeded to berate the pair of them, after which he announced their punishment: extra prayers for Bruno and a beating for Lia. He wasted no time with the latter, finding a birch tree and cutting numerous slender twigs, which he bound into three separate bundles. Lia was then made to carry them to the stream and soak them for a while, with Lothar keeping a watchful eye on her, and then they returned to their little camp.

Following the bishop’s instruction Bruno tied together several lengths of rope, which he threw over the branch of a tree. The end of the rope was tied around Lia’s wrists and she was hauled up onto tiptoe. Her cloak was removed, the bishop picked up a birch bundle and began to beat her, and very quickly she was twisting and turning in a futile attempt to escape the sharp pain, shrieking all the while. He struck her indiscriminately as she writhed on the end of the rope, at any suitable target that presented itself: her breasts, her back, her buttocks, her thighs, her belly…

After a time he discarded the tattered birch bundle and selected a fresh one, her body burning as though it were a fiery brand he was using instead of damp twigs.

‘Spread your legs,’ he commanded, ‘as wide as you can.’ With a whimper she did so, as he picked up the final birch bundle and resumed the beating, cruelly concentrating on her vulnerable inner thighs, and even her sex.

At last he stopped and lowered his arm, red in the face and breathing heavily. ‘Let that be a lesson to you, whore,’ he gasped. ‘Cut her down, Bruno, and fetch me the breast clamp. She’ll wear it tonight, tight enough for sleep to be denied her. I don’t doubt she’ll come to rue her misdeeds in the long hours between dusk and dawn.’

He was as good as his word, tightening the clamp harder than ever before; and he was quite right in his predictions; the pain did keep her awake and the night seemed interminable.

Lia was exhausted the next day, and her breasts still ached from the clamping. She trudged along behind Lothar with her eyes cast down, and it was only when she heard a stranger’s voice hailing them that she looked up and saw they had reached another village. A bent old man was standing in the street leaning on a stick and watching their approach with anxious eyes, though Lia couldn’t imagine why the sight of three dusty, road-weary travellers should cause disquiet.

‘What news from the north, good folk?’ the old man called out. ‘Will the armies of Osburg attack, do you think?’

It was only then that Lia realised they must have crossed the border, and were now in Attland. Her heart lifted a little at the knowledge she was back in her homeland, though her situation was hardly improved. She remained Lothar’s prisoner and slave, for the Church was all-powerful, recognising no overlord but God himself. No one here, not even Prince Baran himself, would challenge a bishop over the ownership of a mere serf.

‘As to that,’ Lothar told the man, ‘I cannot say, though I’ve heard folk there speak of war, certainly. You had best confess your sins while you have the chance, my son, in case the worst should befall. Is there a priest in the village?’

‘No, master; we are but thirty souls all told, including the children.’

‘Thirty, you say? I see but one. Where are the rest?’

‘They run and hide whenever strangers approach, sir. I would run too if my legs were twenty years younger, for the Osburg soldiers killed six of our men when they passed through here last, and took all our young women away with them.’

‘No one need hide from us,’ Lothar said dismissively. ‘Do you have any riding beasts here? I am in need of a horse or mule, and am willing to pay in silver coin. Even a donkey would do, if there’s naught else.’

The old man said that he had a horse and showed them to the stable. It was a sorry looking creature, which was perhaps why the soldiers hadn’t stolen it before, but the bishop bought it anyway when assured there was no other to be had for miles around. He told Bruno to lash his pack behind the saddle, but when Lia started to remove hers also he ordered her brusquely to keep it on.

‘The beast is old,’ he snapped, ‘and cannot carry everything. Besides, hard toil will help purge lustful thoughts from your mind.’

The sheer injustice of it, coming as it did after days of harsh treatment and undeserved punishments, pushed her over the edge into open rebellion. If it was indeed true that the horse could carry one pack only then it should be hers, for Bruno was ten times stronger than she was. But she knew it wasn’t true, any more than his desire to ‘purge her of lustful thoughts’. What he really wanted was to break her spirit. He wouldn’t be content until she wept and grovelled at his feet; a thing she was too stubborn to do. It was that same obstinacy that caused her to speak up now, when she knew the sensible thing was to hold her tongue. ‘That’s not fair!’ she cried. ‘Why should I be the one to carry it?’

The bishop’s face turned white with anger and he raised a fist. She was sure he would strike her, but he merely shook it in her face. ‘Insolence!’ he screeched. ‘What unmitigated gall, to question my orders! And such ingratitude, after everything I’ve done for you! It is clear to me now that I’ve been far too lenient, allowing you to travel in comfort as I have, a mistake I intend to rectify. Bruno, get the nipple clamps from her pack.’

Lia bit her lip, but it was too late to take it back now, so she forced herself to stand still as the cruel jaws of the clamps bit on her poor nipples, knowing that if she resisted he would only make her suffer the more. When it was done he mounted the horse and they set off once more, pressing on faster with Bruno striding out and the old horse trotting along beside him, so that Lia was forced to trot to keep up. The ropes of the pack cut into her shoulders and the clamps bounced on her breasts, tugging her nipples agonisingly.

But still she forced herself on, for Lothar was perfectly capable of tying her to the horse and dragging her along if he thought she was slowing them down. Hours passed in this manner, and it was late in the afternoon when she saw, through a veil of pain and exhaustion, a group of huts and a church that were strangely familiar. Then she saw the platform with its two posts and the barrel of ash wands, and realised where they were. It was Three Elms village. She was home.

‘We’ll stop here for the night,’ Lothar said as he reined in the horse outside the inn and dismounted. ‘See if you can find the landlord.’

The inn door was shut, so Bruno pounded on it. Lia looked towards her father’s hut, hoping to see him or Helma, but there was not a soul in sight. She guessed everyone was hiding, as they had at the last village. But then as Bruno continued to thump on the inn door, to no avail, she saw Father Adalard come out of the church and walk towards them.

‘Save your strength, brother,’ he called out, ‘there’s no one inside. Welcome, my lord bishop. Please, will you come to my poor abode and take refreshment?’

They followed him to his house, where he provided them with bread and soup, and plain water to drink. He apologised for the meagreness of the fare, explaining that they hadn’t recovered from the recent raids. The Osburg soldiers had eaten most of the food, he said, drunk the wine, stolen the livestock, and killed anyone who protested.

‘They didn’t get our women, fortunately,’ he said. ‘When we heard from those fleeing the town that the soldiers were coming I sent every female and child off to hide in the forest.’

His words lifted a great weight from Lia’s shoulders, for she’d been worrying about Helma’s fate ever since the invasion. Father Adalard kept glancing at her as he spoke and there was pity in his eyes, and puzzlement, and then finally she saw recognition.

‘Lia?’ he murmured, almost in disbelief. ‘Can it really be you?’

‘Hello, father,’ she said.

‘You know this person?’ Lothar asked him suspiciously.

‘Indeed I do,’ Adalard said, ‘for she was one of my flock until recently. How are you, my dear? I’ve prayed daily to our Lord to keep you from harm, and now here you are, returned to us once more, safe, if not exactly sound. You look weary beyond—’

‘You should take no pride in the fact that she was one of yours,’ the bishop snapped, interrupting him. ‘I’ve never met a female with so much wickedness in her as this one.’

‘Lia?’ Father Adalard said in astonishment. ‘Wicked?’

‘Indeed,’ Lothar said. ‘She has the soul of Eve, and desires only to lead men astray. I’m taming her though, slowly, with clamp and hard toil and birch. Show the father how you suffer for your sins, girl.’

Reluctantly Lia opened her cloak, and Father Adalard’s face turned pale as he observed the nipple clamps hanging from her breasts. He stared in horror, then looked at Lothar as though seeing him in a new light.