The Innocent (19 page)

"Yes! I noticed my breasts because when I wore my bliaut at Michaelmas, it was tight in the chest! I can hardly eat a thing these days. Only the mint tea I brew will bring me a measure of peace. And my nipples!" Here Elf blushed. "They have, of a sudden, become very,
very
sensitive."

Orva smiled wisely. "You are with child, lady. From the dates you give me, I would say the child is due at the very end of May, or in the first week of June. Your complaint of the belly will cease shortly, but your breasts will continue to grow larger as they prepare to nourish your child. Your belly will also swell as the child grows."

"What must I do?"

"Eat simply," Orva advised. "Avoid sauces and too much salt. And, lady, do not drink wine. Better you have beer to help enrich your milk, but only if it tastes good to you. I shall come to the manor house each morning, lady, to see how you are doing. Ask me any questions you desire, and do not fear to feel foolish. Only when you are my age with five living children, and seven grandchildren, can you claim to know a great deal, and even then"-she chuckled-"you discover each day how much you have left to learn."

"You will help me when my time comes?" Elf asked nervously.

"Lady, that is my responsibility here at Ashlin, to deliver the babies, but you would not know that having been away so long. I have delivered every child born here for the past twenty years, and before me, my mother did likewise. I delivered you, my lady."

"You did?"
Elf’s gray eyes grew wide with the knowledge. It was, she realized, extremely comforting to know this fact. Orva had brought her into the world, and Orva would bring her baby into it.

"Aye, I did," Orva said. "You are much like your mother, you know, but far prettier. She had an easy time with her confinements and her births. She looked delicate, but she was strong."

"Yet she had but two children, and Dickon and I were separated by ten years," Elf noted.

"Nay, lady," Orva corrected her. "Your mother bore six children, with you, the youngest. The first was Robert, named for your father. He died of a chill within the year of his birth. Then came the lord Richard. He was followed by two wee laddies, stillbirths both, born in the years your father was at war. How his going frightened your mother. She was not a wife who could send her man off bravely. Your sister, Adela, was born two years before you were. She was just beginning to walk when she was struck down by a spring epidemic of spotting sickness. Your mother was heartbroken, but by autumn that same year she was with child again, and that child was you!"

"I never knew Mama bore all those babies," Elf said thoughtfully. And what else had she missed? "How sad she lost them."

" 'Tis the way of the world, lady," Orva said pragmatically. "She wept as we all weep when we lose a child. It happens."

"It frightens me to think I might lose my child."

"You must not be frightened, lady," Orva advised. "Your mother had bad luck, that is all. Look at me. I have birthed five, and all five are grown and healthy, praise God! You do what I tell you, lady, and you will have a strong babe come next summer."

"Shall I tell my husband, or shall I wait until I have passed my next moon cycle?"

"That is your decision, lady. Sometimes with the first a woman likes to hoard the wonderful secret to herself for a time and not share it," Orva told her.

"One thing," Elf ventured, and she blushed. "Must we cease lovemaking until after the babe is born?"

"He is a big man, the lord, and you are a dainty lady; but if he is very careful, and you are not uncomfortable, I see no reason why you cannot continue on together. Tell the lord to come to me, and I will instruct him in certain ways that are safe as your belly grows larger and more unwieldy," Orva said.

Elf arose, smiling at the older woman. "I thank you, Orva. I was frightened, but now I am not."

"You should not be, lady. Bearing a child is the most wonderful and the most natural thing in the world for a woman to do. You are a wholesome and healthy girl. You will be fine. Do not, however, and I mean no disrespect, listen to my husband’s mother. Old Ida means well, but her knowledge is not always sound."

Elf laughed. "She is very dour, filled with dire predictions, even if she doesn't utter most of them."

"How is Willa doing?" Orva asked. "She is my daughter, you know. Just a year younger than Arthur."

"Nay, I did not realize she was your daughter," Elf answered the older woman. "She is a good girl, and serves me well."

"I am glad of it, lady," Orva said, escorting her mistress outside again. "Oh, dear," she exclaimed, for about her cottage were a crowd of women, all anxiously looking toward them. "I should not have asked you inside, lady. We should have walked together in private. All these busybodies will have divined why you have come to see me. The manor will be rife with gossip by tonight, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. I think if you wish to tell your husband of his good fortune, you had best do it today. Do not be angry, lady, for these women mean well. They will rejoice with you that Ashlin is to have an heir of your body, that the line of Harold Strongbow, Rowena Strongbowsdatter, and her de Montfort lord continues through you."

Elf looked at all the anxious faces. They were kind faces, faces she knew. She began to laugh. "In June," she said, "but for sweet Mary’s sake, do not gossip until I have had the opportunity to tell my husband."

"But when will you tell him?" the miller’s wife asked boldly.

"I think it must be soon," Orva answered for Elf, "for here is the lord now, coming on the run. Someone has told him you were with me."

"Petite, are you all right?" Ranulf ran up to his wife, breathless.

"I am fine, my lord," Elf said calmly.

"But I was told you had come to see John’s wife," he said nervously.

"Who else would I come to see but the midwife when I am expecting our child," Elf replied sweetly. "And just who told you I was here? As if I don't already know!" She feigned outrage.

"You are having a baby?
You are having a baby!"
he shouted, a wide grin splitting his face. Then he picked her up in his arms. "You must put no strain upon yourself, petite."

The women about them burst out into unrestrained laughter.

"Put me down, Ranulf," Elf said, laughing herself. "I am having a baby, the most natural of female talents. I am not ill, nor am I injured. Put me down this instant!"

Reluctantly he complied. "But should you not rest, Eleanore?"

"When she is tired, my lord, absolutely," Orva said with a reassuring smile. "She may live her life as normally as if she were not with child. At least for now. And as you are here, my lord, will you come into my cottage, for I would speak with you privately."

Elf grinned, and the women about them hooted with laughter again, for their men had all received Orva’s lectures and instructions when they were first with child.

Still chuckling-and feeling infinitely better-Elf walked back to the house whistling happily. She was not barren stock. She was not like her brother’s wife. At the thought of Isleen de Warenne, a shiver ran down her spine. Elf shook it off quickly. Nothing could spoil her happiness. She was going to have a baby!

C
lud, the whoremonger, raised his hand and hit the woman a third blow. "You will do as you are told, you English bitch!" he snarled.

Isleen de Warenne struggled to her feet, and hit her attacker so hard with both fists that the lame man staggered. "I am no common whore," she screamed at him.

"Perhaps not a
common
whore," Clud said, grabbing the woman by her long blond braid, "but a whore nonetheless. I bought you fairly, and now I will have a return on my investment."

"I am the daughter of Baron Hugh de Warenne! I am the widow of the lord of Ashlin," Isleen shrieked furiously. "I was only traveling with that peddler for protection. He had no right to sell me to you!"

"But he did, and now I will have my own, plus a goodly interest back from you. You will make me a fine profit before your looks go, you nasty-tempered bitch. Now you will do as I tell you, or I shall have you tied down and offered to whoever wants you. Do you know what that means, bitch? Plowboys and wanderers passing through will labor over your fair white body without ceasing until your sheath is so wide an army could march through it. Now, get on your back, bitch. The lord Merin ap Owen and his men are here for an evening’s entertainment."

"Never!"
Isleen shouted at Clud.

He raised his hand to her once again, but a voice stopped him.

"Nay, Clud, do not beat her senseless. You will spoil our enjoyment. We like a woman with spirit. Leave us now, and we will have our pleasure of the wench." The speaker was a tall, dark-haired man with a scar that ran from the corner of his left eye down to his chin. It spoiled his otherwise flawless features.

He smiled, and Isleen shivered. This, she sensed, was a very wicked man. "I am a nobleman’s daughter," she said defiantly.

"How long do you want her?" the whoremonger asked.

Merin ap Owen handed Clud a heavy silver coin. "We will keep her for the whole night," he said, "and do not argue with me, for I will wager I have just given you double what you paid for her. You already have your profit, Clud."

"Do you mean to kill her then?" the whoremonger wondered aloud.

Merin ap Owen laughed heartily. "Only with our kindness, Clud. Only with our kindness. Now, get out, but send some wine in here."

"Yes, my lord! At once!" Clud said, and he limped out.

Merin ap Owen looked Isleen up and down in a leisurely fashion. "So you say you are a nobleman’s daughter, wench. On the wrong side of the blanket, of course. Some serf’s get, eh?"

"I am rightfully born," Isleen responded. "What serf’s bastard would have my fine features, or my beautiful golden hair?"

"Remove your chemise," Merin ap Owen said.

"No!"

His hand shot out swiftly, hooking into the neckline of the garment and rending it quickly to the hem.

"It is my only chemise," she shouted.

"If you did not wish it destroyed, you should have obeyed me," he said quietly. "You can repair it, provided you remove it now before my men and I rip it to pieces entirely."

Isleen’s blue eyes were wide with shock. Looking into his face, she knew he would do exactly as he had said, and so without further argument, she eased carefully from the chemise, setting it aside in a corner of the room. She was totally naked now, for all of her clothing except the chemise had been previously taken from her.

"She has fine big tits, my lord," one of his companions said admiringly.

"That she does," Merin ap Owen agreed, and his hand closed about Isleen’s right breast, squeezing it hard. Then he looked directly at her. "But I am being discourteous, lady. I have not introduced myself. I am Merin ap Owen, the lord of this small region. These are three of my best men. Badan, whose name means
boar.
Gwyr, whose name means
pure,
and he is purely wicked, aren't you, Gwyr? And, last, but certainly not least, as you will soon discover, Siarl, whose name means
manly.
These three have pleased me greatly, and so we have come for a night’s entertainment, which you will provide, my pretty bitch."

"My name is Isleen de Warenne," she told him in an even voice. Her blue eyes locked onto Merin ap Owen’s darker blue eyes. Her first reaction was to be terrified, but these men, she sensed, would enjoy that. She would show no fear before them. What they wanted of her was nothing unusual, and she wasn't a virgin. Four men in a single evening. She had never imagined she would do such a thing, but why not? "If you squeeze my breast much harder, Merin ap Owen, my nipple will pop off. Release it. I can already feel the bruise starting," she said coldly.

"Ah," he said, now more interested in the woman than he had been before, "you are not afraid, my pretty bitch. That is good. We will have far more fun if you are willing, than unwilling. There is too much difficulty in restraining a woman while you're having at her."

At that point a frightened-looking girl lifted the curtain of the alcove and scurried in with a full skin of wine, which she hung on a nail protruding from the wall. Then she scampered out.

"I've never had more than one man," Isleen said bluntly.

"At a time,
you mean," Merin ap Owen corrected her. She might indeed be a nobleman’s daughter, for all he knew, but she was also a born whore. Of that he was quite certain. She had the look. Lush and lewd. Releasing her breast he took the wineskin, and squirted the sour brew down his parched throat. "Who wants her first?" he asked, handing off the skin. "Can you agree, or shall you dice for her? I will have her last." He pulled Isleen into their midst. "Come on, my pretty bitch, and show my men what a good time they're going to have. Go on, laddies, she’s yours for the taking."

Caught between the three men Isleen swallowed back a moment of panic. Hands began to roam over her body. Her blond head was drawn back, and a mouth came down on hers; a tongue pushed between her lips. She felt fingers exploring her mont, pushing between her nether lips, and into her sheath. Isleen sighed with undisguised pleasure, and wiggled hard against the invading hand. If she could keep them all in check, and from being too rough with her, this could prove as diverting for her as it was going to be for them. Two hands slid about to fondle her breasts. Isleen pushed her rounded bottom back onto the groin belonging to the hands.
"Ooooooo,"
she murmured pulling away from the kisser, "that’s a nice big one. Do you want to put it in me?"

"Aye," a voice growled in her ear. "Let’s dice, boys, before I explode. The bitch is hot, and so am I!"

A pair of dice and a cup dropped on the dirt floor, and the three men fell to their knees to play. Isleen smiled, and looked directly into the eyes of Merin ap Owen. He nodded slightly, a faint smile playing about his mouth. Isleen smiled back, her little pink tongue licking her lips slowly in a deliberate provocation. He laughed.

"I win!"
came the shout, and Siarl scrambled to his feet only to be pulled back again.

"Not until we see who goes second, and then third," Badan said. "The bitch got me so hard, I'm all an ache with my lust."

The dice rattled in their cup again. The decision was finally made. Siarl would go first. Badan second, and Gwyr third. The men stood up, their hands loosening their clothing as they did. Isleen lay down upon the pallet on the floor, spreading herself wide.

"All right," she said bluntly, "let’s get to it,
manly one,
although I shall certainly be the judge of that."

"You'll not find me wanting," Siarl said, falling to his knees be-, tween her outstretched thighs, and he pulled out his manhood to show her.

"It’s a respectable cock," Isleen said in a slightly bored tone, "but 'tis how you use it, Siarl. Now, stuff me full, and make me sing!" she told him with unladylike indelicacy.

Siarl fell upon Isleen, ramming himself into her with a groan, and pumping her over, and over, and over again.

The other three men watched, Merin ap Owen impassively, Gwyr and Badan with increasing excitement, their manhoods exposed, hard, and throbbing. The lord caught the eye of his two men.

"She can take two," he said softly. "You are second, Badan, are you not? Go on."

Badan needed no further encouragement. Kneeling behind Isleen’s head, he rubbed his cock over her lips. Sloe-eyed, Isleen gazed up at him, then opening her mouth took him in and began to suck even as her hips met each downward thrust by Siarl. The two men sweated and groaned as their lusts rose, and rose, finally bursting almost simultaneously. Each man rolled away from her, panting with exhaustion as Gwyr fell upon the inviting woman. He was a small man, but he had boundless energy, and within minutes he had Isleen howling with pleasure. And when he had taken his own pleasure, Gwyr bounded up with a grin.

"Well, she is as good a mount as I ever rode, my lord. I wish you even better joy of her!"

"Give me some wine, you pigs," Isleen groaned, and they complied with her request. After all, the night was young yet, she thought, and it would be hours before the dawn. Isleen greedily swallowed the bitter brew. Then to their surprise she squirted the wine between her nether lips, put the skin snout into her sheath, and flushed out their seed. The three men watched her wide-eyed. "Well," she snapped at them, "I don't intend getting diseased, or having one of your bastards." Her gaze swung to Merin ap Owen. "Are you ready now?" she demanded boldly of him.

He nodded, unsmiling. "Bend over," he commanded, and then to his men, "Hold her down."

"What are you doing?" Isleen shrieked, struggling to conceal the terror that suddenly arose in her breast. With difficulty she turned her head to see him. He had in his hands a leather strap.

"Legs wide apart, Isleen," he commanded.

She quickly obeyed, realizing resistance in this case was futile and could bring out the coldness in him even further.
This was a man,
she thought, awed, and already half in love with him. The leather strap cracked and made contact with her buttocks. Isleen shrieked.

Merin ap Owen made a disparaging noise. "Come, now, my pretty bitch, you are stronger than that. I gave you but a love tap on your prettily rounded rump. Certainly you've been beaten before."

"Never!" she said.
"Never!"

"Not your father, or your husband, or your lovers beat you?" he asked, disbelieving. "Well, my pretty bitch, I am going to beat you. Not to punish you, or break your will, but so you may better learn to enjoy pleasure through pain." He raised his arm, and brought it down again.

Isleen grit her teeth, stifling her cry. The strap didn't hurt so much as it burned. As he delivered blow after blow to her buttocks, she began to feel as if they were afire, and then the fire was banked, leaving just a wickedly delicious warmth to her bottom, but a raging inferno of lust elsewhere. She moaned, yet the sound was not one of pain. It was one of desire.

Merin ap Owen smiled, satisfied. "Release her. On your hands and knees, Isleen," he commanded her, and as she obeyed, he slid to his own knees directly behind her, his cock at the ready. He rubbed it between her nether lips, moistening it, then he placed it against the rosy aperture between her buttocks.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Isleen squeaked as his hands tightened about her hips.

"Has no man ever gone this way, Isleen?" he demanded. "Are you a virgin in your bottom hole?"

"Yes!"
she gasped, feeling him pushing himself slowly into her body.
"Yes, damn you!"

"How perfect," Merin ap Owen said, and then he thrust himself deep into her, smiling as she screeched her outrage.
"Ahhh,
you are delicious," he complimented, drawing himself out, then driving back in once again. "Cease your caterwauling, my pretty bitch, and let your body speak to your mind. There," he complimented her as she stopped her struggles. Then he began a rhythmic motion against her, and was pleased when within moments her bottom was pushing back against his groin. "Good! Good, my pretty bitch! You are enjoying this, aren't you, Isleen? This is wicked, and this is forbidden, and you like it!"

"Yes!"
she half sobbed.

He laughed aloud, his cock flashing back and forth until his lust erupted, and he flooded her body. "You'll get no brats from me, Isleen," he said into her ear.

"You bastard!" she snarled at him angrily as he moved away from her, and she collapsed facedown upon the straw pallet. Her back channel ached with his unaccustomed invasion, but damn him, it had been exciting! Yet she was still boiling with a hunger that was going to consume her. She rolled over to glare up at him, and Badan fell upon her once again. She wrapped her legs about him, and encouraged him onward to his best efforts. He did not disappoint her.

"How fortuitous," Merin ap Owen purred as he watched the pair. "A bitch who cannot get enough cock, but the night is yet young, my friends."

Still, when the long night was over, Isleen had not been broken, nor was she apt to be, the lord of the region thought. While she slept surrounded by his three men, Merin ap Owen rearranged his clothing so that it had a semblance of order, and left the small chamber to seek Clud, the whoremonger. He found him seated outside of his house upon a bench, drinking, while he fondled a young whore who sat on his knee. Reaching into the purse that hung from his girdle, Merin ap Owen drew out two silver coins. He was not of a mind to argue or haggle with Clud. He held out the coins, and Clud’s grimy hand opened greedily.

Still retaining possession of the coins, Merin ap Owen said, "I am taking Isleen with me when I leave this morning." It was a statement of fact. He then dropped the two coins into Clud’s outstretched hand.

The whoremonger’s fingers closed swiftly about the silver. "She’s yours, lord. She would have been trouble for me. You, however, know how to tame a bitch."

"She is not tamed, nor ever likely to be," Merin ap Owen said. "That is why I want her. She’s greedy, venal, I suspect, and as dangerous as a mad dog. Yet she suits my fancy for now. Fetch a tub of hot water into her chamber, and bring her her own clothing and a new chemise. First tell my men to return to the castle, and then see to her."