This originally started out as a PWP, and quickly grew. It was going to be terrifically smutty, but turns out not so much. Still, I'd give it an "R" rating. It's soooooo difficult to write sex, and I need all the practice I can get (whoo hoo!).
This is also an exercise for me in writing in first person, present tense. If you catch me with the wrong tense, I'd love to know. I've taken some liberties with 9th century life (little things like fireplaces), so the history ain't 'xactly accurate. For those of you history buffs who insist on historic accuracy�this is why it's called FICTION.
I dedicate this to Nene Adams, the master of historical uber.
Feedback is appreciated! vanderson@violetlizard.com
My inspiration for this story was this article.Just an FYI if anyone wants to know more:
In the late 9th century the Danes had slowly but surely infiltrated the British Isles and pushed back the Anglo-Saxon inhabitants. They already held the north and east of the country. A temporary defeat at Ashdown had interrupted, but not stopped, the Danish advances. Under Guthrum, they pushed into Wessex from the south and east. They launched a winter attack on a surprised King Alfred at his court of Chippenham.
Alfred's court fled, and he was forced to take refuge in the marshes of Athelney, in Somerset. There, with a few of his supporters, he held out through the winter. When Spring came, Alfred sent out a call to his fyrd, or army, to assemble at an unknown place called Egbert's Stone. From there they marched in force to Edington, where Alfred challenged Guthrun to do battle.
Alfred chased the Danes back to Chippenham, and trapped them within his own fortress there. After 14 days of starvation the Danes sued for peace.
Alfred was a realist; he realized that he could never hope to drive the Danes out of the rest of England. The best he could hope for was to consolidate his current possessions. By the terms of the peace agreement, known as the Peace of Wedmore, Guthrun agreed to withdraw to territory already under Danish control, that is, behind the Roman Watling Street. In addition, he and his captains were baptized into Christianity.
For more information on Alfred the Great (the only English King to hold the title of "The Great") see http://www.britannia.com/history/monarchs/mon6.html
The Battle
I yawn. "Yes," I say, "I'm of a mind to do something about it."
My companion grins, "Indeed, m'lady? Wellll, it is my intention to send Guthrum back across the very waves upon which he arrived. Would that assuage your ennui?"
I purse my lips, "It might do the trick. And when do you propose said thrashing?"
He pretends to think about it. "How about�now?"
We both turn to view the field before us, and I grow serious, "My lord Alfred, I would follow you to the gates of hell to rid our island of these infidels and make you rightful King."
Clapping me on the shoulder, Alfred smiles, "I know you would, Devon. Your brother wasn't half the man you are."
The pain of the loss of my brother sweeps through me at this most contrary time, and Alfred sees the pain of it on my face. He shakes his head, "I am sorry, Devon. A poor attempt at levity. You are the most valiant of my soldiers. Would that I had 100 women like yourself." He pauses, "I miss your brother near as much as I miss my own father."
"Now is not the time for sentiment, my lord, and I regret I let it get the better of me. My brother's life is a small price to pay for the return of Wessex to its King."
"I certainly hope it is so, m'lady." He pauses, "I believe it is your turn to raise the battle cry? Get on with it then."
The man is generous beyond words. The privilege of leading our troops most often falls on Alfred himself. To transfer that task to me is to bequeath honor upon both my kin and myself. I raise a cry loud enough for the gods themselves to hear, put my heel to my horse and charge down the hill towards Gunthrum the Dane's waiting army.
The Return
That is, for me, how the Battle of Edington began. An inauspicious beginning to a long two-week siege that ended at Chippenham and the surrender of the Danes. That conversation on the hill was one of the last times in several seasons that King Alfred and I have spoken face to face. Not long after the battle a kinsman of mine whom I barely know named Henry, jealous of my ascension into Alfred's inner circle, accused me of treason. Many's the man who cannot stomach a woman who owns her own land and title, and I count Henry among these. While knowing better than to trust Henry's word, Alfred could not in good conscious keep me in Wessex for fear that Henry's plot against me may turn lethal.
I went, instead, to accompany Alfred's youngest daughter, Aelfthryth, on her marriage journey to Sussex where she would live with the Danish husband chosen for her as part of the war settlement. While there, it is my job to begin negotiations for the building of a new fleet of ships. It is Alfred's plan to create a navy large enough to protect our island from future invaders.
Now, I have spent two years in the burh of Lewes, building the first half dozen of Alfred's great naval vessels and providing the area with much needed economic sustenance. My correspondence with Alfred has been sporadic and business-like, but we both manage to end each letter with a small personal note.
I have been away from my own farm in the burh at Wilton for too, too long, and I miss terribly the fields I rode in my youth. My fondest wish, upon Alfred's return to the throne, was the return of my family lands from the Danes. Because my brother was killed in battle, the lands are now mine; however, I could not stay to enjoy them until the conflict with Henry was resolved.
A letter arrived from Alfred indicating that Henry has departed this world for the next, and all claims of treason against me have been dropped. I would not wish anyone ill will, but this news of my kinsman's death is joyous. Knowing my replacement is but a few days away, I will take the remaining time to wish everyone in my employ a hearty farewell, as well as pay funds I owe to the local innkeeper. Alfred's letter urges me to come see him and collect the reward I so "richly deserve." As for reward, I seek none but a return to my home, but I will go to Wessex as my King requests. The dispatch also says I am to return the moment my replacement arrives, and no sooner have I finished packing my few belongings, then the man does knock upon my door. I spend my final day showing him the work in progress and introducing him to the job foremen. I start for Wessex at first light.
After two days travel, I arrive at the gates of Alfred's burh, weary but certainly glad of heart to finally be so close to home. The gatekeeper does not know me, and a runner is dispatched to Alfred's court so that someone can verify my identity. I sit atop my horse, head bowed, as she snorts and shuffles her hoofs. Two days of hard riding, and we are both ready for food and shelter. A light drizzle has fallen all day, and my woolen cape is suffused with dampness. My boots are muddy, as are the withers on my horse, and my patience with the gatekeeper is rapidly wearing thin. It seems an eternity before the gate opens and there is Alfred himself standing before me, a glorious site indeed.
"Forgive my making you wait, Lady Devon. When this runner arrived to verify your good name, I myself wanted to greet you upon your return," Alfred smiles.
I hop from my horse's back, and bow low in front of him, "Your Highness, it is an honor and a pleasure to see you again."
"The honor is mine. Now, come," Alfred says as he claps me on the back, "We have planned a feast in the great hall. Before which, no doubt, you will want to wash the road from your face."
I follow Alfred through the gate, tossing the reins of my faithful mare into the hands of the closest stable boy. "Mind you care for her well, and there's gold in it for you."
The boy pipes up, "Aye, yer Ladyship. I'll wash 'er down good and make sure she gets the best o' the oats."
I pat my mare's neck and whisper good bye in her ear before turning again to Alfred. He is so glad to see me, he cannot contain his enthusiasm, and picks me up in his giant arms and spins me around. We both laugh when he puts me back down, and head toward the castle entrance.
As we enter the great hall, Alfred turns and says, "I want to hear first hand all about your progress in Sussex, but I see that you are tired, and there isn't anything that can't wait until tomorrow. Until then, your room has been prepared, and a fresh tunic made. I am happy to see country life has not made you soft, Lady Devon. I had the tunic made from memory, and I think it might even be a touch big."
I smile, "I'm happy just for something clean at this point."
Alfred laughs, "I think we can do a far sight better than that. Follow this servant to your room, and make sure she provides for your every whim."
I glance behind me to find a woman standing several feet away. Her head is bowed, and she motions for me to follow her down an adjacent passage. I bow to my liege, and follow behind the young servant toward the northern end of the castle. The hallways here are cold, and I shiver involuntarily. We do not travel far, and she stops in front of a tremendous oak door. She turns to me and opens her hand. On it is a key, which I take from her hand and use to unlock the door. The difference in temperature from the hallway to the room is startling. While not large, the room is well appointed, with a big bed, a wardrobe, and a table upon which rests a brush, a comb, a basin and a pitcher. A roaring fire is blazing in the oversized fireplace, and lit candles adorn a stand next to the door. Such decadence! A sigh escapes my lips before I can catch it, and I see the barest glimmer of a smile on the servant's face before she assumes her previous blank expression.
I raise an eyebrow at her; a look that normally sends my troops scurrying for cover. It does nothing more for this girl than cause her to cast her eyes downward. Like any good servant, she will not speak to me unless I speak to her first. I walk toward her, and stand inches in front of her, but still she keeps her eyes down, as if my muddy boots are the most fascinating thing in the world.
I turn away from her towards the fire, and say, "Come in,..er..come in, girl. And close the door behind you." She does as she is bid, closing the door softly. She enters no more than 2 feet into the room.
I warm my hands in front of the hearth. "What is your name?" I ask.
She does not look up, but responds as she curtsies, "My name is Gwen, Lady Devon."
I smile at her, "I had a childhood playmate named Gwen. She was the stableman's daughter."
"My people are from Mercia, my lady. My father was a farmer." Not really feeling much like conversation, I greet her response with silence.
Some minutes pass, and I realize with a start that I am nearly slumbering on my feet. I turn, and Gwen still stands in the same spot. "Gwen?"
She looks up suddenly, with what looks like guilt on her face, but the look is so brief, I am not sure. She looks to the floor again and says, "Yes, Lady Devon?"
"Please forgive my rudeness, and join me here and warm yourself by the fire." She is shocked, I can see, by my request, and curtsies again, "I'm sure, m'lady, 'tis not proper. I..."
"Are you not," I inquire, "supposed to do my bidding, no matter the request?"
Quite inexplicably, I can see her blush, then nod her head, "Yes, m'lady." As if facing the gallows, she walks slowly towards me and stops two feet behind me, reaching out for the scant warmth available at that distance.
I cannot fathom why she is so reluctant to join me, but I laugh out loud at her caution. What a strange girl she is. Seemingly not cowed in the least by my outburst, she again waits for me to say something.
"I am...," I hesitate, unsure what to reveal to a servant. It has been some time since one attended me. "I am unused to such attention as yours. What are your normal duties?"
"I am to help dress and undress you, bring your bath, or food or anything else you desire. And I am...I was�I recently trained in the ways of a body slave, m'lady."
I am surprised, "A slave, you say? You are not a servant?"
She shakes her head, "No, m'lady. I am a slave until such time as my father's debts to King Alfred are paid off. I have many years of servitude before I am able to return to Mercia."
I mutter bitterly under my breath, "I had thought Alfred would have no use for such a custom."
"M'lady? I am sorry, I did not hear what you said."
I turn to her, "No matter. Would you please have someone bring a bath, and fetch the tunic and boots His Majesty had made for me?"
"Certainly." For some reason I think she feels relieved at the turn of our conversation. I am puzzled as to why, but do not dwell on it. She leaves the room, and I am lost in thought until she returns but moments later. Following her are two young men, each carrying one end of a large metal tub. Behind them are several women carrying yokes with buckets on each end. I move out of the way so that the young men can deposit the tub near the hearth, and the women can begin filling it with steaming water. Gwen steps forward and tosses some herbs into the water, and can I smell the scent of lavender.
I am certain that if I were a man in this situation, I would think nothing of undressing and getting in immediately. But I am not a man, and, even though a soldier, I have always maintained my privacy. The tub quickly fills, and everyone leaves except Gwen. She is in the process of setting up a kettle in the fireplace.
When she finishes, she turns to face me. "Um, m'lady?" she asks.
"Yes?" I respond.
"Will you be bathing in your clothing?"
I laugh out loud, but Gwen looks grief stricken, "Please forgive me, m'lady. I meant no disrespect."
Still chuckling, I reply, "No, no, you have not offended me in the least. I am afraid I am too modest for my own good. Would you please turn your back until I am in the tub?"
Gwen curtsies and does as I ask. I am quick to remove my travelling clothes and sword, then slip into the water. It is the perfect temperature, and again I sigh in pleasure. Gwen stoops to retrieve my clothing, leaving the room, and returning minutes later with a dark blue woolen tunic, black cotton stockings, and a bowl filled with berries. She holds the clothes up for my inspection, "Will these do, m'lady?"
"Aye. Would you happen to know where I can find soap?"
Gwen starts, "Oh, forgive me again, m'lady. I am new . . . and am still forgetful. I have it here in my pocket."
Gwen draws out a cake of soap and a washing cloth from her apron pocket and hands them to me. "Thank you," I say as I take them and I begin scrubbing my face. The soap is decadent in its rose fragrance, the scent lovelier than anything I've come in contact with in a while.
"Is there anything I may do for you, Lady Devon? Wash your back? Or your hair?" Before I can answer, she says, "Oh! I brought these berries for you to eat until the banquet." She sets the bowl down on the table, near enough for me to reach.
"Hmm. You'll have to forgive me, Gwen. I am unused to such treatment. Soldiers rarely are. If it is not too much trouble, I would appreciate my hair and back being washed."
"Not any trouble at all, m'lady," Gwen answers.
She approaches me and takes the proffered soap and cloth from my hands. I can hear her behind me as she dips the soap in the water and rubs it between her hands. Tentative fingers touch my shoulders and begin a massage. The feeling is heavenly, so I encourage her further. With such encouragement, she grows more firm in her touch, massaging the muscles in my neck, across my shoulders and down to my mid-back, using the soap suds as lubricant. I think I may have dozed off, because I do not remember Gwen rinsing my back, and now she is asking me a question. "Hmmm?" I reply.
"Would it please m'lady? I should like to comb the tangles from your hair before I wash it. It will be less difficult to brush when I am finished."
"Certainly," I reply stifling a yawn, "anything you wish to do."
Gwen had risen to fetch a brush and again I see her blush at my words. Odd.
Her hands in my hair are gentle, and I barely feel what I'm sure would be quite painful in the hands of another. "You're good at that," I say.
"Thank you, Lady Devon," she replies. "I am nearly finished."
Gwen stops combing, and begins lathering soap in my hair, giving me a scalp message as she does. If I were a cat I'd be purring, and as it is I can only groan in appreciation.
"Too hard, m'lady?" Gwen asks.
"No, no, just right. I'd have you do that for hours if the water weren't getting cold."
"Oh!" startled Gwen jumps up to get the kettle from the fire, "One moment, Lady Devon. I should have realized."
I watch as she stands at the foot of the tub and slowly empties the kettle. She dips the kettle into the water, fills it, then returns to use it to rinse my soapy hair. "Is this to your liking?" she inquires.
"Absolutely, you've learned your body slaves skills well," I answer.
"Oh, but�" she starts to say, then stops.
"But what?" I ask
"A body slave, m'lady." she says by way of explanation. I look at her confused, not understanding.
Gwen lowers her eyes and says softly, "These...these bathing duties can be performed by any servant in the castle."
Still not understanding, I don't wish to appear obtuse, so I shrug and finish washing.
"I am ready to get out now," I say, standing up and trying not to drip on the floor.
Gwen goes to the bed where she picks up a large piece of wool. She starts to dry me with the fabric, which scratches, so I stop her hands and say, "No, no need. I can do that."
Once I'm finished, she hands me my under tunic, which I put on, then my stockings and outer tunic. Last she hands me my boots that have miraculously been cleaned and shined. "These look almost new. Thank you, Gwen."
Gwen nods by way of thanks, and says, "Would m'lady like to sit by the fire while I brush thy hair?"
I nod and sit on a stool she has placed near the hearth, feeling warm for the first time since I left Sussex. Gwen again is gentle in her efforts to tame my hair. It has grown far past my shoulders and is difficult to manage.
I sit staring into the fire. Gwen's hands are a balm, and I can feel my eyes getting heavier. I hear another groan of pleasure, and am startled that it came from me. Gwen seems not to notice, and pulls a leather thong from her pocket. Showing it to me she says, "Do you wish for me to tie it back?"
"No need. Thank you for your services, Gwen." I stand up, "Well? Do I look presentable enough for the King?"
Gwen mutters something I cannot hear, then blushes to the root of her hair. "What?" I ask.
"I said, m'lady, that you look fetching indeed. You will have many admirers at the banquet."
I laugh, and say, "There is no need to flatter me unduly. I always expect an honest answer, no matter whom I ask."
Gwen looks me fully in the face for the first time, "'Twas an honest answer Lady Devon. You are the most handsome of any I've seen in the castle."
I stammer, "Thank you for the kind complement. Well, I guess I had better join the banquet. What will you be doing while I am gone?"
Gwen curtsies, "Begging your pardon, m'lady. I have not yet had time to explain my full duties. I was told to be your shadow, as it were, during your entire stay. I am to escort you to and serve you at the banquet and make sure all of your needs are met at all times."
"My shadow, you say? Well, when will you rest?"
"I have a small room just there where I can go when you are sleeping. I will be but a breath away."
Gwen has pointed to a small door in the corner of my room that I hadn't noticed. I walk over to investigate, and have to duck to enter the room, barely missing the doorframe. The room is dark, and in one corner I can make out a pile of straw and a thick wool blanket. No other creature comforts are in the room because, like as not, they wouldn't fit. I reemerge from the room and ask, "You cannot possibly be comfortable in there?"
"Oh, yes, m'lady. It is warm and dry and allows me to always be close in case you need anything at night."
"What could I possibly need in the middle of the night?"
Gwen looks puzzled, "I was given to understand...that is, I was told that you prefer the company of women?"
"Company of...?" Suddenly, I understand what it is that Gwen has been trying to say all along. She is my body slave in every sense of the word. Should I have any physical cravings, it is she who is supposed to satisfy them.
Disbelieving, I remember words I heard Alfred say himself. We had witnessed first hand the Danish assault on the morale of Wessex subjects. Both women and men were subject to indecencies and punishment not fit for dogs. When I said as much to Alfred, he replied, "It is in man's nature to lie as a dog. Most men are no better than animals. But I would not have such as this visited upon any man or women in my kingdom. Should I reclaim my throne, I will one-day outlaw such practices.
And yet, here are such practices within his castle walls! A woman who does not know me, forced to pleasure me in any way I see fit. It is appalling. Gwen must see distaste on my face, for she says, "I did not wish to presume, m'lady, this is only what I've been told."
I look at her, "Oh, no. It's not that. King Alfred, unfortunately, is privy to such matters in my personal life, and I am inclined to seek a woman's�er�company."
"Is it me, then, that you dislike, Lady Devon? I am sure there are others..."
I hasten to reassure her, "It's not that, Gwen. You are, in fact, quite beautiful. It is only that I object to the use of slaves and servants in this manner. I would not force someone to do such a task against his or her will. In a close physical relationship, each person should come to it willingly, even excitedly."
Gwen is silent for a moment, then whispers, "But what if I am willing?"
I am surprised, but pleased, with her audacity. Looked at in this new light, she is exactly the type of woman I would pursue. Alfred does know my tastes rather too well. Not wanting to discourage her, I cup my hand under her chin, and lift her face so her eyes meet mine. "In our current state, we are master and slave, even though I would have it be different, if only for your sake. If we are ever together in a more equitable situation, and if you are still willing, we shall talk about it then, all right?"
Gwen says, "Yes." And I respond, "Good. Now, let us adjourn to the dining room I am famished."
The Gift
Gwen parts company with me at the entrance to the dining hall, and heads towards the kitchen. In the middle of the dining area a huge oak table is dwarfed by the size of the room. Judging by the chaos of people and dogs, it is no wonder the room has been built to this size. All of the seats at the table are filled with various nobles and officers, some of whom I recognize. I bow to each as I catch their eye. Alfred sits at the head of the table, and spots me as I stop to say a greeting to a fellow soldier.
"Devon!" Alfred bellows. I can see brandywine already has him in his cups. "At last, the guest of honor! Your seat is down here on my right."
I excuse myself from further conversation with the soldier and walk towards Alfred. Bowing low, I say, "Your Majesty, I am sorry to arrive so late. The warmth of the fire in my room was almost too much to leave."
A nobleman seated on Alfred's left, whom I do not recognize, says, "I'll wager it 'tweren't just the fire that kept you warm, eh, Lady Devon?"
I ignore his crude remark, which I construe to be about Gwen's body services, and am deliberately obtuse, "Oh, aye, the bath was warm too."
Alfred and the nobleman roar with laughter. Alfred claps me on the back and says, "Ignore Lord Wycombe. He has had too much brandywine to know when he's being insulting. Sit! Drink!"
I sit hard on the seat that Alfred pushes me into. In seconds, a servant has filled my goblet and Alfred is raising his. "A toast! A toast!" he yells and the room quiets only slightly. "To my great friend, Lady Devon. She serves King and Country with the fiercest loyalty. For that, I thank her and I praise her."
There are various cries of "Here! Here!" to which I bow my head in recognition. Another servant places a slice of mutton and boiled potatoes on my plate. I look up to say thank you, and discover Gwen standing next to me. Her breasts temporarily block my field of vision, and I can feel myself turn scarlet because they are exquisite. I look up at her, she curtsies, and heads back towards the kitchen.
Alfred sees the exchange and winks at me, "Quite a fetching girl, eh? I knew she would be to your liking."
I pause, uncertain whether I should confront my King. "Your Majesty?"
"Yes?" Alfred answers.
"I am�flattered at your attentions to my comfort and well being," I begin.
"You deserve all this and more, Lady Devon," he interrupts, "which is why I have decided that in addition to your existing land holdings I am adding 200 adjacent acres of both forest and cleared field, plus such people and animals to make the lands viable."
I take Alfred's hand and kiss the ring on his small finger, "Your Majesty, your generosity is overwhelming. I am forever grateful for your kindness."
The expression on his face softens, "It is the very least I can do for someone whose family has served this nation so valiantly."
I respond, "If there is anything, anything at all that I can do for you, King Alfred, you have but to snap your fingers and it shall be done."
"No, no, Lady Devon, I reserve the finger snapping solely for servants and slaves. To members of my court, I send official documents and such." Alfred picks up a small scroll beside his plate and hands it to me, "This official document, for example, details all of your new holdings. But don't read it now! Now I expect you to flatter my cook and my alemaker by eating what they have wrought!"
I laugh, my original question frozen on my lips. After such largesse, confronting him now would be an insult. I dive into the mutton and potatoes, my appetite not much assuaged by the berries I had earlier. My plate is never once empty, for Gwen appears frequently and fills it as soon as I'm half finished. I take these opportunities to surreptitiously observe her. She is quite a beautiful girl. I would guess her age at about 18 summers. She moves with speed between the table and the kitchen, but does so with grace. Her strawberry blond hair, freckled skin, and green eyes possibly belie a Gaelic heritage. By contrast, my own skin is weathered and dark, and my black hair has some premature gray so that I look older than my 27 summers.
The liberal amounts of brandywine that are spilled into my cup are starting to affect me, and the room grows warmer with each passing minute. I lean back in my chair, stomach full at last, and Gwen is there to take away what remains. I am again afforded a view of her chest as she leans over the table, and, in my tipsy state, I do not look away.
Alfred catches me watching Gwen, and nudges me with his elbow when she leaves, "I thought you would appreciate my other gift to you as well."
"My other�? Gwen? Is a gift??"
"Of course, she is part and parcel of the servants and slaves I am sending with you."
The brandywine makes me brave, "King Alfred, I am most grateful for your generosity. Please do not mistake my next words for ingratitude. I am merely confused."
"About what, Lady Devon?"
"Was it not you, Your Majesty, who proclaimed slavery an abomination? And worse, a sexual slave as abhorrent to the nature of our Kingdom? I do not understand why such a practice as this exists here in the royal castle?"
I can see that Alfred is at first angry with my words, "Were it anyone but you asking�" Then it is as if defeat has overtaken him, "Yes, Lady Devon, you speak the truth. Those were my thoughts and words only two short years ago. I have found in that time, however, that the practical considerations of an entire kingdom must outweigh the desires of the few. Even if it is the King who desires to make change."
"Yes, but my liege�," I cannot finish my thought before Alfred cuts me off.
"You have been away during my entire reign. In that time, to keep the peace, compromises have occurred for which I take full responsibility. These have served the greater good. When I spoke of men as dogs, I was not wrong. In order to keep a free woman from being thus abused, I must keep slaves to fill the sexual needs of the unmarried men. In time, I hope to implement the changes we earlier envisioned. Until a solution to this problem is found, however, I expect and count on your continued support and obedience to the crown. Is that clear, Devon?"
I am stunned into silence at Alfred's outburst, and can only mutter, "You have it always."
Alfred smiles, "Good! Now that that's settled, let us have some entertainment!"
I barely register the performers scattered about the room. The faces at the table seem like leering, grotesque masks all laughing and applauding. Being here has lost its appeal, and I sip my brandywine and wait for the evening to be over.
Alfred interrupts my musings, "Now Devon, I have a special treat for you. In addition to her many other skills�" Laughing and leers around the table, and a wink from Alfred, "�your girl, Gwen, is quite an accomplished bard. Gwen! Favor us with a story!"
Gwen, who looks very much like a rabbit caught in the sight of a crossbow, sets down the pitcher she carries and steps up on a small platform. She looks at me before she begins, and I offer what I hope is an encouraging smile. Gwen closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. When she starts speaking, her voice is surprisingly strong.
"I sing a song of giants and the true origin of Wrekin, which is a mountain of some standing in Shropshire."
A few in the room chuckle at her pun, including myself.
"The giant was called Burne because he loved fire so much. He had a nasty disposition and 'twas no wonder since he lived in Wales."
Outright laughter from the crowd now, and I am happy for Gwen. I note that her face and motions become more animated as her story progresses, and she mimes the action in the story.
"Burne had in him a great spite against a priest in Shrewsbury who had borrowed gold with which to build a great church, and had never repaid the sum."
"To show the priest a lesson, the giant had in mind to dam the River Severn, and flood both the church and the town."
"So Burne set off for Shrewsbury with a heavy sack of earth on his back. He walked for miles and miles but was not able to locate the village. He was huffing and puffing from the weight on his back, and finally stopped to rest on a road near Wellington."
"Soon there came a cobbler with a sack of old boots. He lived in Wellington, but went once a fortnight to Shrewsbury to collect boots for repair."
"The giant called out to him, 'Sir Cobbler! Can you say how far it is to Shrewsbury?'"
"And the cobbler replied, 'Shrewsbury? What do you want with Shrewsbury?'"
"'I've got a grudge against the priest and the town who owe me gold,' said the giant. 'I'm going to dam up the Severn with the earth in this sack and drown all of them!'"
"The cobbler thought to himself 'This will never do! I'll lose all my business in Shrewsbury!'"
"To the giant, the cobbler said, 'You'll not get to Shrewsbury. Not today, nor tomorrow neither. Why, look at me! I've just come from Shrewsbury and I've worn out all these boots on the road since I started.' And the cobbler showed Burne the shoes in the sack."
"'Oh!' the giant groaned, 'Then it's no use. I'm tired already and I can't carry this earth any further. I will just drop it here, and go back home.'"
"So he dropped the earth on the ground and went off home to Wales, and no one heard tell of a giant in Shropshire again. But the earth that Burne dropped spilled from the sack, on that very spot the mountain Wrekin stands today."
The room fills with generous applause, with me leading the clapping. Gwen curtsies, and I beckon her to my chair.
I rise to my feet as she approaches, and say, "That was really wonderful, Gwen. Thank you for sharing your talent."
"I am happy you liked it, Lady Devon," Gwen replies. She looks at me and our eyes meet fully for the first time. The connection I feel to her at this moment is like a rope that pulls me forward until we are standing only inches apart. From this distance, I can smell her scent, a heady combination of the lavender herbs she carried earlier for my bath, and what I think is her natural odor. It is something like apple blossoms on a warm spring day. Before I can do what I want to do, which is lean down and kiss her, I take a step back.
"If you are tired, you may return to your room. I have no further need of your services this evening."
I think Gwen is actually disappointed at my dismissal of her. She bows her head and says, "If I have done something to displease your ladyship�"
"No, not at all," I say, "I am merely fatigued and will be retiring soon."
Gwen curtsies and says, "If you need anything at all, I will be in my room."
Going back to my own room sounds wonderful. I am so exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open. But I know that Alfred will be disappointed if I leave at this early hour. I continue drinking brandywine and watch the jugglers and acrobats who comprise the remaining entertainment. In another hour's time, the guests are in a drunken stupor and are busy fondling whatever woman is available. I can only assume these are the slaves that Alfred and I disagreed about earlier. Lord Wycombe, however, forgets himself so much as to grab my ass and wink at me. My elbow in his windpipe clarifies any confusion he may have had over my role at the table. One last gulp from my goblet and I make quick excuses and leave. There are no protests because I doubt anyone, including Alfred, notices I've gone.
The Promise
The fire in my room has been stoked, most certainly Gwen's work again. I lay face down on my bed, sinking into the thick straw mattress. To my tired bones, it feels like the softest down. I hear the creak of the door behind me and can sense that Gwen has entered my room.
"Lady Devon?" she whispers.
"Hmmm?" I respond.
"Do you need my help getting ready for bed?"
I roll over onto my back, "Yes, you can help me remove my boots, if you would be so kind."
"Of course, m'lady," she replies.
Once my boots are removed, I climb under the blankets. I can see Gwen is unsure what to do next. "Will you require any additional help, Lady Devon?"
I stare at her, and in my semi-drunken state, it is tempting to avail myself of her more intimate services. I can see one side of her profile in the firelight, and her face glows with beauty. I take her hand in mine, and notice how cold her fingers are.
"Gwen, it would please me beyond measure to have you share my bed as you've been trained. But all I want tonight is another warm body next to mine. Will you join me?"
"As you wish, Lady Devon. Would you like me to get your sleeping shift?"
I respond, "No need." I raise the edge of the bedclothes and Gwen slips into the bed beside me. I pull her to me, wrap my arm around her waist, and am asleep before she finishes pulling the covers around us.
I awake the next morning to find that Gwen is no longer in bed. The room has grown cold, and I do not wish to come out from under the blankets. Instead I lie here thinking about how long it is reasonable for me to stay in Wessex before I return home.
I am lost in thought, contemplating what I shall do with my new land, when Gwen enters carrying a breakfast tray. She comes and sets it on the bed, then steps back, "Good morning, m'lady."
"Good morning, Gwen. What have we here?" I ask, as I spy bread, jam, butter and porridge.
"I thought you might like some breakfast, m'lady. If this does not meet your approval, the cook has also made beef and fish."
"This looks perfect. Will you join me?"
"Oh, no, m'lady. T'wouldn't be right. I will eat when I return your tray to the kitchen."
I frown, "Again I ask, are you not supposed to do my bidding? Come," I say, patting the bed, "There is more than enough for two here, and I want to get to know you better."
Gwen hesitates, and then sits next to me on the bed, propped against a pillow, the tray of food between us. I take a piece of bread and slather it with butter and jam, and hand it to Gwen, then do the same for myself.
"So tell me," I ask, "what's the mood of the castle this morning?"
Gwen swallows a large bit of bread before responding, "'Tis very quiet and somber. Cook has served only me and one other so far, and the sun is well above the horizon."
I laugh, "I'm not surprised. When I left last night, everyone was well past drunk and on their way to stupid."
Gwen covers her mouth and chuckles. I pull her hand away from her face, "In my company, you need never worry about laughing out loud, alright?"
Gwen nods and smiles. "See?" I say, "You have a beautiful smile. Don't hide it from me."
Gwen chews thoughtfully for a moment, then says, "Lady Devon?"
"Yes?"
"If you truly think I am beautiful, why is it that you would not have me perform the duties for which I have been trained?"
I pause, "It is as I explained. I am unwilling to use the power I may have over another to force him or her to perform certain tasks."
Gwen is silent for a moment again. "May I be frank, Lady Devon?"
"I do wish you would. And please, just call me Devon."
"Alright�Devon. I have served as slave but a short time. I have seen how the members of the court and the army treat other slaves. And yet, you are as nice as anyone I've ever met. In two short days, I have learned not to mind being your servant. I do not wish to get in trouble with others in this house. Can we make it seem as though you are happy with my services?"
"But Gwen, I am happy with your services, and I will sing your praises to anyone who listens. In fact, Alfred has made a sort of gift of you. You are to join me at my home in the burh of Wilton. You need not worry about anyone here taking issue with your work ever again."
Gwen brightens, "Truly, Lady�um, truly, Devon? I would be most pleased to go with you."
I smile, "Even better, once we have arrived at Wilton, I intend to provide you safe transport home. You will be freed upon our return."
At this, Gwen is not as happy as I thought she would be, and I ask, "Do you not wish to be free?"
A tear slides down Gwen's cheek, and I reach toward her and brush it aside. She does not allow me to pull my hand away, but instead cups it to her face, and whispers, "Devon, my home�that is, my father�he was�not kind to me. He beat me and my brothers and sisters for the smallest mistakes. While I was forced to come here, they have all fled. I would not like to return to my family."
I am unhappy that anyone has abused Gwen thusly. "Well, I would not force you to go. You may stay at my home. We shall find paid work for you. How does that sound?"
Gwen launches herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck and hugging me with the force of a bear. I laugh and say, "Cut that out. You'll spill the jam."
Gwen kisses my cheeks, "Devon, you are indeed kindness itself. I am forever in your debt. I will do everything you need me to do and more besides. I cannot thank you enough."
"It is my distinct pleasure, Gwen. You've no need to thank me. Once we finish breakfast, I meet with Alfred to go over my progress in Sussex. That is, if King Alfred is awake by then. After that, I plan to leave as early as possible tomorrow. Would you do me a tremendous favor?"
"As I said, Lady Devon, your wish is my command."
"Excellent. This is quite a large job. I need you to make everything ready for the trip to Wilton. That includes all of the new servants, cattle, whatever Alfred has given to me. Understand?"
"Absolutely, Devon. I have lived on a farm my entire life. I know how to do as you ask."
The Confidant
It is now three weeks since I left Alfred's castle to return home. I brought with me several head of cattle and sheep, some farming implements, and half dozen new servants. They are all, indeed, servants, rather than slaves because I freed everyone I was given. Only two left our company to start their own lives, but the rest remained with me. Gwen had everything ready for travel well before time to leave, and I am impressed with her abilities.
We are now working on building new shelters for the latest servants as well as the old. Gwen has an idea that building common houses will help prevent any jealousies that might spring up. My father, I'm afraid, did not treat his people well, and the hovels in which they live have barely stood while I was away at war. Now that I am master of this land, I am building houses inside and flush against the wall of the burh. Each home will have two rooms, a smaller one for sleeping, and one common one for all other activities. The common room will also have a fireplace and table with chairs. Every person on the land is involved in one way or another in building, including myself. It is near winter solstice, and I hope we will be ready with all of the houses by the time the holiday is upon us.
The main house is also undergoing some renovation. New furniture and new linens are being made, as well as repairs in the stonework. I have put Gwen in charge of the main house, and she is I think, happy for the trust I have placed in her. How could I not since all of these spectacular changes are her idea in the first place? It is also that I have no other in my life that I trust so well as her. My family is gone, and the people from the army that I counted as friends are all in other parts of the country.
I watch Gwen as she moves and works in the main house. We have little time to speak to one another outside of conferring about the housing and renovation plans. I find myself taking as many opportunities as possible to be in her presence and to touch her arm or shoulder as we talk. It sends a delightful fire down my spine and into my stomach. A torture I happily endure daily. I wonder if I have elevated her status in my household simply to make us more equal, and thus, to have greater opportunity for intimacy? Then I think no, it is not the way of things. She is good at everything she does, and that is why she has so quickly become indispensable. But I catch myself wondering if her talents extend to the bed as well.
I think she can see that I watch her, and that she likes my attentions. She often wanders into my line of sight for no apparent reason, and consults me on issues I know she could very well decide for herself. Why then does my courage fail me? Why can I not simply invite her to my chambers and see what happens there? It is because I promised her I would not take her against her will. It is for her to decide the time and place and whether we will join together or no.
The Question
The solstice celebration is here, and the hall in the main house is decorated with pine boughs and holly. Thankfully, the new houses have all finished on time, and to celebrate, I invite all of my people to the house for roast and potatoes, cakes and brandywine. There is much gayety and happiness in my home, and I am overjoyed to see it.
I turn to Gwen, who sits next to me at the table and say, "This is all your fault, you know."
"What is my fault?" she asks.
I point to the people in the room. "All this happiness and good cheer. We have you to thank for it."
Gwen smiles shyly, "There is but one in this room whom I wish to see happy."
"Oh?" I say, looking about.
Gwen laughs, a sound I have grown to love, "Lady Devon, can you not guess whom I mean? It is you, of course."
I blush and say, "It goes without saying that you have made me glad of heart. But if I need say it, then I will. Gwen, you make me happier than anyone I've ever known."
She takes my hand under the table, and squeezes my fingers. I see her eyes are teary, and ask, "I have not upset you with what I've said?"
She shakes her head, "No, I too am happy. You are the kindest, most generous mistress�"
"Do you still think of me that way?"
Gwen tilts her head, "What way?"
"As your mistress?"
"Of course, Lady Devon, how else should I think of you?"
I wave my hand dismissively, and stand to make a toast. It is clear that Gwen misses my meaning, and I need a distraction. "May I have the attention of everyone here?"
The room goes quiet, and I begin, "A toast to everyone who worked so long and hard on our new houses. I hope you find many happy hours inside your homes. I wish you and your families' good health and hearth. To the men and women of the Wilton burh!"
Cries of "Aye!" and echoes of my toast are heard round the room. I turn, and Gwen is no longer seated next to me. I scan the room, and she is naught to be found. Disappointed, I remain only for a short while longer, then excuse myself for the evening.
My own rooms are in the southern most corner, away from the north wind, and designed to catch sunlight during the day. I enter, and begin undressing, sighing as I slip off my boots. A voice behind me says, "I hope it is alright that I entered your bed chamber while you were not here."
Gwen is lying on the bed propped up on one elbow. "Of course it is," I say, "but what purpose would you have for coming here?"
"Can you not guess, Devon?"
I shake my head. Gwen sighs, "You can be the most thickheaded�."
"Hey!" I protest, but she raises a hand to stop me. "Here I am practically throwing myself at you, and you still cannot see it."
"Throwing yourself?" my heart skips a beat.
"Yes, throwing myself. If I hadn't seen the lust in your eyes when you look at me, I'd swear this was all a mistake." Gwen gets up and walks towards me, "But I have seen how you look at me, Devon. And if you had seen how I look at you, you would not question my coming here."
She stops directly in front of me, and as I truly look into her eyes, I can see the desire there. I do not know why I have not seen it before now. With a shaky breath I say, "I had hoped�that is, I waited for you to make the first move, Gwen. I put everything I could into our time together, and when you made no overtures, I was beginning to think it a lost cause."
"No overtures?" Gwen smiles, "I have touched you at every opportunity, sought you out every place inside and out of this house. How could you not know?"
My turn to smile, "It was for you to make the first move. I did not know how you truly feel."
Gwen places her arms around my neck, "I must admit, that having been rebuffed before, it has taken some courage on my part to enter your rooms uninvited. And yet, while our positions are still that of mistress and servant, my place here in the house seems to have changed?" I nod my agreement. "Then I have become someone you seek for counsel?"
"You know you are," I say.
"I would say then that if I were to offer myself to you at this time, not as a body slave, but as a potential lover, that you would not say no?"
I nod, "I would not say no."
"Then," she says, "I come to you Devon, as equal as two such as us can be, ready to share my body and my heart."
I embrace her tightly as relief courses through me. I whisper, "It is I who have been afraid to show my heart, Gwen. I�I love you." I kiss her cheek, awe struck at my audacity to declare myself thus. But it is true, and she must know it.
Gwen leans away from my embrace, and for a moment I am worried, until I see tears of joy in her eyes and she says, "I love you too, Devon."
We stare into each other's eyes, neither able to speak our happiness is so great. I brush away a single tear that has fallen down her cheek, and slowly bend my head until our lips touch. These feather light kisses between us have more fire and power in them than in all of the other kisses of my life. I am hardly able to stand, and break off the embrace reluctantly.
"Gwen? I can barely standup. Can we please sit?"
Gwen laughs lightly, and says, "I was counting on you to hold me up."
We walk across the room toward the bed, and I sit with Gwen standing between my legs. She brings her hands up to my face, and brushes my hair away. She traces my nose and lips with her finger, and I close my eyes in ecstasy. If this simple touch sends my heart into tremors, what will I feel when she's beside me in bed?
She leans down to kiss me, and removes my cloak at the same time. Our kiss deepens, and when I thrust my tongue out to lick her upper lip, I feel her tongue meet mine. Oh, the soft, slippery wonders that are her tongue and her lips together. Already my breath is coming in fast gasps. I reach around and unfasten her skirt, which falls to the floor.
I tug at the edges of Gwen's shift, and pull it over her head, tossing it on the floor with her skirt. In the firelight her shoulders and breasts glow faintly like the ocean in moonlight. I run my hands across her flesh, noting how soft and warm she is. She shivers, and I ask, "Are you cold?"
"A little," she replies, "But it is your touch that makes me quiver."
I smile, and lightly run my thumb over one erect nipple, then the other, and across the underside of her breasts. Gwen jumps, and seems surprised, but she tilts her head back and murmurs her approval. I lean forward to take a nipple into my mouth. She gasps, and her hands come up and clasp the back of my head, asking me to explore further and deeper. I suck gently, flicking my tongue across the sensitive nub, and I hear Gwen's breath come quicker.
"Oh, Devon, that feels wonderful. No wonder my instructor loved it so."
Not wanting to stop to talk about the person from whom she learned her body slave skills, I am nonetheless puzzled, "You have no knowledge of how this feels yourself?"
She replies, "Now I do, and it is heavenly."
"But I thought you had been trained�?"
"Yes, Devon, I was trained, but only in how to give pleasure, not in how to receive it."
I laugh, "Then your trainer knew nothing. Half of love making with a woman is in the giving."
It is Gwen's turn to be puzzled, "Truly, Devon? I assumed it would be me giving pleasure to only you."
"Is that how you wish it to be?" I ask.
Gwen smiles shyly, "After what you just did, I must admit, no. I wish to give and receive."
I fall back on the bed, and pull Gwen down on top of me, "Good. I would hope it is so. When we make love, I want all things to be equal."
Gwen caresses my face, and kisses me in an increasing torrent of kisses. The length of her body pressed against mine is blissful. I reach up and hold her head still and plant a searing kiss on her lips. Her tongue in my mouth is more intoxicating than brandywine, and it is lucky for me I am laying down.
Gwen breaks our kiss, "Someone is wearing too many clothes."
"You are absolutely right, and I can remedy that situation." I roll Gwen off me, and rise from the bed. While she takes the opportunity to slip under the blankets, I disrobe. As I finish, Gwen purrs, "The first time I saw you unclothed, I almost threw myself at you then and there. You are a very beautiful woman, Devon."
I look down at myself, "Even with my battle scars?"
Gwen reaches out and runs her finger along a scar on my thigh, "They only enhance my desire for you. I know behind these scars there is a battle faced and won with bravery."
"Either that or I was too dumb to get out of the way," I say ruefully.
Gwen shines with laughter, and then pulls me into bed with her, "Such self-deprecation does not become you Devon.
"It's not easy being so perfect. I thought I might tone it down a bit," I say trying not to laugh, but Gwen tickles me and we wrestle together for some minutes until I pin her to the mattress. It is not only our recent exertions that leave me breathless. I use my left hand to pin Gwen's arms above her head, and my mouth seeks what it wants again. I kiss her neck and suckle her ear lobe while she squirms under me. "Devon," she says, "I want to touch you."
"Ah, ah, not quite yet. You are mine to do with as I wish."
I see a spark of desire flare in her eyes, and feel her writhe under me in anticipation. While my lips are busy exploring every inch of Gwen's neck, ears and mouth, I lay my hand atop the mound of her breast and gently massage the flesh. I kiss my way to her nipple and spend several minutes lathering attention on first her right breast, then her left. I can smell Gwen's essence as her desire builds. She is groaning and panting as if she is near orgasm, and I slow down a bit.
"Oh, gods, Devon. I had no idea," she gasps.
"Have you never�?" my question hangs in the air.
Gwen's head comes off the bed to look at me, "I have never been touched by anyone, Devon. Once I came to Wessex, I was saved for you alone."
"My sweetest girl," I whisper. "I will be gentle. If you have any pain or discomfort, I will stop at once. Just tell me."
"I trust you, Devon. And what I feel now is definitely not pain," she smiles.
I release the hands I held above her head, and she immediately places my head back to her breast. While I continue my attentions there, I reach down with my other hand and lightly caress her thigh. Her legs immediately part and she thrusts up to meet my hand. I return to her lips and kiss her passionately, while my hand plays in her damp curls. I part her nether lips with my fingers, and delicately touch the small pearl at the tip. She says my name over and over, and I match the rhythm of my fingers to her heated whispers. It takes only moments for her to reach climax, and as she does she cries out loudly.
I slow my caresses, careful not to hurt her tender skin. She throws her arms around my neck and breaths heavy into my ear. Soon, I feel wetness on my cheek, and I raise my head to see her crying. "Oh, my love. What is it? Are you alright?"
She nods, "I am overwhelmed. I thought I had loved you 'til now, but I see I was wrong. I love you more!"
I stroke her face, "Shhh. Shhh. I love you too, sweet girl. With all my heart. You are so beautiful."
A fresh torrent of tears from Gwen, and I know not what to do. "What is it, sweetheart?"
Gwen laughs, "I am such a fool. Falling in love with the first person who calls me beautiful."
"To quote someone whom I greatly respect, 'such self-deprecation does not become you.'"
Gwen's eyes grow wide, "You�you respect me?"
"How could I not? You are honest, insightful, and smart. And very, very brave," I say.
"Brave?" she asks.
"Of course, my love. To come here to my chambers knowing that I'd said no once before. I'm not sure I would have been able to do the same."
She laughs, "You? You've faced the Danish Army. What is a farm girl compared to that?"
I grow serious, "Only the most important person in my life."
We both grow quiet, Gwen searching my eyes to see the sincerity of my words. Finding it there, she hugs me and holds me to her in a tight embrace. The feeling of us together is so perfect, so right, I do not want it to end, and I say as much to Gwen. She responds, "Yes, it is as if I have finally come to the place I was meant to be, here in your arms."
"Well then," I say, "Let me be brave one more time�" I stop not knowing how to begin. I decide the best way is the traditional way. I exit the bed and put on my sleeping shift. I pull Gwen up so that she is sitting on the edge of the bed, and wrap a blanket around her so that she will not get cold. Getting down on one knee in front of her, I take her hand in mine and say, "Gwen, in the few short months we have known each other, you have become my helpmate, my confidant, and now my lover. Will you truly become my equal in this house? Will you consent to become my wife?"
For her answer, she pulls me up to the bed to join her, and kisses me with more passion than I ever thought possible.
The End