Amity's Vow

Every few minutes, another guard entered the chamber, sometimes bloodied by the rocks and stones launched over the castle walls, and in one case, limping from the wound of an arrow that had ascended the castle walls. And with each report, the news was worse and the Baron's advice to his men more hysterical and progressively less practical.

At last, the outer walls were breached and the news was of true savagery. Babies had been snatched from their pleading mother's arms and impaled by sword and pike. Women were raped by one or more assailants, irrespective of their youth or maturity, before they too were killed in ways that sometimes matched the perversity of their blood-soaked lust. No man was spared, but was treated more summarily and often with unnecessary cruelty. Only livestock was reprieved the slaughter met upon Christian folk, perhaps only to later provide benison for the Duke's table.

Throughout the siege, the Baron's banqueting hall was also besieged, not by the Duke's warriors but by an increasingly desperate mass of peasantry clamouring to share the protection of those knights still defending their mostly incoherent and now totally drunk Baron. He had by his side his wife, poor Alinor, who was treated with almost as little respect as his wenches, her bosom exposed from beneath her ripped gown and serving as a suckling toy for the hysterical Baron.

Never before had Amity felt pity for the Baron's wife who was normally spared the indignities reserved for his wenches and for whom conjugal duties were provided rarely and in privacy.

The anxious peasants were denied the sanctuary of the knights' protection, which was at the moment most dedicated to denying them this privilege, while Amity held tight to Edwina's naked body, relishing again the flesh that had been her closest companion on those many nights where Amity experienced the only love she had ever known. A love far more passionate and true than Amity had ever known from the brutish Norman knights who held all Saxon wenches in the lowest contempt. They were accustomed to being treated lower than the horses, hounds and falcons to which the knights expressed greater affection than those they fucked almost every night.

At first, the only report of the approach of the Duke's soldiers was that provided by the messengers, but soon these were supplemented by the resounding thumps against the walls of the inner keep as unknown but undeniably large objects thudded on its frame. A chunk of wall burst open, letting in more light than normally penetrated the arrow slit holes that lined the walls and normally provided the only evidence of daylight that Amity had known since her first day of servitude to the Baron. Crumbling masonry and stone fell onto the Baron's table, scattering the wooden platters and toppling a flagon of mead onto the floor where it shattered into shards.

Along with the constant thump of projectiles came the echo of the agonised screams of the women pressed against the doors of the banqueting hall, no longer opened even to the pleads of messengers or guards, as the Duke's soldiers one by one reduced their cries to whimpers and finally silence.

The banqueting hall's doors were finally breached despite the best efforts of the Baron's knights holding them close with the weight of the banqueting hall's oaken tables. The knights were thrown asunder along with the makeshift defences they had erected. The head of a wooden battering ram emerged, pushing the knights to the floor where they nursed their bruises, while Amity could glimpse at last the enemy that had distantly caused her so much fear.

There was no more shit left in her to add to the pile at her bare feet, nor urine to splatter on her already foul-smelling thighs. From her other cowering companions, ignored for so long, there came a wailing of cries of mercy as some at least relieved themselves of what little their fright had not already loosened onto themselves and the stone floor.

Little time was wasted in dispatching the Baron whose head rolled onto the floor and whose body was slashed to pieces by the invading warriors' swords. No mercy was shown either to the knights whose defence of their liege was soon forgotten in the much more urgent task of defending themselves. Dead bodies were scattered around the floor, blood seeping onto the stone floor and trickling past Amity's shivering feet. The authors of this onslaught stood in the room, proud and victorious after their bloody assault wondering what little was left on which to sate their bloodlust.

And so soon after the door was breached, Amity, no more than her fellows, nor Edwina who had mercifully fainted from despair and dread, barely comprehended the extent of the horrors meted on the Baron's wenches when they too became the object of the knights' attention.

To Amity, these knights were no better than those who had raped her so many times before and with so little mercy while in the service of the now deceased Baron. They were nothing more than further manifestations of the overbearing invader of her native land who for more than a century treated the natives of Albion with less respect than the fields they tilled or the oxen that pulled their till. And her sympathy for poor Alinor, the first woman to be raped, was lessened dramatically by her fears that she would also not long survive after one of these knights should choose to thrust between her oft parted thighs.

The rape she suffered was even more violent than that she'd become accustomed to, as, one by one and severally, the Duke's knights fucked both her and her fellows. Her groin felt like it was bleeding as surely her body would soon from the thrusts of blades rather than engorged penises, seemingly not lessened at all by affects of the mead and wine the knights treated themselves from the Baron's table.

And then, a miracle occurred.

Surely, the very miracle for which Amity had prayed at the feet of Lord Jesus Christ when she had last begged for mercy in the chapel.

The beams which supported the ceiling to the banqueting hall had been weakened by the onslaught of the siege engines and gave way, bringing with them, not only timber but the weight of the masonry they supported. And in that collapse, which she was only later to evaluate, it brought low all the knights who attacked her. And also all her companions.

And so it did too the knight who was at that moment engaged in violating her much-despoiled vagina, killed almost instantly by a rock that smashed open his skull but left his erect penis inside her. The first Amity was aware of was the blood that splattered her face and then the collapsed body of the now dead knight who had shown her such little respect.

It was only many hours later, too frightened and too abused to stir, that Amity at last pulled herself free from the knight's corpse. Her body shivered uncontrollably. All around her was the stench of death, shit and urine. Blood covered her entire body and she was not at first sure how much was hers and how much was of the dead knight or of the other corpses around her. But God's mercy was great. The only blood she had shed was that inside her vagina and arse from the assault she had suffered, and this was not the first time she had experienced the bloodletting of too eager fucking, so she was soon able to differentiate it from any more lethal wounds.

And when she emerged, she knew that of higher priority than tending for her wounds or concern for others who like her might have been spared by God's mercy the fate of most of the Baron's subjects, was the duty to give thanks to the Lord that she had escaped death.

He had bestowed upon her a miracle. He had intervened to save her life and Amity had a vow which she had made and one which she now had the duty to observe.