Blood and Salt Ch. 01

Chapter I: Over A Barrel

The fight was fast and desperate; in the momentary illumination a vicious leering face shone before Huw, and his hungry axe licked out, splitting it to the chin spraying gore and brains over the doughty Celt. In the numbing blackness that followed the flash, an unseen stroke swept Huw's helmet from his head and he struck back blindly, feeling his axe sink into flesh, his victim's howl cut short along with his life.

A thunderous roar and unholy fire split the raging sky, revealing a ring of savage faces, the hedge of gleaming steel that hemmed him in. Across the deck scattered pockets of remaining resistance were overcome with savage cruelty, men gutted and slashed by the barbaric pirate scum.

Back against the mainmast Huw blocked and struck; then through the madness of the fray a great voice thundered, and in a flashing instant the Celt caught a glimpse of a giant form--a strangely familiar face. Then the world crashed into fire-shot blackness.

Awareness slowly flowed back into Huw. He was first aware of a dull throbbing in his head. For a split moment thought he was once again paying the price for a night of heavy carousing, but as he sought to raise his hands to his head he realized he was bound hand and foot. This was also not an altogether new experience.

Clearing sight showed him that he was bound with his belly over a great wooden barrel, his ankles and wrists fixed to the deck by stout hemp ropes. This was not the merchantman on which he had been travelling - a more ragged vessel, unfamiliar, with black sails. Why the raiders had spared him, he could not guess; if they knew ought of their captive, they knew him to be an outlaw, one for whom no ransom would be paid. Further, if they knew who he was, they also knew that he was a vengeful man who would balk at nothing to satisfy a grudge against any captor.

The wind had fallen, but the sea was heavy. The ship groaned and creaked in the swell, contributing to Huw's nausea. His whole body ached, but he controlled his stomach through force of will - spewing now would show weakness in front of his captors, which was intolerable.

A fat, pale moon glared down through broken clouds, lighted the tossing billows. Here and there safety lanterns lit the gloom, their flames small and pitiful against the dark night. He was cold, he realised suddenly, and shifted his weight slightly. He was near naked, his mail shirt and the padding beneath gone. He still had his boots, but nothing else save a breechclout to cover his loins. His teeth began to chatter, but again his stilled them. He wondered how long he had been bound like this.

The merchant ship on which Huw had been working his passage had been set upon with little warning. For three days and nights the captain had fled southwards, trying to outrun the pirate vessel that hounded it. Most such vessels would have given up after a day or two at most, but this one kept coming, refusing to fall behind. As time and fatigue took their toll on the crew, so the raiders ship crept closer and closer. On the evening of the fourth day, pushing on into uncharted wastes, the merchantman had scraped its bottom across an unmarked reef, and the chase was over.

The raiders were bestial savages, the merciless trash of dockside brothels and prison breaks. The cruelty that warmed their blood was not human. In the terror and roar of a gathering storm they leaped howling to the onslaught, seeming not to care that they risked their own ship in pursuing the merchantman across the reefs.

It had been a slaughter rather than a fight - Huw had been the only fighting man aboard the doomed ship, and even his limbs were heavy with fatigue - and now he remembered the strange familiarity of the face he had glimpsed just before he was struck down. Who--?

"Ho there, my bold friend, you are awake!"

Huw stared at the man who stood before him, feet braced to the lifting of the deck. He was of huge stature, a good half head taller than the dark-haired Celt who stood a little less than six feet. His legs were like columns, his arms like oak and iron. His beard was of crisp gold, matching the massive armlets he wore, and he bore a lantern which he hung carefully on a hook near the Celt, casting a wan amber light over them both. A shirt of scale-mail added to his war-like appearance as the horned helmet seemed to increase his height. But there was no wrath in the calm gray eyes which gazed tranquilly into the smouldering green eyes of the Celt.

"Aelfric, the Saxon!"

"Aye--it's been a long day since you gave me this," the giant indicated a thin white scar on his temple. "We seem fated to meet on nights of fury. Tonight it was I who struck you down, my friend."

Huw cursed.

"Nay, revile me not," said Aelfric with a pained expression. "I struck with my hand, but knowing you have a cursed hard skull, I struck with both fists. You have been senseless for hours. Lodbrog and his dogs might have slain you with the others and claimed the bounty for your corpse as easily as for your life. They know you of old, you see - but I would rather you survived. I have endured much to pay my debt to you."

"Where are we?"

"Ask me not. The storm that came up as we caught your ship has blown us far out of our course. This sip lamed. We may be riding the very rim of the world for all that I know. But where we are should not be your most pressing worry, friend."

The big Saxon looked furtively about, and then raised his voice a little, as if speaking for an audience. He withdrew a joint of greasy, dry meat from his belt, and shifted his stance a little. Behind him, Huw could make out a weasel-faced, swarthy man leaning on the stern railing overlooking the main deck. He watched carefully as Aelfric attended to Huw, and a vicious crossbow rested on the rail next to him.

"A man must eat -here -set your teeth into this joint of meat."

Huw bent his head to the great joint and tore at it ravenously. The Saxon watched him. A strange man, reflected Huw, this renegade Saxon who hunted with the wolf-pack of the North - a savage warrior in battle, but with fibres of kindliness in his makeup which set him apart from the men with whom he consorted. They had parted as friends, and battle-brothers, and the Celt felt a pang of disappointment that they had met again as enemies.

"This meat is dry," said Huw, swallowing a final mouthful. He glared at Aelfric, who stepped away for a moment and called up to the man at the stern to throw him a skin of wine. The watcher sneered, but complied. Aelfric returned. He squatted down in front of Huw's face, and dropped his voice.

"Friend Welshman, I dare not release your hands just yet. As you can see, we are watched, yet all is not as it seems, and I swear to you that I am still the friend from whom you parted three years since."

His gray eyes were full of compassion and ... perhaps ... just a little fear. He held up the wineskin, and directed a thin jet of watery red wine into Huw's open mouth. Huw swilled wine round his mouth, and spat. Then he swallowed several mouthfuls before indicating he was sated.

"Drink deep friend, it may be some time before you have anything wholesome to eat or drink. It may be also that you will wish to be drunk for what is to come."

"Tell me." Huw grunted his voice also low.

"They are below now, gambling for who will take second turn after Lodbrog has saved himself upon you. They are animals."

The big Saxon turned his head and spat onto the deck, his face creased with disgust. He nodded his head towards the wheel, where a man'sslight shape stood partly hidden in the darkness - a young man, keeping the ship steady. Huw judged him to have seen little more than twenty summers, but he had the broad shoulders and stout build of a youth used to working for a living.

"I signed to this crew when I heard they had taken the bounty, seeking to discharge my debt by aiding you. I had an idea of what kind of creatures they might be. That lad and his cousins had no such forewarning, signing while drunk and learning too late what hell spawn they had fallen in among. It is Lodbrog's practice to take on half a dozen likely lads before setting to sea for any length of time, to serve as fodder for his crew's lusts."

Huw shared the Saxon's disgust. Aelfric continued, his voice low, not meeting Huw's eyes.

"The first night out, once the city was below the horizon, they diced for the lads. One of them put up a great struggle and was beaten senseless as a warning to the others. Some of them struggled but that only served to inflame them further. They tried for me also, but I cleft the head from the first to try and lay a hand on me and convinced them I was of their same sort. I took the lad there, took him hard the first time, and kept him with me - staking my claim and proving my foul 'mettle' to their satisfaction. Since then we have looked out for each other. They know better than to touch the lad while I am nearby, and he watches for me when I must sleep."

He did not meet Huw's eyes, and looked away, his voice falling almost inaudible over the sound of the waves.

"But even I could not save him from Lodbrog's predations. Like some petty lord the self-styled 'captain' insists that his be the first cock to pierce each captive's arse."

Huw strained against his bonds.

"Cut me loose, Aelfric, and we'll teach these curs what real men are!"

Aelfric shook his head.

"I dare not, Huw. They will kill us both and then the lad - I have sworn to protect him until we reach shore safely. I will not be forsworn for you, old friend, nor break one vow to uphold another. They keep a close watch on me - see the vermin on the stern deck? I think Lodbrog senses my heart is not in this venture."

The Saxon leant slightly to one side.

"Over my shoulder there ... the watchman at the stern. If he cries out, we'll have the whole ship in arms against us and we will surely lose, especially with you naked and unarmed. They take it in shifts, waiting for me to let down my guard. They are slovely pigs, and I would not waste a cup of piss on one were he dying of thirst. Yet fear of Lodbrog does the job of giving them a hint of discipline in their vigilance."

. The Celt twisted his head around and about casting for any advantage - and spied a dark shape near the horizon.

"Beach the ship then," he whispered quickly and earnestly, "and let us take out chances with the waves. You say these uncharted waters are rich with reefs and rocks? I'd rather risk drowning than serve as a plaything to animals until they hand me to my enemies! I want to fight while I still have strength to make an accounting of myself, not die bent and broken for the amusement of some petty prince or dog-fuck lordling! Do this and I will give you my oath that I will join my word to yours and see the lad at least to safety on pain of my life."

Aelfric stared into the smaller man's eyes for a moment, measuring his commitment. Then he nodded abruptly.

"You are a madman, Celt. You'll kill us both - all three of us - but damned if I will stand by and watch you used the way Lodbrog uses his prisoners. Be ready."

The broad Saxon leant forward then, carefully drawing a knife, and making sure he was unobserved partially sawed through the stout fibres holding Huw's wrists. He reversed the short blade then, sheathing it, and sliding blade and sheath under Huw's body where it was pressed close against the barrel, concealing it.

Then he leant back, a feigned expression of disgust on his face, and raised his voice again.

"Filthy dog, you'll eat those words when Lodbrog gets here! I look forward to my own turn to mount you, but I doubt there'll be much fight in you by then!"

He struck Huw then, a light blow but to an onlooker it would appear he had placed a much more savage strike. As he turned away, he whispered one last time.

"You'll know my signal when you see it, and then let Lodbrog and his dogs beware."

Aelfric returned to the wheel, making a show of cuffing the lad who held it steady. The weasel-faced watcher kept an eye on Huw, and behind him he could see a quiet exchange taking place between the Saxon and his lad. At first the smaller man shook his head then finally he nodded slowly. The watcher at the rail turned and queried what was going on, and Aelfric replied loudly with the details of some vileness he planned to visit on the youth once his shift at the wheel was over, which set the rat-faced sailor guffawing and suggesting additional horrors. The lad, his face pale, said nothing.

Huw was left then to his own thoughts, considering what was to come and how best to prepare for it. He felt only disgust for men who could not get their pleasure save by forcing it, corrupting the Goddess' great gift to Her children into a thing of violence and blood.

After a time, Huw the sailor felt the vessel adjust its course beneath his feet. Aelfric was a master steersman, and Huw doubted anyone else aboard realised he had subtly adjusted their course. At almost the same moment, there was a sound of many men moving at once and raucous laughter, clomping feet, and a banging door. Huw's captors had come from their merry game of bartering him off like a whore to claim their prize.

They surrounded him then, a jeering mob of perhaps two dozen men, swigging from clay bottles and wine skins, clapping each other on the back and celebrating in anticipation of the entertainment they were about to receive.

'Captain' Lodbrog was the worst of them, a squat brute of a man, nearly as wide as he was tall, with a hanging paunch and vicious stubbled jowls. Yet to call him fat would have been to underestimate him - he was no pampered lord, but a vicious fighting man whose bulk gave him an advantage over slighter foes. One eyed, with lank and filthy blond hair tied back from a scarred face, he swaggered like a bravo despite his bulk. He sported a great bruise on the side of his head, no doubt received during the recent battle. He stank of old sweat, cheap grog and stale seed, and his breath gusted through blackened teeth with the aroma of rotten meat. He swayed slightly, clearly already drunk, as he taunted Huw.

"Well! Look how the mighty Huw is humbled lads! Bound up like the cheapest doxy, aching for the touch of a real man!"

Drunken laughter went up from the men surrounding the Celt. They leered and jeered, cheered their captain on with vile suggestions.

Lodbrog grabbed Huw's face and lifted it up to stare at him. He hawked a great gobbet of snot into the captive's face, and laughed again. Behind Lodbrog's head, he could see the stern watch gazing with greedy eyes at what was happening on the main deck.

"We'll make such sport of you, Celt!" He roared. Huw could smell the arousal on the man. In other circumstances he might have strained at his bonds, but he did not dare reveal how weak they were before the appointed moment.

Lodbrog seemed disappointed at the lack of reaction.

"Grog!" he yelled. One of his mates passed him an earthenware jug, and he gulped down several mouthfuls, spilling more down his chin onto his open shirt, his chest and quivering belly both covered in a thick black rug. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and glared down at his captive.

"Does the mighty Huw want some grog to wet his whistle before we make a start? I'd hate for you to be thirsty, for there'll be no more grog for you once we begin!"

Lodbrog grinned evilly through broken teeth. The men whooped and hollered and laughed.

"All I want from you, you diseased whore's cunt, is your throat under my blade and your blood on my fists and to watch you mewl out your life before me." Huw spoke with quiet intensity, and the big pirate blanched a little before alcohol and the bravado common to weak men with many cronies stiffened his resolve.

"You'll take what I offer you, Celt, aye and beg me for more before I'm done!" shrieked Lodbrog. He grabbed Huw's hair again with one hand, lifting his face up while fumbling in his breeches for his manhood. The meaty sausage was already thickened, half swollen with beer and corrupt lust. The stink of it near him caused Huw to retch. Holding it firmly in one fist, the captain grunted a moment then let loose a stream of hot piss into Huw's face.

"Here's your grog mate! Who's the whorish cunt now? Hey?" The other pirates went wild, hooting and howling at the man who had killed a fair six of their mates in the attack on the merchantman so humbled.

Huw kept his mouth clenched shut, the hot stream stinging his eyes, drenching his face, the rankness of it filling his nostrils until he felt sure he would puke. He sensed rather than saw Lodbrog lean in closer to direct the stream, playing it across his face and hair ... and Huw lunged forward, snapping his teeth closed where he hoped the pirate's cockhead lay. All he got for his trouble was a gobfull of salt piss and his head slammed against the barrel hard enough that he nearly bit through his tongue.

Lodbrog's fist smashed into his nose, and he tasted blood in his mouth and throat. For a moment he was sure he would pass out, but the moment passed. The food and drink Aelfric had given him rebelled in his stomach, his mouth flooding with bile which he swallowed back down again. The taste of the spew was at least preferable to the vileness of Lodbrog's urine.

"Snapping dog!" shouted the pirate. "We'll see how well you snap when my men have torn your teeth out to make a fuckhole of your face!"

The captain seemed to consider for a moment, leaning in as if to confide in his captive.

"We'll be paid a princely sum as long as you are alive to face the Prince's torturers, but the bounty says nothing about what state your body must be in. We'll leave you your manhood for the prince to take, but nothing else - nothing else will be denied to us. Do you understand what the next three weeks will be for you? I see you are still arrogant enough to think we will not break you, but before we see land you will beg me to spend my seed in you, and sob like a woman when I refuse."

Lodbrog leant back then, turning to his crew, his stiffened piss-proud prick jutting from his breeks.

"He's a snapping dog, this one is lads ... but a dog only has fangs in his mouth. I can think of a berth a lot more welcoming, where I'll slide to dock as smooth as silk. What say you lads? Shall I make sail for the port of Huw the mighty and take a little shore leave?"

The baying crowd egged their captain on as he moved out of Huw's line of sight. The Celt looked to the stern again, and saw Aelfric turning the wheel again, slowly, and carefully. The weasel-faced watchman paid no attention to anything but the drama unfolding below, his stubby cock now in his hand as he craned over the railings for a better look. Huw saw Alefrik's lad join him at the rail, and engage the pirate in quiet conversation.

A moment later Lodbrog's rough hands were on his breechclout, flipping it up across his lower back.

"Hold his legs, mates!" cried the pirate king, pausing to run his calloused hands greedily over Huw's legs and arse, nipping and teasing at the downy hair. The ropes on his ankles went taut, pulling them apart and pushing more of his weight onto the barrel, rough against his chest and belly. Huw gritted his teeth, refusing to crane to see what was happening behind him, to give Lodbrog that satisfaction. He could hear the captain working mucus and saliva in his mouth, heard the sound of spitting, and knew the beast was slowly lubricating his cock with his own snot and spittle.

Huw let out a sharp breath through his teeth when a rough digit forced its way into his passage, rudely pressing past his opening and through his tight ring. He felt it twisting around inside him, getting a feel for his girth and trying to open him up. He kept his muscles clenched.