A Knight's Tale Pt. 01

Waves of pain and nausea flooded my head as I tried to get up and my stomach started feeling as if I'd eaten some bad oysters. It wasn't the usual wine hangover, that was sure. After lying there for another hour, I eventually prised myself up out of bed and staggered to the garde-robe and sat on the seat of ease for a good while, groaning. My head ached and I had a painful lump over my right eye that needed explanation. My recollection of the previous night was a blur. All I was sure of was I hadn't fucked anyone, let alone the Lady Elizabeth, and despite a massive morning glory hard-on, I wasn't yet in the mood to fuck anyone else. Eventually, I dressed with trembling hands and in a foul mood I crept down to the Hall, looking for Stephen. There was no sign of the ladies, but I caught an elusive hint of scent of green hills after the rain.

I found him outside the castle drawbridge, sitting by the moat with his back against the castle wall, holding his head in his hands. He stank of vomit.

"Ah. Stephen. Mon Dieu, you look terrible, green."

He groaned.

"I've been sick already."

He squinted up at me. "You look fucking dreadful yourself, Sir."

With that, my stomach heaved violently and I voided noisily into the moat.

After that, I felt better.

"All right, what happened last night?" I asked.

"I must have fallen asleep on the tower roof. I don't remember much apart from waking up in bed this morning, feeling terrible."

"Naked?"

"Naked."

"I seem to have collapsed just after you left us. I must have hit my head" as I gingerly felt the bump above my eye.

"I was naked, too". I usually sleep in a nightshirt.

"Do you think it was bad wine or something else, Sir?"

"Ummm - something else."

We were silent for a moment, pondering fate and women.

"Have we been made fools of, Stephen?" I asked.

"Yup. I think so, Sir."

"Who put you to bed?"

"I don't know. The servants - or?"

I left the question hanging and walked over to the village to inspect the troops. My head cleared as I walked, but my mood was still as sour when I arrived.

The men were cheerful, and they had most of them good reason to be, blast them. There were groups of young and not-so-young women with blonde hair and pleasant if homely features standing around them in the square when I arrived and the language barrier was no barrier at all judging by the smiling and hand-holding that was going on. Some of the men were still eating sausage and bread, donated by the villagers.

I caught sight of Sergeant Pierre hastily stuffing a piece of black pudding into his pocket when I walked over to him. He greeted me with a relaxed grin.

"Bit of all right this, Sir."

"It is?" I asked.

He looked at me strangely as he shuffled respectfully to attention.

"Why, yes, Sir. The women - the people - here have been very welcoming. I reckon a few of the lads could do worse than shack up with some of these English bints, maybe settle down here."

"Would you?"

"Well, good land this, innit, Sir? The women here need a few good men to help them. I'm billeted on the baker woman - Elfride her name is, ve-ry nice, know what I mean? She's got a few hides of land she holds - well, from you now, Sir, and a couple of oxen, but she's got no-one to help plough..."

He squinted at me, considering.

"All well up at the castle, Sir?"

I ground my teeth and snapped at him.

"Yes, perfectly thank you, Sergeant. Let's parade the men, shall we, before all discipline goes and they turn into farmers. Carry on!"

I was jealous, frankly, and it showed I think. Sergeant Pierre and his men were experiencing all the comforts of home whereas I and Stephen had none, just -what? Fine words and sleeping draughts, as I realised now we had been drugged. We must have seemed right fools. Mon Dieu, what I was going to do to get my revenge! I knew not what it was going to be, but it would be terrible. I fumed impotently.

I stomped off to the stables and took my horse out for a ride. It was time to tour my estate and think. The fresh air cleared my head and revived my spirits, but also my physical desire, so within half an hour I was as randy as a ferret again. The day grew warm and my thoughts grew warmer still. Not as warm as Lady Elizabeth's backside was going to be, I decided. Was I Lord of the Manor or was I a mouse?

After an hour's ride round the countryside, I returned to the castle.

Dismounting in the Bailey, I inquired after my squire from a dumpy, elderly female.

This turned out to be Mathilde, Lady Elizabeth's personal maidservant, also from Normande.

Ah, Monsieur Stephen had returned to his bed as being rather unwell (said with a particularly knowing smile), and the Lady Elizabeth and the young ladies were in the bower garden sewing.

Sewing, hah. I left them to it. I did not know where their bower garden was, but they could be in hell itself for all I cared.

I stumped upstairs to my chamber, suddenly lonely. A look into Stephen's room showed him snoring on the bed. I decided I needed fresh activity. Our hot Latin blood requires exercise, and we brood unless we get it. The humours get out of balance and the result is illness.

I decided to swim in the moat.

I am a strong swimmer. I state it as a fact, not to boast. I was with Duke William's invasion fleet in the summer of 1066 waiting weeks for a fair wind to England and daily swam a half league in the sea. So the moat held no terrors for me.

Stripping off my hauberk, boots and breeches on the moat bank, I dived into the inviting cool green water, as naked as the day I was born, disturbing a raft of mallard ducks who protested with loud quacking. As it was April and early spring, the water was freezing cold and the shock took my breath away. Gasping, I struck out strongly to warm my blood, through the reeds and weed to the deep water, and decided to do some laps of the castle. Besides, I wanted to look for weak spots in its defences.

I had swum over halfway round and was nearing the third corner when I turned over from breaststroke to a lazy backstroke, to take a closer look at the walls. I suddenly became aware of women's voices above my splashing in the water.

"Oh! Maman! Regardez-vous! Qu'est-on-ce-passe?Tiens!"

The bower garden it seemed was a narrow expanse of gently-sloping lawn on the far bank opposite the castle, with a fair view of the moat.

Turning in consternation to my front, I could see one of Lady Elizabeth's daughters standing on the bank not a couple of arms' lengths away, staring open-mouthed at me.

Recovering quickly from my surprise, I decided I knew exactly how I could pay them back for the mean trick they had played the night before. Maybe in looking for a weak spot in the castle's walls, I had found a weak spot in Lady Elizabeth's defences.

I stopped swimming and trod water. I raised a hand and waved.

"Bonjour, Ma'm'selle! It is a lovely day! Are you coming in? The water, she is lovely!"

I swam nearer the bank, and Mademoiselle - whichever daughter it was - retreated with a gasp and her hand to her mouth.

"Maman! À moi!" she called over her shoulder. ("Mum! To me!")

I was almost laughing as I reached the bank, and grabbing some reeds, I pulled myself up and waded out of the water.

I was stark bollock naked as we say in England, and moat water was running off me. I was covered in moat weeds and mud.

But, I pride myself on my physique, it has often been remarked upon, my broad shoulders, my wide and muscular chest, my flat stomach and strong legs... Ah yes, what lies between as well.

Truly, I have the cock to sire a noble family. I have the cock of Knight, of a man of action. I am very proud of it. The length and the thickness are impressive. The cold water had done nothing to reduce its magnificent dimensions. It is surrounded by a dense thatch of public hair, which I keep trimmed to avoid it being painfully snagged in my breeches.

Not attempting to cover myself, I strode boldly out to the lawn, where three chairs and a small table stood, where the ladies had been doing some embroidery. A glance showed the lawn was surrounded by bushes and there was no way out but on a small path that went past me.

The young mademoiselle had backed up to where her mother and sister stood in shock and as I approached all three quickly averted their scandalised eyes.

Lady Elizabeth gaped as I strode towards her and stopped a couple of paces away and bowed with a smile.

"Good afternoon, Madame. I trust I find you well?"

She had put her hands to her face, averting her gaze from my nakedness, but she peeped out between her fingers. She got a full frontal view of the crown jewels. She was blushing between her fingers.

"Oh la, Sir! For shame! Have you no clothes, or manners?"

I stopped and put my hands on my hips and jutted my groin forward.

"Mesdames, I think my attire will do as well as any other. It is called my birthday suit and one day I hope to stand before God in it."

"Yet it is mannerless to stand naked before ladies one barely knows..." Her voice trailed off. Her eyes were roving up and down now.

"Eh bien, Madame. Yet perhaps one ought not scream and shout when I take my daily swim?"

It sounded weak, I know.

"Daily?"

"Oh yes, Madame. Ten times round the castle. For at least an hour. Each day."

"You cannot parade here naked daily!" She was so shocked she dropped her hands for a few seconds and stared openly. I saw her eyes roam over me, my cock stirred...

"Of course I can. This is my Manoir, Madame. If your are offended, then perhaps you can keep to your rooms? Stephen will be joining me tomorrow. Unless you wish to join us...?"

"Join you?"

"Yes, you could learn to swim- "

"Jump in the moat with you, without clothes? Are you quite mad?"

"I'm sure the ducks would not object..."

A shocked sniff was all my response. Then:

"Sir, you should be ashamed of speaking to a lady thusly!"

"A lady? Or are you a witch to poison your liege Lord? I have the right to drown a witch!"

I swear she coloured more deeply, and replied in a small voice between her hands.

"Then Sir, it would do well not to speak too close to open casements. I am not a witch but a healer and the gift of sleep can be the most desired of all, or a defence to otherwise defenceless ladies. It was not poison."

Open casements?

My mind went back to the conversation I had had with Stephen the previous afternoon on the roof. Ah. Overheard, clearly from a room beneath the roof of the tower. She was silent.

"So, I was drugged?"

"A harmless potion that puts one to sleep and makes one feel wretched for a while."

"That is a monstrous crime!"

"So is rape."

"Whoever spoke of rape, Madame? I always take "no" for an answer."

"Truly?" She said scornfully.

"Well, it is true that I don't get to hear it so very often -"

"Oho, Monsieur flatters himself!" Her green eyes now shot sparks.

"But in your case, Madame, you can definitely count on it."

I shrugged and made to turn away.

Her daughters were now whispering to each other behind their hands and giggling. I am sure they had peeked, at least un petit peu...

"You have a lot of scars on you, Monsieur", said Madame at last.

It was true. I bear the scars of many fights, old and new. Virtually all to the front.

"And now... I had better resume my exercise. Perhaps we shall again have the pleasure of your company at dinner, Madame? Perhaps if I provide the victuals and pour the wine, this time..?"

I bowed and not waiting for a reply, turned and walked to the bank, ignoring three new gasps when they saw my tight, muscular derriere and broad back. I ran towards the moat and dived in deep.

I was sure I had given Madame something new to think about and I had restored my good humour.

****************************************************

"I still think you should just fuck her and have done, Sir. Besides, we owe the bitch one, and her daughters."

That was Stephen's comment, when he had got up and we discussed the afternoon's events.

"I swear she expects me to try! I will not give her the satisfaction of using force. I want her on her knees, begging for it."

I was by now desperate to fuck the Lady Elizabeth and in my mind's eye I could imagine taking her the easy way, by right of lordship, by force, subduing her, brooking no resistance... stripping her of her clothes slowly, watching her rainment slip down past her knees, feasting my eyes on her sweet nakedness, cupping her warm breasts in my hands, fingering her nipples, compelling her head downwards, obliging her to take my manhood in her mouth, to use her tongue on my cockhead, making her swallow, possessing her wet, tight cunt, her even tighter arse, birching her luscious backside with crimson welts and stripes; glorying in her humiliated plight as my defeated, defenceless captive, chained at the foot of my bed.

I shook my head. It would not do. I could not give her the moral ascendancy, the right to call me a rapist, to have that against me. I had to have her on her knees, willing, pleading, begging, whimpering with desire for me, or not at all.

But I had a plan...

To be continued...