Caballero del Norte

"Oooooooh! Mmmmmmmmmm!" she moaned, clutching him in her arms. The continued encouragement drove him harder, was driving him out of control. He was pounding his cock into her hot, slippery pussy at an ever faster tempo. "That's the way! That's it!" She writhed excitedly beneath him. Her pussy was contracting tighter around his prickshaft. He thrust fiercely at her, his entire body intent. He could feel the coming release churning inside of him.

The Mediterranean beauty's face was distorted with passion as she whipped her ringlets all over the silks on which she rested. "Oh, sweet, sweet, so sweet..." she panted, her body starting to climax. She squealed as the waves of pleasure hit her, fingers digging into his back, legs pulling him to her. Vistruario responded wildly, prickles of delight streaking up and down the length of his tingling prick as he drilled it deeper and faster into the clinging hotness of her sucking cunt.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!" the Leonese roared as his boiling seed suddenly exploded from his cockhead. His climax was among the most forceful he'd ever experienced.

"Oh, yes, sidi!" she responded hysterically. "Cream me good, you big-cocked darling! Fill my hot little hole with it!" His hard prick was drenched in his own bubbling cum as his spurting cock thoroughly coated the warm, velvety walls of her pussy. He continued driving his prickmeat into her until his seemingly incessant spurts finally stopped. He partially collapsed on her, then rolled to the side, laying beside her panting. She rolled to her side, throwing a leg over his.

"Oh, master," she whispered a little later, as they slowly recovered from their exhausting climaxes. "You sure and truly know how to use a woman."

He chuckled deep in his broad chest. "Is good you think is so. I am no done with you yet..."

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"Has word arrived?"

"Yes, Lord Cienfuegos. The messenger arrived just a bit ago. He will be given due courtesy, then brought in as soon as he is ready." With an inclination of his head in respect, the chamberlain set about the task.

Iago shifted his weight in the large seat set on the dais of the great hall. He thought, for the thousandth time, that the smell of smoke would never go away. He glanced over at Vistruario. He shrugged in return, unsure what the messenger would say. Neither was Iago himself.

Finally, he appeared, and after perfunctory obeisance, delivered the sealed message. Iago examined the wax seal, then cracked it open. He read the document himself once, pondered for a moment. Then he began to read it to the people present. "His royal highness sends his regards for my management of these, his new lands to the south. He instructs I endeavor to increase their bounty and ensure their defense." Iago looked up, eyes scanning everyone present in the room, before looking back down to the document and continuing. "He regrets that with upcoming preparations for further campaigns and the collection of parias from eastern taifas, that he cannot reinforce, nor inquire to his other commanders to send their levies."

Iago heard Vistruario grunt, saw his other knights give each other sidelong glances, the mayor scowl, the Muslim courtiers adopt the blank faces that covered a desire to grin. This put things on a delicate balance. He had little infantry, barely enough cavalry. His enemy had been defeated thoroughly enough that he hadn't worried over counter-attack; with the stronghold and its surrounding town, he knew he could hold long enough for the king to reinforce the position. Except, the king wasn't going to now. The locals were not, yet, rebellious, but were still being obstructive. He could begin the organization of a town militia to generate infantry, but he desperately needed more cavalry, preferably knights. Most of the cavalry he had were lighter jinetes, and while excellent for patrol and raid he wanted more punch to back them up. But, of course, more cavalry would require more funds. So what he truly needed were some of the wealthy courtiers on his side, so that he could tap their wealth without generating outright rebellion. Except that bringing in cavalry is the last thing that would put the locals on his side. So.

"SCRIBE."

"Yes, lord." The man stepped forward, at the ready.

"Make note. We wish to fund the building of a new church here, to honor God for his help in our victory. Send word to the closest dioceses, and to León and Santiago. We will need priests." Out of the corner of his eye he saw his chaplain start in surprise, then nod vigorously. Good; his signature on the document would help. It would have been better if he had talked to the man beforehand and had him bring forth the idea, but too late for that now. "Let it be included in these requests that the priests should have escort here, by whatever men of strong arms and Godly spirits wish to be here for the raising of a new house for the Lord. We are, after all, a border realm."

Knights once again traded glances, more hopeful this time. The mayor didn't know whether to be hopeful or not, but had at least been given pause. The courtiers remained blank of face, their thoughts now harder to gauge. This would at least throw them off balance, especially since they had half feared Iago would decree the largest local mosque converted to a Christian church.

And their being off-balance made it the perfect opportunity to play the gambit for bringing at least some of them over to his support. Time to capture the queen.

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"I know these aren't the accommodations you were used to, lady, but I assure you they are the best that can be provided." He tried to keep from staring; it was difficult. She was fully accoutered and cosmeticized, though she needed little of either. Currently she was sitting in a highly decorated chair which must have miraculously survived the fire. She was the very image of a Muslim princess.

"I expect most of your prisoners do not receive even this much, so I thank Allah you northern louts managed this." For her part, it took much of her self-control to stay still when he turned that intent scrutiny she had had such trouble getting out of her head on her again. Then he laughed and she started in surprised

. "Well, we all work within our limitations, I suppose. But you are not a prisoner. If you truly wish, we will set you outside the walls with an animal to ride south to the remaining taifas, and from there wherever else you will."

She goggled at that, struck silent for a moment, and he chuckled.

"Oh come now, northern louts we may be but we are not completely uncivilized. You are as a princess among your people, and we pride ourselves on our treatment of high-born ladies. I only regret we do not possess the spare manpower to escort you, alas."

She visibly recovered herself. How dare this infidel speak to her thus? And then it struck her that he was leading her somewhere. Her eyes narrowed. "Such an escort would be the least of courtesy, if you truly believed in such."

"Unfortunately, we as always remain bound by our limitations. You could see if one of your own lords would be willing to do you the courtesy." Unthinkable. A woman sent off to where she wanted? "Or perhaps you could strike some other sort of bargain. As a widow, you have options."

That made her frown. A part of her sensed this was part of where the northerner...Iago, she suddenly recalled...had been going. Her options. But essentially they boiled down to a secondary wife of a noble made just as secondary by the fact that the Christians had come south to conquer. Zuleika had never thought of herself as grasping, but she realized part of how she had salved herself for being shackled to a fat frontier prince was that she was the primary wife of such, the lady of his domain. A loss in status would chafe.

"Yes," she finally said. "I suppose that I do."

"Of course, the tides of time have changed. Unthinkable things might now be possible, even inevitable."

She looked at him sidelong, her eyes still narrowed. "An uncivilized northerner speaking riddles. Next a donkey will recite me poetry."

He came to attention and extended one arm in front of him.

"When the Lion at his pleasure comes

To the watering place to drink, ah see!

See the lesser beasts of Al-Andalus

scatter, like blown leaves in autumn,

Like air-borne seedlings in the spring,

Like grey clouds that part to let the first star

Of God shine down upon the earth."

He laughed at her expression. "More than once have I been termed an ass. Such a thing is hardly enough for me to deny a princess her request."

"I'm not, as you well know."

"Not what?"

"A princess. Anymore, anyway."

"You would be by our standards."

She huffed. "Infidel standards. And what are those worth?"

"They might be worth a lot, to you. To your future, and your options."

An odd sensation prickled at her skin, tingled up the back of her neck. Here it was. Whatever this Iago had been leading her towards. She could sense the momentousness bearing down on them like a coming sandstorm. "Another riddle? And...what does that mean?"

"It means you have the option to remain the lady of this place, this town and its stronghold. To continue to be treated the princess you, by my standards, are."

"What are you talking about?"

Iago smiled. "I am the lord of this place now. I mean to hold it. Marrying a princess of Al-Andalus...it would help, in many ways. Help me, help the people. Those born for privilege have duties to go with those privileges. And as for you, you would keep your status, your place. You would not be a secondary wife of a minor courtier, you would be the one and only wife of the lord of the stronghold. Your children would inherit this place, its land, its authority. That is no mean thing." There, he had said it. The thing he had come to say. He felt the relief of having finally let it out.

She looked at him as if he had grown a second head. Then she took note of his face, and realized how serious he really was. Then she looked at him as if he had grown a third head.

"But...but you're..." she began, sputtering. "Are you insane?!" Instant regret, the very second she said it. Something in his face fell, pulled back, stiffened. A haze fell over those eyes of his, those intent eyes. 'No no no why did I say that,' she thought to herself. 'That wasn't what I meant to say!' The eyes that had looked at her, not just at a woman, not at just a woman, but at her, as a person, with respect that he clearly really did have for her and he meant it when her treated her a princess and she realized she had never had any man look at her that way that was why she hadn't recognized it and she didn't know what it all meant but why oh why had she said that!

He, of course, heard none of that, saw none of that. Could only see the shock and confusion, and wonder if that was what revulsion looked like. He set his face, willed himself into the disciplined externals of a lord at court, a commander on the field, steeling himself and walling away the roil of emotions inside he didn't understand and didn't dare now explore.

"I might be. But it would hardly be the first such marriage, the first such alliance. There is plenty of precedence. And there is no need for you to make a rash decision. Mull it over at your leisure." The words were said peremptorily, a stark contrast to the previous jovial tone and the improvised poem. "Send me a messenger with your final decision." He bowed his head and turned on his heel. 'Too sudden, too eager,' he thought to himself. 'Approached it like a besotted boy and ruined...'

"WAIT!"

He turned back. She had shot to her feet, bare as usual, he noted, lovely and pale. Her dusky complexion looked red. "I'm sorry, highness. There is something else I can help you with?"

Her eyes were wide, almost desperate. He was gazing at her still from behind his wall. It wasn't what she wanted. Now that it wasn't there, she knew she wanted that look back in his eyes. She didn't know what that meant, was confused by it all, but she knew she wanted it. And she needed to know more. "You want to marry this place, its people, through me?"

A bit of the look began to creep back into his eyes. "I do."

"And you want heirs."

"All men do. I am no different."

Not quite what she was looking for. "Heirs from me, or simply heirs?"

"Ah." He looked down at the ground, seeming to study the tiles for a moment, before looking back. "Just as marrying you would marry me to this place and its people, heirs of you would tie my line to this place."

"And that's why you want me. Why you want a lady of Al-Andalus."

"No, and yes."

"Another riddle. And what does that one mean?"

"Yes, that is why I want a lady of Al-Andalus. The responsibilities of my position, the duty to my king in this place. It is not why I want you."

The direct, intent, appraising look was back in his eyes, and she noticed it instantly. She could not, however, see her own eyes light up in response, the shades of emotion which crossed her face as he spoke. But he did.

It took her a moment to come to herself. "Oh...so then, why is it me that you want?"

Iago pursed his lips, considering how to answer. "Might I have your permission to speak, ah, familiarly?" She gave him another askance look, but nodded. He smiled.

"That. That exactly. You are thinking, considering. You are clever, and cunning. You evaluate what is before you rather than take things at their surface." His smile widened, and he shook his head. "And you are fierce. Never have I seen such a deadly attack with an instrument of music." They both laughed.

"If Vistruario had not had a sturdy helm and sturdier skull you might have done for him. I've never seen the like. A leopardess, he called you. Do you know aught of housecats, lions, and leopards, princess?"

Her curiosity was now written all over her face. "I don't know what you mean."

"Well, housecats, as most know, male or female will wander from mate to mate, not pairing up at all." She nodded.

"Lions, well, male lions will lead the pride, having his choice of the females. Chase off other males, fight to keep his place of course. But should his watch falter, other males will do their best to slip in time with his females, and should his strength falter, the females will go to the new male that toppled the old." Now she frowned, brow furrowed, thinking through his words, the possible metaphors, and trying to suppress surprise that a man, let alone a northerner, seemed to be speaking of philosophy with her.

"And then there are leopards. Leopards pair up. Male and female, they join together and stay with each other for life, come what may. And more, when one of the pair dies, the other will thereafter stay alone unto their death, never taking another to replace their one true match." He locked eyes with her, the rest of the world fading into insignificance, into this one pure moment between them. "Only a fool, or a tomcat himself, would choose the housecat. A man who thinks much of himself might seek to be the lion, to forever expend his energies thereby and yet be toppled at the last."

Suddenly, Iago moved to Zuleika, going to one knee before her, taking her hand lightly in his. She was paralyzed in surprise, eyes wide, her mouth a perfect 'o'. "Perhaps there are times I think much of myself as well. But as for the rest, I would have the leopardess, and the match that even death does not sunder."

Her heart pounded, and she felt as if she couldn't catch a full breath. It was ridiculous, absurd, but why couldn't she pull her eyes away from his? He still held her hand in his. Why hadn't she pulled that away? Shouldn't she pull it away? Had he used some sort of enchantment upon her? She was familiar with such, her father's lands had held enchanters and astrologers both aplenty, along with poets and philosophers. Her father! What would he say? But even as she asked herself she knew it didn't matter, nothing did. Nothing but this.

"Yes," she said, though it felt as if she were outside herself, incredulously watching and hearing herself say it. "Yes, I will marry you." Scandalous! "I will be your lady, your wife." Outlandish! But no less true for that.

He kissed her hand, "Negocio feito," he said in what must have been his language, though she did not understand the words. There was a pause then, a silent moment as if the universe was aligning around the new reality they had made.

A jolt of...something, something she had never felt before, shot through her. She pulled her hand from his, and he stood. Was it fear? Yes, but more, much more. This was nothing like her first betrothal. That had been, at first, blind hope mixed with disappointment at the distant, border-march location of her husband-to-be. Then more disappointment, and perhaps a touch of dread, once she had arrived and seen the corpulent prince in person during the ceremony. And that had finally all given way to resignation at her lot, and the finding of what consolation as there had been. This, on the other hand, was nothing for which she had any precedent in her own life, regardless of the fact northerners had taken Andalusian ladies to bride before (and, of course, vice-versa).

But more to the point, *he* was nothing for which she had any precedent before. She was at a loss as to the churning emotions inside of her as she looked at him, as he looked at her, eye to eye. They shouldn't be looking at each other that way, should they?

"I hope you will not think me too uncouth if I begin preparations immediately. Delay really does us no good, and anyway I do not mean to short-shrift it in any regard, so it will all take time."

She looked him over again appraisingly. He spoke and acted like a proper, educated noble rather than the rough highland bumpkin she had always pictured the Christian kingdoms in the north produced. By Allah, the man knew poetry! And he bore an aura of easy authority, doubtless from long battlefield command, as opposed to her now-dead husband, who had always seemed more like a spoiled, petulant child when he tried to be authoritative. It confused her, but maybe...maybe she was feeling hope, maybe there was room for hope in this. It was the best of her choices anyway, wasn't it?

She realized he was waiting on her for a response. A man, waiting on her word! Another shot of emotion surged through her. Who *was* this man, and how was he doing this to her? "Oh, ah, yes, that is...that is quite alright, that is, I understand."

He smiled at her. Another jolt. She noticed his straight, ready stance, his lean form, imposing yet relaxed. She hadn't seem him actually fight during the taking of the stronghold but Oh Allah, this man justly could be called a leopard! Her emotions tumbled round and about, guilt now waxing within her at the indecent thought.

"You are gracious as you are wise, princess." He inclined his head as he said it.

"How do you know how to speak like this?" she blurted. She frowned at herself as soon as she said it, cursing herself for sounding churlish in front of him.

He raised his eyebrows at the question. "Like what, majesty?"

"I'm sorry, I just...I've never met a Christian lord before, never talked to one." She looked down, breaking eye contact. "You aren't what I expected. At all."

"What were you expecting, if I may be so bold as to ask?"

"Oh, I don't know. More like...like the other one, the one I..."

She stopped, but he finished for her. "The one whose skull you nearly caved? That reminds me, I'm going to have to remember to find an Andalusian merchant, or perhaps a Jewish one, to acquire another lute." He smiled again. "I would love to hear you play."

She sucked in a breath at the familiarity of his tone. But then again, hadn't she just agreed to betrothal? She felt like every word he said caught her off-guard, left her feeling surprised and confused, uncertain how she felt about anything. Allah help her how was he doing this inside her? she thought.