Freyas Saga Ch. 02

There was nobody else in the house. The man gave Ulf a beer, and after they had drunk in silence, the man said "What is it?"

"I've got a bit of a problem," said Ulf.

"What sort of problem?"

"A young man," said Ulf, "awfully sure of himself, he is. He's being a thorn in my side. I have a feeling he plays for your side."

"Who is he?"

"Young bloke. One of Sir Erik's. Good-looking boy. Twin. Has a sister."

The man smiled.

"Siegfa."

"He does, then?" said Ulf. "Play for your side?"

"I don't know for sure," said the man, "but I'd bet my father's cock on it."

"Why don't you know for sure?"

"He's a virgin, far as I know. Chaste as the snow is cold. Never been known to be with anyone. But I have ways of telling."

"What are they?" said Ulf, interested.

"The way a man stands when he talks to you. The way he looks at you. The way he looks at other men. The way he doesn't look at girls. I'll bet he's one of ours."

"Good," said Ulf. "Then I'd like you to make him realise it."

The man's smile broadened.

"Well," he said, "this makes a pleasant change from what you usually want me to do."

"For once, he might be one of yours. If he is, then you're doing him a service. If he isn't, then just rough him up the usual way."

"How much?" said the man.

"Put it this way," said Ulf. "If he's not one of yours, I want him ashamed enough not to show his face for a long time," said Ulf. "So if it's possible to do it in such a way that he'll be found, then do it that way. On the contrary, if he does want it, feel free to make him into your lapdog. If you can tame him, do so. Then everyone wins."

"What's this boy done?"

"Just a bloody barrack-room lawyer," said Ulf. "Needs to learn that there's more to life than being right all the time. Reckon you can do that?"

"Oh yeah," said the man, grinning. "I reckon I can do that."

***

Siegfa returned to his rooms and told his sister what had happened.

"What do you think?" said Carfryn, staring at her brother with wide eyes.

"I do not know," he said. "Everything he said reassures me. Yet my heart warns me not to trust him."

"Your heart is wise, brother," said Carfryn. "You cannot trust him. I think you must now go to His Grace, and speak directly. His Grace will have it out with Sir Ulf."

"If I am wrong," said Siegfa, "then I am disgraced, and you with me."

"Do you feel you are wrong?" said Carfryn. "Did you not see what you saw?"

"I saw what I saw," said Siegfa resignedly.

"Then you must hold to that," said Carfryn. "You must, brother, or Sir Ulf will talk you into a web of words that you will not be able to escape from. Go to the Baron in the morning."

"You are right," said Siegfa, and Carfryn embraced him.

They took a bath together, and talked quietly about old times, and about the uncertain future, and then Carfryn dried her brother and Siegfra dried his sister, and they went to bed, and lay there.

As Carfryn lay with her brother lying innocently in her arms, she was filled with a huge and nameless sadness. It had no source, but seemed to fill her up like a river overflowing its banks. She started weeping silently, and when Siegfra felt her body shaking he turned and looked at her with concern.

"Sister," he said, "what are these tears?"

"I do not know," she said. "I cannot account for them. I just fear for us, brother. I fear for what will come."

"Do not fear," he said, "for I am strong and able, and you are wise and prudent and have at least my strength. Together we cannot bring dishonour on our house."

There was a knock at the door. Siegfa got up, put on his jerkin and breeches, and opened it. A serving girl was outside.

"I have a message for my lord," she said, and handed Siegfa a scroll. He read it, nodded and came over to the bed where his sister lay.

"I must go," he said. "I have been called to a meeting with someone who knows of this matter. I will not be long."

He buckled on his sword belt and put on his boots. Carfryn watched him, and as he headed for the door she could no longer help it but cried out.

"Brother! No! Do not go! Stay with me!"

"It is a meeting at the stables, sister, nothing more," said Siegfa, smiling at her, puzzled.

"Stay with me," she pleaded, and he saw, at last, what was in her eyes, and in her thoughts. He saw what she felt when she looked on him.

His smile vanished, and he advanced on her, his face full of anger.

"You forget yourself," he hissed. "Have some shame, sister. Learn some shame. I will return and we will talk of this. Say your prayers."

He headed for the door and left, and Carfryn saw the girl give her a worried look before closing the door.

Carfryn lay on the bed and buried her face in the bolster and wept, her body shaking with shame and mortification.

***

Siegfa went to the stables, where the note had told him to go, and he was surprised to find it empty.

"Who's here?" he said.

There was no-one. The girl stood in the doorway. He turned and saw her.

"You can go," he said, and tossed her a few coin, which she gratefully caught. He heard her footsteps recede across the gravel in the courtyard.

The stable smelled of oats and horse piss. The horses themselves were either asleep or absent.

"Who's here?" he said again.

A man stepped out before him. Siegfa knew him by site, one of Sir Ulf's men. A tall, handsome, knight named Harasteorra.

"I know you," said Siegfa.

"And I know you," said Harasteorra.

"You summoned me," said Siegfa. "Why?"

"To get to know you better," said Harasteorra.

"What do you mean?" said Siegfa. "To know me better? I have been seeking to find others who also saw Sir Ulf at Casman, who will support me when I go to the Baron."

"I wasn't at Casman," said Harasteorra, smiling at Siegfa and approaching him slowly.

"I know you were not," said Siegfa. "Do you know one who was?"

"I know plenty," said Harasteorra. He was holding a bottle of wine. He took a long pull at it and smacked his lips, smiling at Siegfa, who stood baffled, nervous, unnerved by the masculine presence of this large knight, in the stables, in the dead of night, approaching him, starting to tower over him.

"Then can you have them meet me?" said Siegfa.

"I might," said Harasteorra. "It depends on what you will give me in return."

"I have nothing to give," said Siegfa, "save my gratitude."

"Oh, come now," said Harasteorra. "I think you have much to offer one such as me."

"I have no money and no land," said Siegfa. "All I have is my honour."

"I'm not interested in your honour," said Harasteorra, stopping in front of Siegfa and smiling at him, candidly, looking him in the eye.

"Then I have nothing to give you," said Siegfa softly, nervously.

"Oh, but you do," said Harasteorra. "You really do."

"I don't know what you mean," Siegfa breathed, trembling, as Harasteorra slowly, gently reached out and stroked the youth's smooth face.

"You do know what I mean," said Harasteorra. "Come now, lad. I'm right, aren't I?"

"Right about what?" said Siegfa.

"You're not ... like the other lads, are you? You're a serious sort. I know you. When everyone's getting washed and we're all standing around in the altogether ... you get the same feeling I get, don't you?"

Harasteorra stared down into the boy's pale blue eyes. Siegfa was trembling, poised between terror and longing, staring up at him, wanting it to be true.

"Do you want me to be honest, Siegfa?" said Harasteorra softly. He was loving this job. It was the best ever.

"It is our duty to be honest," Siegfa breathed.

"You like men, Siegfa," said Harasteorra. "You've always preferred men. The sight of a man's body excites you. You've never done anything about it because you feel it's wrong. I'm here to tell you that it's not wrong. It can be wonderful. All you have to do is ... yield."

"But," Siegfa stammered, "the dishonour ..."

"How can it be dishonourable to be what you are?" said Harasteorra.

"Oh God," Siegfa whimpered, as Harasteorra put his lips to the youth's neck, and touched his shoulders, holding him gently but firmly in place as he kissed his way up Siegfa's jawline and finally reached Siegfa's mouth.

Harasteorra kissed Siegfa, pushing his tongue into the young man's mouth, and Siegfa moaned.

Harasteorra chuckled in his throat.

"You do love it," he murmured.

"I've never done this before," Siegfa whimpered. "Yes, I do."

"I knew it," said Harasteorra. "Come. Off with these."

He grabbed Siegfas sword belt and opened it; it fell to the grass. Siegfa made to grab it, but Harasteorra quickly lifted Siegfa's jerkin over the young man's head, and then pulled down Siegfa's breeches, stripping the younger man naked.

Siegfa shivered and gasped, covering his nudity with his hands, and then he watched in wonder as Harasteorra stripped naked too, uncovering his glorious, muscled body, and Siegfa gained the courage to uncover himself and step out of his boots so that he stood naked and displayed to Harasteorra, staring at the older knight with longing.

"Oh my," murmured Harasteorra. "Siegfa, you are beautiful."

"Please," Siegfa gasped, and Harasteorra enveloped the youth in his brawny arms and kissed him and took him to the hay piled on the stable floor.

Siegfa felt like it was a dream; nothing in his life had ever felt so right, so natural. Harasteorra seemed to know exactly what it was like to be him, and far from making him feel that he was betraying his life as a knight, it felt like a fulfilment; what could be more natural than to embrace a brother knight naked and make him feel beloved?

They lay in the hay, kissing and running their hands over each other's bodies, and then Harasteorra put his cock in Siegfa's hands and encouraged the youth to take him in his mouth. Siegfa responded joyfully, and Harasteorra was marvelling at how readily the young man took to this new knowledge of himself, when Siegfa looked up at him, his large blue eyes shining, and said "Can you make love to me?"

"You mean ..." said Harasteorra.

"I mean, as a man does a woman," said Siegfa. "I wish to be you as a woman is to the man who loves her."

"Not quite," said Harasteorra, "as you're not a woman. Women have cunts and arses; men have cocks and arses. You do know the difference?"

"Yes," said Siegfa. "I know how women's bodies are made."

Siegfa looked crestfallen, but he was so glowing with arousal and so puppyish in his enthusiasm that Harasteorra judged he was ready to go to the next level.

"However," said Harasteorra, stroking Siegfa's cropped head, "when a man loves another man, there is one part that does double duty."

Siegfa looked up at him again, trembling with desire, and Harasteorra reached behind Siegfa and let his fingers run between Siegfa's buttocks.

"This part," Harasteorra said, "will serve as your boy-cunt, if you'll let me."

"Ooooh," Siegfa gasped. "Show me what to do."

Harasteorra found a wooden jar of goose grease by the stable door, and as he went back down to the other end of the stable, and saw the Siegfa lying on his belly in the hay, the youth propping himself up on his elbows, smiling at Harasteorra as he returned, his pert, round bum shining in the moonlight ... Harasteorra reflected that in all his time as one of Ulf's enforcers, making someone into a pet had never felt so much like falling in lust.

Harasteorra knelt behind Siegfa and pushed a half-handful of grease between the young man's buttocks. Siegfa groaned with pleasure, shaking with the extremity of his arousal, and when Harasteorra mounted him and pushed his stiff cock between Siegfa's tight, deep buttocks and into the youth's asshole, Siegfa lowered his face into the hay and moaned from the gut.

Harasteorra fucked Siegfa up his young arse for a long, slow, luxurious time, Siegfa squirming and whimpering and tearful and ecstatic beneath him, and Siegfa confessed his love, and Harasteorra accepted it and kissed the boy and urged him to cum, feeling Siegfa's cock pulsing in his hand, and it was wonderful, and Harasteorra was congratulating himself on the most painless ever job of turning someone, when he was suddenly aware that there were other men in the room.

He paused.

"What is it?" Siegfa whimpered.

"This is private," said Harasteorra, discreetly withdrawing from Siegfa and grabbing his own breeches and pulling them on in one motion.

Siegfa was not so practiced. He rolled over and gasped and flushed crimson and scrabbled for his clothes, which weren't there.

There were five of them, all of them in shadow.

"You weren't supposed to fuckin' fall in love with him," said one of them. "You were supposed to shut him up."

Harasteorra, glanced at Siegfa, who was gaping at them and at him, in horror, shock, and betrayal. He cursed inwardly. Who the fuck were this lot?

Yet he knew who they were, really.

"I've got this," he said. "You can go."

Siegfa was curled up, naked, on the stable floor, aghast, staring at the shadowy figures and at Harasteorra.

"What is this?" he managed to gasp.

"I said," Harasteorra repeated, "I've bloody got this. Be on your way."

He rose up to his full height.

"Don't think so," said the speaker. "You looked a lot like you were having too much fun. We want this one silenced."

"I've fucking got this," said Harasteorra, sotto voce, leaning into the speaker's face. The speaker was masked.

"Shut up, gay boy," said the speaker. "You've had your fun. The rest is business."

Harasteorra was not a good man. He had done cruel things. He had some regrets. Not too many, as he'd learned to live without them.

He opened his mouth, and he smelt, rather than saw or felt, the point of the dagger just below his chin. He didn't move, as the other five men descended on Siegfa and quickly tied a bag over the young man's head, and tied his wrists behind his back, and turned him over so that he lay on his belly on the cobbles.

Siegfa made a muffled scream, and struggled. The first one mounted him. Siegfa screamed once again, desperately. The first one was fiddling around beneath himself, and then Siegfa screamed again, from the gut, and Harasteorra closed his eyes and thought Ulf, you fucking, fucking, fucking bastard. You bastard.

Siegfa's body shook as the first man raped him, and Harasteorra raised his hands in a pacifying gesture, as if to say, I won't interfere, I want nothing to do with this.

The speaker dragged him outside and Harasteorra closed his ears to the muffled screams of Siegfa being gang-raped inside the stables.

"Now," said the speaker, "we have an understanding, right, gay boy? Your work is done. You'll be paid. Pretty boy in there will live, don't worry. We'll make sure he's found here, so that nobody will ever believe anything he fucking says, ever again. And you will not get ideas that you can start fucking a knight of the realm. Because the boss does not like your sort. All right? He thinks you're disgusting, if you want to know. So stick to the poor. That's more your area."

"Thanks," said Harasteorra.

There was a noise from the shadows. A stifled sob. The speaker whipped around.

Then the serving girl ran out, belting across the courtyard, sobbing, desperate to get away. The speaker cursed and ran off and Harasteorra ran with him.

She was young and strong; they were trained and stronger. They caught up with her in the outer courtyard, near the cesspit. The speaker dived at her and tackled her to the ground.

He rolled the girl onto her back. She was mousy-haired and sort of pretty, with dark circles under her eyes. She stared up at them in terror.

Harasteorra looked down at her with something like compassion. He knew what they had to do.

"Please, sirs," she begged, "I saw nothin', I don't know anythin', I just passed a message, I was comin' down and I saw you talkin' and I thought it best to hide, but I don't know anythin' ..."

"You took the message to Sir Siegfa," said the speaker curtly.

"Yes, sir, it was I," she said.

Oh, you poor, poor bitch, thought Harasteorra.

The speaker looked up at him, and even through the mask, Harasteorra reckoned he could detect a shred of something like anger, that he had to do what he was about to do.

"Fuck. I'm sorry, love," the speaker said, and he indicated to Harasteorra. Harasteorra dropped to the ground and held the girl down, while the speaker undid her clothes. Harasteorra held her cap in her mouth so that her screams would be muffled, but it was important that her clothes not be ripped off, but removed intact.

She stared up at them through uncomprehending, tear-filled eyes as they stripped her naked. Then the speaker mounted her and wrapped her blouse around her head, so he wouldn't have to look at her face, and as she made muffled whimpers for mercy, he raped her.

Harasteorra forced himself to watch, forced himself to try to communicate with her, through his mind, or something, to make her understand that none of this was her fault, she'd just been caught up in something that was bigger than all of them.

When he'd finished, the speaker got off her and dragged her to her feet and tightened the blouse over her head, holding her wrists behind her back. She tottered, sobbing, her pale body gleaming in the faint moonlight. The speaker muttered to Harasteorra "All right, fuck off, I'll take this," and he dragged the whimpering girl over towards the cesspit.

Harasteorra stood still and listened to the receding sound of the girl's cries, muffled by the cloth, and then he heard her be unmuffled and she screamed once, in panic and terror, and then there was a splash and a bubbling noise that went on for a long time, and then, nothing.

He walked back to the inner courtyard, and approached the stables, and didn't look at the men coming out of them. He went in, and ignored the naked, sobbing, bleeding youth lying prone and on the cobbles, and collected his clothes, and went out to the courtyard to get dressed.

One day, he said to himself.

One day, either this will come back on me, or I will avenge this.

But he knew, deep in his heavy heart, that it would probably be the former.

Back at home, there was a bottle of the '45 he'd been saving for a night when he'd need it. This, it seemed, was that fucking night, right enough.

Harasteorra walked home, feeling his heart cooling in his chest to a lump of stone.

***

Carfryn awoke, suddenly, to find the bed empty.

She sat up, naked as she was, and knew that something had gone wrong. She got out of bed, and without even bothering to put on a robe, she grabbed a candle and went out of the room, and down the stairs, and out of the castle, into the night of the courtyard.

It was a quarter moon, and dark, but there was still some light. She went across the courtyard and headed for the stables. As she approached, she heard the sound of sobbing.

Her heart pounding, she entered.

Siegfa was naked on the ground, his body bruised, blood between his legs. He was shaking with sobs. He looked up at her.

Before him was his jerkin, his breeches, his sword belt.

His sword was out. He was holding it by the hilt.

"Brother," she gasped, and knelt by him.

Siegfa looked up at his sister, his eyes full of tears.

"Sister," he sobbed, "I was not worthy."

And before she could stop him, he raised the sword and drew it across his throat.

Carfryn froze, as his warm blood fountained over her face and body. She reached out and grabbed the sword, but it was too late. He stared at her, the life leaving his eyes, and he sank back in death.

She knelt there, naked and covered in his blood, staring at his lifeless body, for a long time.