I am most definitely Not a Witch

I only wanted to see my Liege, but our kiss was too intimate. The dirty Horseman was close too, and I could see him fumbling with both hands down the front of his pants!

"Here we go, my pet," the Knight sang out. "Yes, Oh yes, you are a New Woman all right, I haven't had a cunt this tight in years!" he grossly marveled.

When he emptied his seed into me, all I could feel was joy, and a true hope that I would be with child after this.

Any New Woman that became pregnant tonight at the hand of a Royal Emissary would receive a yearly pension of one goat. All because a representative of the Crown participated in the ceremony. At least I would earn my goat, if I was so blessed, by the Knight Himself!

The Gentleman was looking at me intently as I recovered from my own 'little death', as they called the joy of a woman upon consummation.

"Usually I would let my Horseman, my Herald and a few of the older Pages have their way with you dear, but I will honor your mothers brave efforts," he claimed.

"Please tell her that I was fair to you, and I will send for any news of your father, if there is any to be had. You are dismissed," he finished.

He lifted me off of his softening cock and stood me before him, naked and dripping from my nest.

The Horseman rushed in and grabbed my treasured sash, thrusting it up between my legs.

"You must not bloody the floor wench, it would be a stain against my Lord and thus the King," he spoke in a lowered voice, perhaps in fear of losing his tongue. He needn't have bothered, as his master was already snoring.

He grabbed my clothes and hustled me out of the bedroom to the dying embers of the fireplace.

"Now, how about another drink or a leg of lamb?" the lecherous man offered, rubbing his hands together and running his tongue around his lips, like I was a juicy bit of meat. I was rushing to get my underdress over my nakedness.

"Oh, you won't be needing that M'lady," he laughed, coming in close for a feel of my breast.

I hit him hard, and with my full weight, driving with my hips as my mother had taught us. His eyes and his mouth flew wide open as he teetered on one foot, but my other fist came in and hit him hard in the ribs. When the force turned his back to me, I kicked him in the arse so hard that he flew into the bedroom door, bursting it off of it's hinges.

The Knight awoke with a start. Rising he grabbed his sword and scabbard from the bedpost and stood, totally naked, but ready for war! I shall never forget the sight of him!

"Gimpy! I told you to take her home!" he bellowed. He looked at me, with one breast hanging out of my covering and an angry look on my face. Both of my fists were clenched and I stood in the exact same pose as him, ready for my own war.

"Get Pinkee," he quietly instructed his miscreant servant.

"I will be taking my Mother home with me Sir. ...If you please," I added as I remembered my place.

"Bring the mother too," he called after his aide.

The young boy named Pinkee was an under-Page, a position that I was not familiar with. We had to show him the way, but he had a lantern, and he knew our streets enough to find his way back to the Mayor's lodge.

Mother still had him come in, and made sure he needed for not, before sending him back with a kiss to his cheek.

Mother's dress was ripped, but she was otherwise unharmed. Her body had many bruises on it, and she explained in detail how she came to have them.

"They took me to the common house on Willow Road. Shelly and Blair were there already, stretched naked on the tables. They were bleeding from their nests, and I begged them to let me help those young ladies, but they had other ideas." she explained.

"I was stripped, and that's where the dress was damaged. The roughians asked me if I would take liberty with them, and I told them to bugger off, but that just made them pick me up, and they tied me to my own table.

"Look at the old bird!" one of them mocked her. "She doesn't like a stiff cock perhaps?" he mused. "You look soft enough to produce another soldier for our King," he cried, "so let's get on with it!" He encouraged his fellow rapists.

Just then, the Horseman showed up, barging into the tavern as if his mission was from the King.

"I am here for that one, fellows," he lay his claim. "I won't stop you if you want to take her, and I'm certain that I would do that myself... Except, you will surely draw the wrath of Sir Corzian of DeVille, Commander of the Western Fortress and Son of Prince Jerican, the King's brother!"

And the rest you know.

Of course, we would not discover the fates of Shelly and Blair for a few days. Shelly would never produce a child after that night of horror, and Blair would never be seen in this village, and we doubted that she lived at all.

The smallest of things, can be the most significant though.

My sash of womanhood was a bloody ruin. The trickle I felt between my legs was the shattering of my flower. My hymen was torn into ribbons, and the Horseman had wiped the blood and the cum off of my thighs and off of the wooden floor with my precious sash.

Mother took one look at my sash, and tears sprang from her eyes. She went to her tiny sleeping chamber and returned with an old cloth. Unwrapping it before me, I could see blood stains covering a white fabric. It was her Sash of Womanhood, 19 years old almost to the day. It was folded and as clean as it could be made, but it was covered in blood stains.

Mother and I held each other, and cried about the state of our world.

There is always work. Mother was off to Lindsford for the calving season, as that was our cattle lands. I had to maintain the goats and lambs, with the odd need from the pig farmers, but they usually kept to themselves. This was not the season for the lambs, though the odd goat would be born at almost any time of the year.

I still had to rise very early and swing by our house, making sure that Carlson was doing well while mother was away.

Sarah was in the pastures, as she should be when the sun was in the sky and the other two would fill in for her or others throughout the day. Carlson was often on his own. He was 6 after all.

We were doing well, since the Knight had actually gotten news to us that father was still alive, and would be returning to us as soon as he had recovered from his wounds. The good King's man also sent father's pay ahead of him, which would anger father a great deal, but mother was overjoyed.

She immediately went to the Senior Priest and gave him his tithe, then to the Mayor to pay the outstanding town tax and then to her brother, who had fronted us for the latest war levy. Father would have paid his bar bill first, then stayed to sing of his adventures, before drinking and gambling away the remainder.

Finally, she went to the winery outside of town, and bought a large bladder, to be delivered to the Church Mews, for the clergy.

"The Witching hour approaches," she warned. "I should trust them to see that we are not witches, but it doesn't hurt to curry their favor."

She was known to be a cautious and prudent woman, an attribute that I hoped for myself.

I failed to conceive on that momentous night. Thankfully the quick acting - scoundrel of a Horseman, kept mother from being among the numerous other women to have been impregnated that night.

Four of the New Women were soon with-child, so the county was assured of four goats from the Palace. These goats were chosen by the Royal Breeder, as the best line for our specific section of the Kingdom. Their seed would strengthen our herds.

Four families hastily arranged marriages. With a Royal Goat as the mainstay for the dowry, the head of the family had an easy task. The four weddings would take place together, with at least one keg of mead and two or three of wine, to be delivered from the Capital, to help remind us where our bounty comes from.

Father came home in time for the early harvest, not that he would help. The conflict had ended, with both sides claiming victory, as men do. Of course the dead kept quiet, while the lame and broken spirits told the true story.

He was my mother's third husband, but the one I'd known the longest. He didn't beat us or abuse us, but he liked to pull the cork far too much. He was nearing 50, and a veteran of 2 wars and other minor skirmishes.

He had decided that it was time to retire, on his pension. Not many men lived past the half century, so the village accepted his lethargy. Mother and I did far more for the community, with the odd tip as our reward, so we carried him with our good standing.

The great Wedding Ceremony was this weeks end. The Church always held the Sacred Joining, but the fun would be found in the town's Main Tent.

As a New Woman I was an honored guest, but it took a debt to Mother to get us in a pew. Our family did not own a pew, so this was the first time I had ever gotten to sit inside the church. I was thrilled to find the beautifully bound song books on a side shelf. Carlson was forbidden to touch one, but mother made sure that all of us could read, and we could sing like a tree full of sparrows!

Of course I had to wear my New Woman Sash, in all of it's bloody splendor, but to my surprise, all of the sashes were similarly bloodied!

The four Brides wore white dresses, but their big bellies were displayed proudly. They were all five months pregnant, and two of them had gained twice the weight that they should have.

Their appointed husbands were certainly nothing to look at, ranging in age from 20 to 30. They were all working men, with no land of their own.

The Joining was boring, since we couldn't understand a word of it. Mother quietly whispered to us some of it's meaning but it was too lofty for us to really comprehend. God this, God that, blah blah blah.

At one point all of the Brides stood and removed their sashes, then handed them to their Husbands, who promptly returned them to the Fathers of the Brides. This was a passing of the woman's virtue to her new Lord - her husband. Then the Husband would honor the family of the Bride by returning it to the man that protected that virtue until this special day.

A farce, to be sure, but most traditions are. Father was wise to sleep through this one. Sitting there wearing his war ribbons on his Red Sash that he was awarded for his grievous injuries. There were far too many Red Sashes worn these days.

The girls wore hand-me-down dresses, but they were clean and untattered. Father and Carlson wore matching black trousers and white flannel shirts, while mother and I wore the same dresses that we had worn five months ago, without any flowers.

Nearing the conclusion of the Holy Rituals, there was a great noise at the doors of the Church. The Priest immediately stopped for this outrageous interruption, but a young Page came in, and bowed to the Altar, then ran as fast as a deer, to the High Priest. His outfit was quite regal, so no one would dare to stop him.

The old man of God had to stoop lower than normal for the boy, so that the news was only for his ear. He soon dismissed the Page with a kiss to his forehead, and he turned to his flock. He stood there silent, ...waiting.

This time the door burst open and a Herald strode in with no regard to God or his Priests. He walked to the front and turned to address the masses.

"Good people! Good citizens! Men, Women,..." his booming voice reverberated through the large chamber. "I present to you on this day of Celebration...." He continued with the sweeping movement of his arms. "The Commander of the Western Fortress, The Defender of His Majesties Frontier..."

Three counties over, they knew who had arrived before the Herald finished his demonstrative introductions.

"Sir Corzian of DeVille!" he shouted and indicated the entry doors.

Every eye went to the door, but there was no one. Then the little Page ran in, and everyone roared with laughter over the timing of it! Finally the Knight strode in, not wearing his armor, nor bare chested as I had last seen him, but with a great purple robe with gold trim, over a shirt of the best white satin and trousers of the finest dark linen. He had no visible weapon, though his rank allowed him that privilege anywhere that Royalty was not attending, even a Church.

The subordinate Priests ran about to find seating for the King's Representative, as all Knights were. They brought six chairs, from their private quarters, placing the plushest among them in the center.

A new front row was created and the Knight's staff overfilled it, with two Pages that looked like twins, sitting on one of the chairs together. The familiar Horseman sat at the right of his Liege, and he briskly shooed away the Priests, indicating that the young Pages were fine sitting together.

When quiet was restored, the High Priest started at the very beginning, for the pleasure of our honored guest.

It didn't sound so boring the second time through, and I vowed to learn Latin, as my mother did. I kept looking at the Knight, wondering how many New Women he had bedded since he made me a Woman. He was the only man to fill my womanhood, and I often dreamed about that exquisite sex. Having my own room now, I had enjoyed many 'little deaths', while reliving that special night, but it was never as deep as the one I experienced that special night, ...and more sadly, I was always alone.

Mother rushed us home as soon as the Wedding was concluded. She didn't want to risk any of her girls around anyone that had special immunities to go and do whatever they want. Even the Knight's Military Staff could take what, or whom they chose, outside of the Church of course, or perhaps the Mayor's family.

Father was not worried though, he set off to the soldier's tent, where any Veteran could get the first tankard for free, and often more, if a wealthy Officer was in town.

Carlson and the girls were put down, with Sarah in charge, but mother and I had to attend the festivities. Mother, to represent the Animal Healing Gild, and me as an unwed woman. Most unwed women dressed in their best clothes, in an effort to find a husband, but I was happy to start a family later, rather than soon.

We got to the main tent before darkness filled the sky, and found a table with other women from our neighborhood. They had been drinking almost as heartily as the men, but they rose to dance with every invitation. Even the oldest men got to hold a soft woman for a little while on wedding nights.

We stayed until after the last Bride and Groom had visited the main tent. Some of the younger women had disappeared hours ago, in the embrace of a lover or back to their homes.

Just as we gathered our things, the Horseman came into the tent, and walked boldly to our table.

This time I saw that his attire was immaculate as he bowed to my mother and then to me. His feathered hat was the only one in the tent.

"The Gentleman would enjoy your company this evening young Miss," he spoke directly to me. "He said that I was not to insist, M'Lady, and that I am to help you safely home if that is where you prefer to go," he quietly reported. "Please don't turn me away Lass, he hasn't been the same these last 5 months!"

What!? I thought, as my head was filled with the conflict of desire and romance and the reality of our widely different stations in life.

"We will be heading home now," mother answered for me, but I had to nod in confirmation before the Horseman would accept it.

"Very well Ladies, lead on," he sighed and swept his arm toward the exit.

We traveled along the river to get home, and the Knight's man stayed with us all of the way, but he trailed us by 4 or 5 paces. At the end of our road there were two men blocking the way, though we were not concerned, one being old.

"Just a moment Ladies," the older one spoke and raised his arms to stop us. The other shuffled his feet and wrangled his hands.

"You two will be the guests at our party," he cackled and the younger one grabbed my wrist as two more came out of the thicket.

"Hold, you ruffians!" the Horseman demanded in his deepest voice.

Mother punched the younger man that had my wrist, then I kneed him in the ball sack. A blade appeared out of nowhere, swinging into my mothers throat, but a hand came flashing into the fray, stopping the thrust with the point only a hair's width from her neck.

"You men should heed the commands of your better's," the Horseman calmly explained to the old man, as he twisted the dagger from his grasp.

Two more men came out of the thicket, in case it was not a fair fight.

"Ladies, would you mind stepping behind me, while I take care of this unpleasant business?", Gimpy the Horseman bravely offered.

We both stepped back to give him the lead, but we were not going to let him face 6 men alone.

Two of the attackers had swords, while the others had daggers or meat cleavers. The Horseman immediately pulled a second dagger from his hip scabbard and stuck it into the old man's side while kicking the younger in the face with a bone crushing smash, then he swung through the air, using the dying old man as a fence post, sweeping the legs out from under the next brute he snagged the man's sword from his very hands. When he pulled the blade across the man's throat, they all realized the folly of their task, with four running and two laying there in the final throes of their death dance.

Mother and I stood there with fists clenched, but nothing to do but pick up the Horseman's hat. The shock of the moment could not disguise the ease with which the Horseman defended us. I couldn't help but remember kicking him through a door, five months past.

We got to our house without any more fuss. The neighbors were all awake now, but they stayed in their doorways.

"Ladies, It gives me a heavy heart to leave you, but you should know that we are camped by the mill, on the South side of the river, should you change your mind, but please don't venture out on your own at night," and with that he was gone.

I slept with my mother that night. Father would sleep it off wherever he passed out, so I was not intruding. I marveled that the bed was the same size as mine, and father is a big man.

I also thought about a chiseled face, broad muscular shoulders... and a thick, veiny pickle - turned up!

"How did you sleep, my child?" My mother was the only one that could call me that, except for a Priest, I suppose. Her broad smile suggested that I hogged the entire bed.

"I slept well... Why do you ask, with that mischievous grin on your face?" I asked.

"You did a lot of moaning last night, but you didn't seem afraid in whatever vixen enterprise you were dreaming of," she explained, beaming with a knowing smile.

"I'm sure it was the venison or pork making me gassy!" I frantically explained, but mum was too smart for me.

"Go and see if he will take a meal with you," she suggested, not needing to say His name.

I did not require further council.