Leofric and Godiva

"You receive a lot of business from the Minxy Mare, then?" Leofric queried lightly.

"Not as much as we used to, but things pick up in tax season, of course."

"Of course," Leofric said.

"You know, if you don't mind, you favor my late husband somewhat in size, and if you are in a hurry, I could lend you some of his things, until your order is ready... you might find folks a bit more friendly if you weren't wearing these," she said, inspecting the hem stitching with a small smile on her face.

"That would be very kind of you, thank you," Leofric said. Rose straightened and took in his broad shoulders, slim hips, and neck size with a critical eye before nodding and walking out of the room.

Stepping down from the platform where he'd stood for the seamstress' measurements, he looked longingly at a chair in the corner before deciding against it. The burlap pants had been chafing his sunburnt skin all day, and the very thought of sitting in them was excruciating.

Out of the corner of his eye, Leofric saw a small figure dart behind several bolts of cloth leaning in the corner. "In the name of His Highness, King Cnut, I charge thee stand and state thy purpose, villain!" he commanded.

Large blue eyes peered out of the cloth and a girl, no older than six years old, scrambled out from the rolls of cloth, straightened her dress, and clasped her hands in front of her tightly. "You seem overly short, villain. Are you a gnome?" he asked, squatting to look her in the eye.

The girl shook her head vigorously, but remained mute. Leofric leaned his head to see behind her, "Hmm... I see no wings upon your back, so you are no fairy... unless you, too, have also met up with the highway robber known as Lady Godiva and she stole them off your back," he said, scrutinizing her.

"I am a girl, sir! And Diva is not a highway robber! She's nice! She taught me the secret stitch that nobody else knows! You shouldn't say unkind things about good people when you wear those pants, sir. Those pants mean you take money from people who need it more. That's mean," she said, outraged.

"You know about these pants, then, Little One?" he asked, realizing belatedly that squatting in burlap was a very bad idea, but now that he had a direct source of information about Lady Godiva, he was reluctant to give up his advantage.

"I made those pants," the girl said proudly, pointing at a place near the hem at what was supposed to be the ankle, but was almost up at his knee. "That's where I do the secret stitch. Diva showed me how to backstitch so it doesn't unravel, but to do the secret stitch there so it looks pretty like a flower. See?" she said, turning his cuff and showing him the stitchery.

"Ah yes, very pretty. I wouldn't think the Lady Godiva believed I deserved such finery. She was quite upset with me, when last we met," he said, quietly.

"Did you try to take her money?"

"No... she, ah, asked me for something... and it was something I was not free to give her," Leofric said, carefully.

"Did she take it anyway? That's what she does with pants," the girl said matter-of-factly.

Leofric roared with laughter, making the girl back up several steps toward the rolls of cloth in the corner. Wiping tears from his eyes, he waved her back. "You are wise beyond your years, child. I suspect she took what she wanted without my knowing it... but she is such a lady that I think what she took is better off in her care. Do you see her often?"

The girl's answer was cut short when Rose re-entered the room with a hunter's tunic and pants. "These might be a bit snug on you, but they'll look and feel better than burlap," she said handing the clothing to Leofric. "Please give my best wishes to Lady Godgifu. I don't know what Anne and I would have done without her these last few years."

"I will, madam. You have my thanks," Leofric said, taking the clothes from her. "Your little one was just showing me a stitch she had learned from the Lady Godiva. Do you happen to--"

The seamstress whirled around just in time to see the back of the little girl's dress disappear around the corner. "THAT BETTER BE ALL YOU EVER LEARN FROM HER, ANNE!" Rose shouted. Then, turning, she skewered him with a glare, "You'd best be moving on, sir. You'll not gain favor here, talking about that woman with my daughter. I'll have your order ready this Saturday." After mumbling apologies, Leofric dressed quickly in the clothes and left.

The more he strode up the hill to the home of Lady Godgifu, despite his more comfortable clothing, the more Leofric grew weary. As a knight, he had lived his life in line with the Code of Chivalry. He was bound in his duties to the King, but obeying those God has placed in authority was only one of the vows in the Code. As he climbed and pictured himself pitching woo to Lady Godgifu, it struck him hard that he would be violating his vow to speak the truth at all times. How could he honorably attempt to marry a dried-up saint, when his heart and his mind kept wandering back to a naked sinner swimming in a secluded pond in the wood?

*** *** ***

Godiva leaned her head on her folded hands, as if in prayer. Why had she been so foolish? Why didn't she just scream, leave him there in the water, and steal his pants like she always did? It was his fault, really. Why was he was just floating there next to her? He hadn't tried to sneak up on her. He hadn't offered stupid words meant to fool her into a tawdry tryst. He hadn't looked anything like the overfed toads that Cnut had sent to drain her town of its life blood, either. He was beautiful... beautiful, and weary, and sad in a way that called to her, because she knew what it was to breathe the heavy air that he had breathed. She, too, had suffered wounds and endured a life of saying "no" to herself for the sake of duty. Now, her indulgence threatened to destroy all she had built.

She had to get Leofric out of town. That's all there was to it. She had to get him out of here before he ruined everything. She'd have to move fast, but unfortunately, moving fast was completely beyond her abilities at the moment.

"Astrid, I'll need my husband's staff today. I'm afraid I'm not feeling well," she said, after summoning her maid. Through the veil she wore, Godiva saw her maid's face turn into a mask of worry.

"Milady, you should stay in bed. Hulgar will--"

"It's Sir Hulgar, Astrid. He has earned the respect of his title many times over, but despite what he thinks, his feats have not earned him authority over me. Please fetch the staff," she said, watching the maid curtsey and leave the room. She sighed. Now, the maid would probably tell Sir Hulgar that she suffered an ailment of some sort and then her knight protector would badger her the entire day to lie abed and protect her health.

If Sir Hulgar knew that her "ailment" was actually a swath of angry, bright-red, and chafed skin between her soft thighs gained by galloping several miles bareback while naked after rigorously consorting with the latest tax collector in a clover patch, he would probably die of shock, but not before reminding her of the importance of her virtue and high moral standing to the town with his dying gasps.

As if she didn't know. Practically from her infancy, she had been taught that purity and virtue were the only things valued in a wife... so much so that she had actually trembled when Lord Wilfred had taken her hand upon their introduction. It was the first time a man who was not related to her had touched her. She remembered that his skin was rough, weather-worn from long days of riding on the King's orders to keep peace in the land. That's what he had called it, keeping peace.

Wilfred's hand was enormous compared to her small pale one. It was no stretch of the imagination to think that his hand could crush hers without even trying, but looking up into his eyes, she saw that such unwarranted violence was not in his nature. She noticed that he was only daring to touch her gently with only his fingertips, as if she were a newborn babe still in its mother's arms, his face solemn and concerned. His careful restraint made her laugh with delight, and she pulled him to her table to see her embroidery and the other crafts that women were expected to make. Curious, he touched the fine stitchwork, as if it were made by magic. She laughed again when his enormous fingers could barely pick up the tiny needles she used, but she loved that he had tried.

"You have clever fingers, Little One," he said, taking a knee so that he could see her face more closely.

"Oh? Is that why you've talked with my father about me?" she asked, coyly.

When she chanced a glance at him, she saw that troubled thoughts wrestled behind his eyes and she knew he was struggling with what to say to her. She felt sad that her childish flirtation had burdened him... perhaps he didn't even want to marry her. Men often didn't yearn to marry like women did. They didn't need to. They could ride and fight and have adventures without anyone thinking anything amiss. A woman who did not marry, though, she was a dangerous unknown. If she did not embroider, make food, manage the household, and above all, give her husband a family... people did not know what to do with her. They did not even know what such a woman was.

"Nevermind," she said and patted Wilfred's large hand before standing and taking it in hers, "Would you show me your horse? Papa says he looks like he's half-dragon--" she said, trying to lead him to the stables, before she stopped because Wilfred had remained where he was, kneeling next to her, holding her hand in his.

"Little One, a man marries a woman for the comforts she brings him," Wilfred said, his low gravely voice more accustomed to shouting orders at men and horses. "He marries to be cared for, to give his life some joy and peace," he said, his face weathered from life. "I spoke to your father, because after seeing you riding with your maid, so happy and carefree, I yearned for those comforts. I yearned for a home... and I knew I would have no peace until I knew you were safe in my care. That is why I spoke to your father... because when a man finds a treasure, he has no peace until he can hold it close to his breast. Will you let me keep you safe?" he asked.

"I would be most grateful to be in your care, Lord Wilfred..." she whispered, suddenly shy and acutely aware of his hand holding hers. "But, will you still show me your dragon?" she asked.

At that, Wilfred roared with laughter, startling her. "I will show you the fearsome beast, but you must do exactly as I say, Little One, lest he eat you up in a mouthful," he rumbled.

"Oh, honestly! Horses don't eat people! You're just trying to scare me. He wouldn't eat me any more than you would..." she scoffed, pulling on his hand as he got to his feet.

Wilfred scooped her up in his arms, ignoring her squeal of surprise, "Perhaps not *more* than I would, Little One," he said, nestling her under against his side and carrying her with one arm, "But don't tempt me to take a taste, ere the banns are read."

Godiva wiped the tears off her face under her veil, hearing footsteps returning to her room. Wilfred had kept her safe. She discovered that as long as she did as she was told, there was no gentler soul in the realm. Even their wedding night was defined by his restraint, for while she had been taught to expect pain as he broke her maidenhead, it was all done with such care that she barely felt any pain. As he strained silently over her, not even daring to give her his full weight, Godiva was in awe of how gentle he was as he slowly stroked inside her until he stilled in his release, shaking slightly. Then, he had rolled to his side and looked at her with grave concern, pushing down her shift and asking if it had hurt. That night, she was confused because it hadn't hurt... indeed, she had barely felt a thing.

That's what it was to be safe... to be protected from pain. As Wilfred often taught her, pain was everywhere, and ladies were not made for pain. He always said that pain changes a person... and it would break his care-worn heart if she ever changed. So, she lived within the small safe space that his countenance could tolerate. She lived within his rules, because his rules were the offspring of his love.

It was their first day touring his lands after their wedding that Wilfred commented how lovely she had looked in her veil as a bride. He said that, in knowing the others could not clearly see how precious a prize he had won, he had felt peace. Godiva knew Wilfred meant more than he had said, for she had noticed that he became restless and ill at ease when the driver had complimented her beauty as he helped her up into the carriage. Wilfred had suffered a life filled with confrontations that arose from such tiny offenses, that Godiva resolved to protect him from any challenges driven by her beauty and fashioned a short veil of a thin cloth to cover her face. The first day she wore it for him, his eyes had glowed with pride, and he breathed a peaceful sigh. There were no further troublesome compliments to her face after that.

Her tiny hands, though, were a similar problem. Godiva was certain that men were simply trying to be polite, but she noticed the clench of her husband's jaw, or the slight flare of his nostrils, when she took any hand offered to help her onto and off of a horse or carriage. So, she began riding less, limiting her times to when Wilfred was able to go with her and help her up and down from her horse. Though one day, after a long ride together, Wilfred had curtly dismissed the groom, telling him to return when they had left the stables. When she asked him if the groom had upset him, he shook his head, checking to see that they were alone before helping her down from the horse. "No, Little One, but I would not risk tempting him overmuch with the sight of your lovely hands or your sublime ankles. Your very skin could drive a man to distraction," he said. From that day on, Godiva never ventured out without gloves and tall boots, the sight of her very skin a threat to the well-being of her loving husband.

Despite these slight inconveniences, Wilfred's attentions to her were pleasant, and sometimes even approaching a quiver of something that was mysteriously more than pleasant, making her wish for more. Sadly, it was not to be after Lord Alfred's wife passed in childbirth. So many women died in giving life to others. Even the thought of watching her struggle to give birth to a babe began to torture Wilfred until he hesitated even to spill his milt inside her. It didn't matter. Children were so prone to spreading illness anyway, she told herself, wiping away the tears that inexplicably rolled down her cheeks as she changed her monthly rags again. And so, Godiva was protected... she was kept safe.

Then war came, as it always seemed to come. Wilfred returned to his duties for the King, but not before arranging his affairs to provide the greatest protection he could to his young wife. Believing that only wealth protected the weak from harm, he arranged for Godiva to inherit control of all his properties upon his death.

To be absolutely certain of her safety, he also charged his most experienced and fearsome guard with the lifelong care of her person: Sir Hulgar the Untempted. Under Sir Hulgar's care, Godiva had remained as covered and as untouched as a man could wish his wife to be while he was away at war. She had remained safe, even when they returned Lord Wilfred's broken body to her, and a new King took power. She had remained so safe, Godiva thought, that there was hardly any evidence that she had lived a life at all.

It came as quite a surprise to her when, one hot summer night, she suddenly had the impulse to sneak out of her home, and ride bareback until she came to the secluded pond where she used to swim as a child. It made even less sense to her when she took off her clothes and stepped gingerly into the cool dark water. It swirled around her thighs, the soft mud at the bottom squishing between her unbooted toes. The smell, rich with life, took her back to carefree childhood.

She swam out to the middle of the pond and floated atop the waters, feeling the ripples play about her breasts. She remembered when Wilfred had taken her nipple in his mouth, making her gasp in pleasure. He thought he had hurt her, of course, and ceased his attentions there, immediately. In the water, she reached up and brushed her hands over her nipples, feeling them harden. It was exquisite. Then, she took one in her fingers and, without knowing why, she gently pinched the pink bud. The shock of pleasure it sent through her made her yelp in surprise.

Swimming to shore, she lay down in a patch of clover and brushed her palms over her soft breasts, sighing with pleasure. With her hands, she followed the delicious sensations going through her body to the spot between her legs where Wilfred had given his attentions, so long ago. She closed her eyes and pictured his large frame, propped up over her on his arms, his hips gently pushing himself into her again and again as he shuddered in delight. She missed him so. She missed feeling a man enjoying her body. While it wasn't quite the same, she felt around the wet folds and pushed her finger inside, and the memory intensified. Hungry for more, she tried two fingers and the sensation was almost like laying with her dear husband again.

While thrusting her fingers into herself, her hand brushed against something swollen at the top of her wet slit and she sat up in shock, panting. What in heavens' name was that? She pulled her slippery fingers out of herself and gingerly touched the tender spot again, feeling trembling waves of pleasure radiate through her. She closed her eyes and continued rubbing the place, circling, shaking and stroking it until she was tossing her head with need, feeling some unstoppable force building inside her. Faster and harder she worked herself until with a cry, the feeling burst through her along with a spray of juices that wet the clover beneath her.

She lay there in the soft clover panting, her bare skin glowing in the moonlight, feeling like she had discovered something life-changing. Whether it was safe or not, Godiva loved being naked, and whatever ecstasy had just taken over her, she loved that, too. So began Godiva's life of sneaking out and briefly living a life away from the cares and responsibilities of a virtuous widow. It had saved her life.

It had also started her down a path that led to her floating naked next to a man that seemed to have as many duties and desires as she did... a man that she would risk anything to lay with in the clover again. Even now, her mind was tortured with the memory of his strong body crushing her, thrusting his hot length inside and pounding away while she screamed in pleasure. Shuddering, she wiped her gloved hands along her dress, trying to get rid of the sweaty feel on her hands. God's blood, she had to get Leofric out of town.

"My Lady, you are unwell," Sir Hulgar said, entering the room holding Wilfred's staff.

"It will pass, Sir Hulgar. I rode overmuch the other day. Is anyone here to be seen today?" Godiva said, pushing up to her feet. She regularly met with anyone who came to visit with her at the noon hour on Mondays and Fridays, from farmers wanting to discuss the price of beets, to children wanting to show her their drawings.

"Too many, as there always are," Sir Hulgar growled, "Rest. I will send them away, those with true need can--"

"Sir Hulgar, please remind me, which of us is the Lady Godgifu, Countess of Mercia, and devoted servant of the good people of Coventry?" Godiva asked, lightly.

She smiled softly behind her veil at the annoyed silence that followed her question. "You are, My Lady," Sir Hulgar grudgingly replied.