It had been like a dream as she watched its sister ships driven along by oar and wind like multi-coloured butterflies. She gave a wry smile; Sigurd’s dragon fleet was certainly not as innocuous as those iridescent creatures. And it was not a dream; the strange land she’d been brought to after six long days of travelling had proved that. Iceland – it was a place she had never heard of.
When they landed the men escorted Rowena and their chieftain into the hills. ‘Iceland,’ she said aloud. It sounded as forbidding as the man himself.
She turned restlessly and sat up in bed; a bed like nothing she had ever known. It was huge and hewn of wood with four posts at either corner. The posts at her head were carved in the likeness of an eagle. Down-filled pillows cushioned her back, fine linen and wool covered her. Furs lay at the foot of the bed to warm her feet if the nights grew cold.
Sigurd had not joined her in that bed, she was thankful to say. Upon their arrival she was given a meal in the place they called the fire-hall, and shown to the bedchamber that was partitioned off the entrance hall, where exhausted she had quickly fallen asleep.
But it had not been a peaceful sleep; a cold-eyed eagle that reminded her of Sigurd haunted her dreams. It roamed a land surrounded by ice floes where fire-breathing dragons lived.
Sigurd had certainly resembled the creature when he emerged from his sickroom. His eyes were threatening, his nostrils flaring with suppressed anger.
The door to the chamber opened and Rowena cowered in the bed, afraid of seeing her husband and being punished again, but a flaxen-haired woman entered. She looked up cautiously, wondering what tongue she would be greeted in, and the woman surprised her by speaking perfect English.
‘I bring you food, mistress,’ she said shyly.
Rowena thanked her and took the soapstone bowl from her, which contained a thick broth. ‘Sigurd…’ she said awkwardly. The woman gave her a blank look and Rowena blushed. She did not want her to think she was missing the caresses of her new husband, not when her rear was still so sore. ‘I was just wondering where he was,’ she explained.
‘You slept late. It’s almost noon. The chieftain’s been up for hours. He is out in the pastures. The men go a-viking for adventure and gain, but when they return they are farmers again.’
Rowena combed her fingers through her tangled hair. She had never slept so late in her entire life. Feeling hungry she tasted the food. ‘Mmm,’ she said appreciatively, and received a pleased grin in return. ‘What’s your name?’
‘I am called Algitha, mistress.’
‘And you are Saxon too, are you not?’
Algitha smiled. ‘Yes. I was taken from my village a long time ago.’
Rowena wondered at her composure, she certainly didn’t sound like a slave. She almost choked on the broth, for what else was she, Rowena, if not Sigurd’s slave. ‘We are a long way from home,’ she said soberly.
‘Yes, mistress.’
‘How do you stand it?’
‘I am happy here.’
‘How is that possible?’ Rowena absently chewed her food.
‘I often went hungry before,’ Algitha explained patiently. ‘Here I eat well and am treated kindly.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Rowena strove to hide her surprise.
When the meal was finished the woman brought her some water for washing, in a bronze bowl. Still feeling tired and ill used she gave a little cry when she tried to move from the bed.
Algitha was immediately concerned. ‘What ails you, lady?’
Rowena missed Mildred. Sigurd had forbidden her to bring her handmaiden to Iceland. She knew it was another form of punishment, and deep down hoped she would bond with Algitha much as she had with Mildred. ‘I had an accident,’ she replied nervously, thinking that Algitha might be able to relieve some of her pain.
Turning over on her front she lifted her shift to reveal her curvy but striped bottom. Algitha’s hands went to her mouth in shock. ‘Mercy me, what has happened to you?’ Though she had a good idea that Sigurd had beaten the poor lady badly. ‘I’ve just the thing,’ she said. ‘I’ll be back in no time.’
True to her word, she was soon smoothing a cooling salve on Rowena’s buttocks. Her hands were so soft and gentle Rowena sighed her pleasure. ‘Oh, Algitha, how well you do your job.’
‘Thank you, my lady, I know what pain feels like and can sympathise with you.’
Rowena turned slightly to see the woman better. ‘You have been beaten?’
Algitha flushed. ‘Yes.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Rowena declared in confusion. ‘You said you have been well treated.’
The young woman’s colour deepened. ‘I… I am usually,’ she stammered. ‘The last few months have been good.’
Rowena picked up on the woman’s distress. ‘You mean things were easier for you with the army away?’ Algitha dropped her head and Rowena immediately knew who the culprit was. ‘Sigurd beats you, doesn’t he?’ The woman was obviously reluctant to implicate her husband, so she tried to allay her fears. ‘Don’t forget, I know from experience just how much Sigurd enjoys humiliating women. I did not marry my husband willingly, Algitha. I was forced into it; so don’t be afraid of offending me. The man is a beast.’
Algitha’s nose flared in anger. ‘He is a beast! He has rigged restraining chains in one of the store cupboards to hang his victims from.’
Rowena trembled; it was worse than she expected.
Algitha patted her shoulder. ‘Now is not the time to talk of these things. You need to rest. Let me help you.’
As the woman began to cream her again, Rowena relaxed. Her eyes closed and though she winced occasionally, the pain soon eased. ‘That’s wonderful,’ she said gratefully, a smile lifting her lips.
Algitha stroked the delightful cheeks, tutting at the bruises that stained the perfect skin. Rowena was beginning to fall asleep when she felt the woman’s fingers slip into her private channel.
‘You are in need of some tender care,’ Algitha clucked over her. ‘A massage will send your megrims away, relax you.’
Rowena was about to protest when Algitha’s probing fingers found the centre of her desire and began to stroke it gently. Rowena gasped and, despite her reservations, her thighs opened wider so she was able to attend to her more easily. As the fingers stroked her vulva she cooed over her like a dove. ‘Lady, you deserve to be loved not beaten. Let Algitha show you what joys await you at my hands.’
Rowena knew her channel was beginning to fill with her secretions; as for the first time in her life she was being shown what it was like to be touched there by another female. She sensed it was wrong, but after her punishment and the cruel lovemaking of her husband, she was enjoying the gentle caress.
She felt Algitha’s breath on her thighs, as the handmaiden knelt on the bed and put her head between her legs. Her tongue flicked to her nectar and she felt her lick, smacking her lips in enjoyment.
‘Oh, lady, your honey is delightful, so sweet and warm, it fair turns me to mush. But I wonder if you would mind getting to your knees so I may reach you better.’
Rowena was bewitched, and without demure she changed her position on the bed.
‘And if you can elevate your bottom I’ll put a pillow under you for your further comfort,’ the handmaiden urged.
A pillow was wedged beneath Rowena and her bottom was raised. She found she liked the position and wiggled a little. Algitha gave a cry of delight, and Rowena became speechless as the woman’s head ducked between her thighs and she licked to find her throbbing nub. Her clever fingers began to caress her breasts with such tenderness Rowena was completely under her spell. Algitha stroked her nipples with her thumbs and Rowena sighed, then gave a little cry when the soft wet tongue circled the nub between her thighs. Her bottom rose even higher and, with her two hands grasping the other pillows, she concentrated
on the wonderful feelings that spread right through her.
Algitha lapped her like a cat laps milk, and Rowena’s stomach tightened as she gave in completely to the sensual pleasure. The clever tongue teased and tantalised with great expertise. Algitha had learned well how to please her mistresses and if she were lucky, as she often was, they would return the favour.
This lady was new to Sapphic pleasure but she could tell by her abandonment she was one of her successes. Men were far too keen to obtain their own release to bother with the feelings of their ladies. It was little wonder many turned to their own sex for gratification.
One of her hands left Rowena’s breast and slid into her wet furrow. She coated a finger with juice, and then finding the opening to her vagina began to probe inside. Her finger went deeper and deeper before sliding quickly in and out. Another finger slid into that warm place and she smiled again as Rowena began to pant. Algitha was pleased; after all, she was only there to serve her mistress.
Rowena had never known such ecstasy, and as wild spasms ran through her muscles her legs began to shake with the power of her climax. Afterwards she lay in her bed in utter bliss. It was true she was a little embarrassed and shy, but Algitha soon cured that by taking her into her arms and kissing her soft lips.
‘Girly love is the best, don’t you agree, mistress?’
Rowena was able to taste her own juices on the sweet mouth. She had never been kissed so passionately and she clung to Algitha gratefully. ‘‘Tis a wonderful experience,’ she agreed quickly. ‘But is it quite, um, well you know… is it normal?’
Algitha gave a little giggle. ‘Much more common than you would think. Many of my ladies were glad to spend time with me in private so I could ease the longing between their thighs. ‘Tis the most natural thing in the world.’
Rowena was still a little uneasy about her new experience, so Algitha gave her a little shake. ‘Do you not touch yourself, my dear?’
Rowena blushed. ‘I have done.’
‘There now, what is the difference? We know what we enjoy, don’t we? So what can be better than two women sharing their pleasure?’
It sounded sensible, and Rowena lay in her handmaiden’s arms feeling more happy and relaxed than she had in a long time.
Before she left, Algitha gave her a bright smile. ‘We must do this again soon. It’s good to see the roses blooming in your wan cheeks.’
Rowena nodded. ‘Yes, and it will be our secret.’
Algitha kissed her cheek. ‘Our most sacred secret, my lady.’
Rowena liked the idea. She had a secret. No matter what Sigurd did to her she would find succour and pleasure in Algitha’s arms. She hoped he wouldn’t notice her sudden glow, for she could hardly tell him her maidservant had been in her bed – though it would be great fun to see his face. She dissolved into giggles.
Feeling much better she decided it was time she explored her new home, for she had to grudgingly admit it was just that now.
She walked into the fire-hall with burgeoning curiosity. Dour faces met her shy smile. Several ladies were sat or stood around a hearth, spinning. In the burh they’d had a weaving shed, where thralls spun the wool and wove it into cloth. She looked around in interest, only slightly dispirited by her lack of welcome.
The walls of the hall were panelled with wood and intricately carved, as were the roof posts and doorposts. The longer walls curved inwards towards the gable ends. The ladies were sat on silk cushions that adorned the benches around the walls. Beautiful wall hangings added warmth, and weaponry was hung at intervals.
No one made a move to speak or make themselves known to her, until an older lady, who had been deeply absorbed in her spinning, seemed to notice her for the first time. She gave Rowena a warm smile and Rowena walked over to her.
‘You seem very busy,’ she said pleasantly.
The woman shook her head and shrugged her shoulders, and Rowena realised she was trying to explain that she was unable to understand what she was saying.
The women soon resumed a noisy chatter, and from their pointed glances Rowena was certain most of the conversation was cantered upon her. She knew they would soon tire of the subject however, and kept herself occupied by studying her surroundings.
Although she had the grace not to stare at the Norse, she did notice that like her they wore more than one layer of clothing. All wore beads, some coloured glass, some gold or silver. They were adorned with many rings, bracelets and armbands. And whereas she wore but one brooch, the Norse wore one on either side of their chest and a different shaped one between. From the right hand brooch there hung an unwieldy assortment of objects: keys, knives, combs, scissors and needles.
She wondered if any of the beautiful younger ones had slept with her husband. She doubted that the chieftain would be refused anything. She began to study the women more closely, and decided there were one or two he wouldn’t be able to resist. She was curious as to whether he’d beaten any of them; he liked having a woman at his mercy.
She also wondered how many of them had been satisfied by Algitha’s clever fingers. There was an extremely curvaceous young woman in the group with a very pretty face, who it seemed to her had the look of sensuality about her. She watched her walking up and down with her spinning, as she noticed many of them did, by holding the distaff in the crook of the left arm, while the spindle, weighted at one end by a disk of stone, was set spinning in the right hand and sank slowly to the floor, drawing the wool out to a thread.
Yes, she thought, of all the ladies she would pick this one out as having a strong libido. Her hips swayed sexily and her breasts jiggled fetchingly. The picture of her with her ample bottom perched over Sigurd’s lap, while he delivered one stinging slap after another, came into her mind. She guessed by the colour of her hair that a fair thatch would hide her sex and that in her cleft her clitoris would be pouting with desire.
She would shed a few fie tears when he slapped her, smiling secretly between each slap as the pain turned to stunning pleasure. Her sex would be weeping for his thick member to burrow inside, and when it did she would scream and cling to him as though her life depended upon it.
The girl gave Rowena a knowing smile, and she blushed; it was almost as if she were able to read her mind. Or was Algitha pleasuring her too? If so, mayhap it was a smile of complicity.
Rowena was quite able to imagine the lovely girl spread wide on her bed, while Algitha stuck her experienced tongue into her channel, and played with her nipples. She wondered what colour her nipples were, and whether she liked them flicked or sucked, or maybe both in quick succession.
Rowena began to fan herself; her sensual musings were beginning to make her quite hot. She knew if she didn’t stop her train of thought directly she would be driven to look for Algitha and indulge in some more girly fun.
She was on the verge of doing just that when she wisely vetoed her decision. Everyone would find it peculiar if she retired to her bedchamber at this time of the day.
She was feeling quite sorry for herself when another lady entered the fire-hall. Her friends met her with enthusiasm. Rowena expected her to sit with them, but she moved towards her instead. She was dignified and very attractive, in a long linen kirtle topped by a fine shawl. Like her sisters she wore lots of jewellery, though hers, Rowena noticed, was all made of gold and precious stones.
She sat beside her. ‘I expect you are finding your first day very strange,’ she remarked kindly.
Rowena sighed with relief. ‘You speak English.’
‘My husband taught me,’ she said graciously. ‘And I often converse with the thralls who are of your land. I find it relatively easy. Our languages are quite similar, you know.’
‘I am glad you’re here,’ Rowena admitted. ‘I was beginning to feel a little lonely.’
The woman pushed a strand of fair hair behind her ears, where it was gathered into a kn
ot at the nape of her neck before flowing down her back. ‘It is naughty of Sigurd to leave you like this. But I’m afraid men think of the land first.’
Rowena shrugged. ‘I know little about Sigurd,’ she said quickly. ‘As you can imagine, we have not been married long.’
The woman started. ‘Forgive me, I have omitted to introduce myself.’ She smiled. ‘I am Gunnhild. And of course you are Rowena. Rig has told me all about you.’
Rowena paled. ‘Rig is your husband?’ Gunnhild affirmed that he was and Rowena wondered if he had told her about Cwendritha’s poison. She would not want to lose her only friend because of such a thing. Gunnhild continued to chatter on quite happily, so she thankfully decided he had kept that titbit to himself.
‘I expect everything is alien to you,’ Gunnhild remarked sympathetically.
Rowena agreed with her and glanced despondently at the other women still deeply immersed in their gossip. ‘It would help if I were able to converse with everyone.’
‘That’s no problem.’ Gunnhild’s eyes lit up. ‘I could teach you our tongue.’
Rowena brightened. ‘That would be wonderful!’ At least she would not feel so cut off if she were able to understand what was going on around her.
‘I suppose Sigurd’s told you we stay here in the shieling for the best months of the year.’
‘Sigurd has been a laggard and failed to enlighten me about his home,’ Rowena replied quietly, knowing better than to complain that her husband preferred to beat her instead. ‘Shieling, is that what this place is called?’
‘Aye, it’s the largest in Iceland. The home farm is much bigger of course. But then it has to be. He has his own army, as you know.’
Rowena nodded. ‘My father is a thane and our warriors farm the land too. They take it in turns to go out on campaign, all except for my father’s personal bodyguards.’
a Wicked Conquest Page 8