Templar Prize

by Deanna Ashford

  Stephen glanced at Richard, who lay on a damask-covered couch dressed only in his linen braes. He looked happy and relaxed enough, far more at ease than Stephen felt, but then the king had consumed a fair few goblets of wine. Armand had arranged this visit tonight and he lay on a couch next to Richard’s. The spotless white linen of Armand’s braes contrasted spectacularly with his smooth olive skin, flashing dark eyes and shoulder-length black wavy hair. Armand was very good-looking and could be immensely charming but first impressions counted and Stephen still didn’t like him overmuch. He felt there was something a little sinister and untrustworthy about the young man, but unfortunately Richard didn’t appear to see it and enjoyed his company.

  The brothel owner, a plump overdressed little man, appeared, bowed obsequiously at Richard and then clapped his hands. The pace of the music changed as two lean but muscular young men ran into the room. They wore only tiny blue loincloths and their skin was heavily oiled, making it gleam attractively in the lamplight. They began to perform an acrobatic routine, which included the most amazing somersaults, all in time to the strange, rather jarring music. Stephen was entranced by the display as he watched the two beautifully supple bodies moving lithely and in near-perfect unison. They were far more skilful than any tumblers he’d ever seen before, twisting and turning, their feats growing even more improbable by the moment, almost as if they had invisible cords pulling them smoothly in the air. With two final spectacular backward flips they finished their performance and bowed low before the three men. Richard nodded his appreciation as they stood there motionless and breathing heavily.

  Stephen expected them to leave but they remained where they were as the music became slower and more seductive. A young woman glided into the room, sensually swaying her slim hips. She was quite tall but delicately built with long slender limbs and jet-black hair, which hung in a dark cloud down her back, and all she wore was a tiny bolero covering her small breasts and filmy, sky-blue silk trousers. They were gathered at her ankles and cut so low that you could just see the top of the crack of her buttocks at the back and a thin line of inky-black pubic hair peeking over the jewelled belt girding her hips.

  As she danced closer to them, moving seductively in time to the music, Stephen saw that her dark eyes were outlined with kohl and her full moist lips were stained a shining scarlet. She danced, moving so expertly and in such a tantalising manner that, even though he’d so far remained immune to the eroticisms of this place, Stephen found himself becoming physically aroused. His cock started to stiffen of its own accord, and soon he was forced to lay a casual hand across his lap to cover the telltale growing bulge in his thin linen braes. He had never seen a dance so entrancing; the girl moved in a way that turned all his thoughts and feelings instinctively towards lustful sex.

  He found himself leaning forwards intently as she began to tempt the two young acrobats, circling them slowly, edging towards them to run her hands over their legs and chests, then brushing her fingers teasingly against their groins. Gracefully, she rubbed her body against theirs, twining her long limbs around one young man as she deftly jerked off his loincloth. His cock was already engorged and standing lewdly out from his groin. Immediately, the other man, who was a shade taller, pulled off his loincloth with a flourish and tossed it on the floor. Not surprisingly he too was aroused and the two men’s semi-erect organs bobbed erotically in the soft lamplight as they stepped towards the girl.

  Smiling enigmatically she glided teasingly away from them, moving her body sensually in time to the music, swinging her hips and undulating her belly as she led the two young men tantalisingly around the room. Every time they went to touch her, she smiled and darted just out of their reach, teasing and taunting them as she glided enticingly away time and time again.

  Within minutes Stephen felt the atmosphere in the room begin to change as the two naked men relentlessly pursued the young dancer. It was clearly all part of a display for their benefit but the two men’s apparent frustration at her ability to elude their reaching hands seemed amazingly real. A crackling tension filled the air as the play-acting suddenly changed from teasingly erotic to brutal and sexual.

  In perfect unison, much like their display, the two men lunged for her at once, grabbing hold of the girl, their fingers digging into her flesh as they pulled her roughly towards them. Her useless struggles didn’t look like play-acting to Stephen and appeared frighteningly real as one ripped her bodice, jerking it off to reveal her small breasts. Stephen tensed. Her nipples were large and erect, painted a glistening scarlet like her mouth.

  The taller man’s hands closed over het breasts as the other tugged the jewelled girdle down her slim hips, and she was left naked, standing in a pool of blue silk, with just an inky-black triangle of pubic hair covering her sex. Giving a sharp, surprisingly convincing scream of terror, she struggled to get away but the taller man grabbed a handful of her long dark hair and forced her to her knees, pulling her face towards his tumescent shaft. Curving his fingers around his cock, the man pumped it to make it grow even harder and then thrust it between her moist scarlet lips.

  By now Richard was breathing heavily and Stephen was also highly aroused by the inherent brutality of the moment. He told himself this was all just a display put on to entertain them, but the strange angry fire he usually only experienced in battle surged excitedly through his veins, making him forget everything but the overwhelming urge to ravish and conquer.

  He watched, totally enthralled, as the girl was forced to suck her aggressor’s cock, sliding her lips up and down the engorged organ. Stephen felt his own cock grow even harder. Before the man could climax, however, he pulled away from the girl, his shaft glistening enticingly in the lamplight, and his companion moved forwards to take his place. Grabbing her head, the shorter man eased her face towards his groin and obediently she placed her hands on his hips and began to caress his penis with her mouth and lips.

  Stephen was so enthralled by this vision of brutal lust that he didn’t even notice the other man walking to the side of the room to pick up a padded stool. Striding back to his companion, he grabbed hold of the girl and placed the stool under her stomach, then kicked it back so that the two small rounded globes of her buttocks were lifted provocatively into the air. Even so she somehow managed to keep the other man’s cock in her mouth. Stephen tensed with expectation as the taller man grabbed hold of her buttocks and positioned himself. With a hard jerk he penetrated her, while her mouth still worked on the other man’s shaft.

  Stephen stiffened as he felt his cock grow even harder and his balls tighten. Vaguely he heard Richard give a soft groan of desire, as he too was turned on by the highly charged, erotic brutality of the moment. Stephen had to fight the sudden urge to curve his hand around his own cock and jerk off as he watched the young man pumping wildly into the girl, while she greedily sucked on the other man’s organ, sliding her scarlet lips up and down the bulging shaft.

  This was beyond belief. Paying for a whore was one thing, but a sensual display such as this was an entirely different matter. Stephen had never thought of voyeurism as a form of entertainment and as far as he knew no brothel in Christendom had ever put on a show like this. It appeared that his companions were just as entranced as he was. Stephen watched, becoming more and more aroused by what he was witnessing, even though he knew it was all utterly contrived and just put on to excite and inflame the brothel’s clientele. Even so, he was totally immersed in the eroticism of the moment and the climax of the act came far too swiftly for him as, with an exultant gasp of pleasure, both of the men reached orgasm at the same time.

  ‘Sweet Jesus,’ he heard Richard say softly as the manner of the two suddenly changed. There was no violence in their movements now as they solicitously helped the girl to her feet and she stood there smiling provocatively at the king.

  ‘You chose well, Armand,’ Richard said gruffly. His face was flushed with excitement and there was a very visible bulge now under the thin fabric
of his braes.

  ‘Now you have to choose, Majesty,’ Armand said with a sly, rather knowing smile.

  Stephen frowned and looked with confusion at Armand; surely he couldn’t believe that the cruel rumours that had circulated about Richard were remotely true. Everyone at court knew they were put about by his enemies, purely to soil his reputation.

  Richard didn’t respond angrily. Fortunately for Armand, he was most probably a little too drunk by now to realise exactly what was intended by the remark ‘Come here, girl.’ Richard smiled and beckoned to her.

  The dancer’s cheeks were pink with exertion and she was clearly excited at being presented to Richard as she walked towards him. Stephen wondered if they performed this act often or had it just been arranged for his monarch’s benefit. Whatever, it appeared that the woman had enjoyed taking part in the display as much as the two young men.

  ‘Your Majesty,’ she said in a husky voice in heavily accented French as she went to sink to her knees. ‘My name is Leila.’

  Stephen was surprised; it was unusual for a Sicilian whore to speak their language, especially as she looked to have Saracen blood in her veins. ‘No.’ Richard patted the couch. ‘Come sit beside me, Leila.’

  ‘I’m honoured, great king.’ She sank down beside Richard and he twined an arm around her slim waist and pulled her close to him.

  Richard stared into the dancer’s dark eyes. ‘You are lovely,’ he growled, his large hand sliding downwards to caress her buttock cheeks, while his other hand stroked her tiny breasts.

  She smiled seductively as Richard slid his hand down to her groin and pressed his fingers against the dark curls guarding her sex. ‘My lord, I am here to give you pleasure in any way you would wish,’ the dancer purred, wriggling excitedly as Richard’s fingers slid into the crack of her buttock cheeks. ‘Any way at all,’ she added huskily.

  It appeared she was happy to offer even more unusual pleasures to Richard and Stephen knew that few whores in Christendom would even think of affording such strangely diverse delights. Tactfully, he tried to keep his gaze averted, but out of the corner of his eye he could see her boldly caressing Richard’s bare chest. Then she leant forwards and kissed him full on the lips. Richard gave a muffled groan of pleasure and wrapped his strong arms around his new exotic plaything.

  Stephen tried to keep from looking at Armand as well, but he was amazed when he at last glanced over at him because Armand appeared to be displaying far too much interest in one of the muscular young men. Was that the reason he had sensed such ambiguity in the young man? Stephen frowned as he saw the young acrobat move to squat beside Armand’s couch. Armand had removed his braes and his erect cock was on display to all who cared to look at it, and that made Stephen tense uneasily.

  Stephen glared rather disapprovingly at Armand, who did not seem overly concerned by his disapproval. But then Richard was now quite oblivious to their presence. The dancer had removed his braes and he lay on his back, his cock standing proudly out from his groin as. she caressed it. She then bent forwards to take it reverently between her scarlet lips. Stephen found the sight of all this highly arousing but he still jumped nervously when he felt a firm hand touch his groin.

  He tensed in concern as he realised that it was one of the male dancers. ‘No,’ he said sharply, pushing the man away as Armand watched, an insolent smile on his full lips.

  Stephen wasn’t entirely sure whether he should leave or stay but he needed the king’s permission to depart and Richard would not be happy if his sexual enjoyment was intruded upon at such an inopportune moment. He glanced around the room, trying not to look at Richard and doing his best to ignore the tantalising sounds of sex coming from the couch next to his, although it wasn’t proving easy.

  He had vowed not to partake in any of the eroticisms on offer this evening, but even so he was highly aroused and hearing Richard groaning with pleasure only a couple of feet away was making his lust grow even stronger. His cock was so hard now it was almost painful and he shifted uneasily on his couch. Perhaps he should slip quietly away and hope that the king didn’t realise that he had gone, let alone object to his leaving.

  The decision made, he went to sit up but gentle female hands pushed him back against the pillows. He found himself surrounded by three naked, full-bosomed slave girls. Soft lips were pressed to his, hands started to stroke and caress his body and a gentle mouth began to slowly engulf his aching penis, drawing him deep down into a pit of erotic bliss.

  4

  The timbers of the massive vessel creaked and groaned as it ploughed through the stormy waters of the Mediterranean. It sounded as if the entire ship might break apart at any moment, Edwina thought anxiously. The floor of the cabin tilted perilously, forcing her to cling desperately onto a wooden table, which was fortunately bolted down. Everything that was not fixed in place slid across the floor and slammed against the flimsy wooden interior walls of the cabin.

  Berengaria gave a scream of terror, which was almost drowned out by the crash of the waves and the noise of the wind, wailing like a banshee around the floundering vessel As the floor briefly righted itself, Edwina staggered gracelessly towards Berengaria and grabbed hold of the edge of the bunk on which the princess was huddled.

  ‘How do you feel, my lady?’

  ‘Terrible,’ Berengaria groaned.

  The cabin was dimly lit by a number of lamps, which swung wildly at every movement of the vessel, casting sinister shadow on the walls, and the place stank of stale vomit and the sweat of fear. Edwina was the only one of the four women in the cabin who had not been violently ill. Berengaria’s two other ladies-in-waiting, Agnes and Matilda, were crowded together on pallets in one corner laid low by the seasickness, which also plagued their royal mistress.

  Still clinging onto the edge of the bunk, Edwina smiled reassuringly at the ashen-faced princess whose skin had taken on a peculiar greyish tinge. Berengaria prided herself on her neatness and piety but she looked more like a slattern at present than a princess. Her nightgown was crumpled and stained, while her light-brown hair lay in tangled disarray around her plump shoulders. At least, she was no longer vomiting, most probably because her battered stomach must be totally empty by now, but she still gave pitiful, wrenching coughs every now and then.

  ‘You should at least drink some water, my lady.’

  ‘No.’ Berengaria weakly shook her head. ‘I cannot. I fear that God is punishing us, Edwina,’ she wailed in a distraught voice, her entire body trembling as she clutched with desperate fingers at the bejewelled rosary, which was one of Richard’s betrothal gifts to her.

  ‘We will survive,’ Edwina said with all the confidence she could muster. She placed a damp cloth on Berengaria’s warm clammy forehead. ‘The storm will soon be over.’

  ‘No, we will die. The sea will swallow us up,’ Berengaria whimpered, hunching back against her pillows in terror as the sound of the wind grew louder and even more threatening. The vessel rocked wildly as it continued to be buffeted by the enraged waters.

  Edwina sat down on the bunk next to the princess and placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. ‘This craft is large and designed to sail in the worst of weathers,’ she said, although to be honest she knew almost nothing about these ships except that they were of Byzantine design. ‘Dromons have sailed these waters for centuries and are said to be far safer than any other vessel.’

  ‘If they are the safest,’ Berengaria said tearfully as she let the rosary fall into her lap and reached out to cling onto Edwina’s other arm, ‘then why does it feel as if this ship is about to sink at any moment? This storm is so terrible. No doubt by now Richard’s galley has already foundered and I will have lost my future husband.’

  Edwina sighed. ‘Not so, Princess. The king will come through this unscathed and so will we. God will protect us, we are on a holy quest,’ she said, certain that surrendering to fear was not the answer.

  ‘Then why do we have to endure this at all?’ Berengaria compl
ained weakly.

  ‘Perhaps God is testing our resolve?’ Edwina paused and listened intently, certain that the noise of the storm was abating just a little. The ship was still battling through stormy seas but the movements of the vessel were becoming slightly less violent. ‘See, it is improving, is it not?’

  ‘You think so?’

  ‘I do,’ Edwina replied.

  ‘Then it is possible that God, in his eternal wisdom, has spared us.’ Berengaria picked up her rosary again and began to mumble a prayer of thanks.

  ‘I think perhaps I should discover the Whereabouts of your maids.’ Edwina was desperate to get out of this foul-smelling cabin for a moment. Thankfully, she had not suffered from seasickness but the stuffy interior and the terrible smells were now making even her stomach feel a little queasy. Also she felt that she should try to locate the princess’s maidservants and make sure they were safe. The two young women had never put in an appearance, despite that fact that she had sent for them to help care for Berengaria. She could only presume that they were huddled in terror somewhere in the bowels of the ship.

  ‘Do not be long,’ Berengaria said in a weak voice. ‘I cannot cope without you, Edwina. You are my strength in this adversity.’

  ‘I promise that I will return in a few moments.’ Removing her arm from Berengaria, Edwina stood up and, doing her best to keep her footing on the pitching floor, she staggered towards the door of the cabin. Opening it, she stepped into the cooler, salt-laden air of the dimly lit corridor.

  Pulling the door shut behind her, Edwina took a deep unsteady breath to cleanse her lungs. Bracing herself against one of the walls to stop herself being flung about too much, she thought of Stephen, wishing that he was here with her, needing to feel the strength of his arms around her. She would not even allow herself to consider that he might not have survived this appalling storm.