by Tasha Bell
“Release Lady Viviana,” he said. “Send her to the Capital for a proper trial. She knew nothing about this until I came back, and she didn’t want a revolution, just to look after her workers.”
Viviana looked from Captain Bates to the simpering Sir Robert before speaking. “I do want a revolution,” she said coldly. “I want to see the people of this valley rise up and take what’s theirs, I want to see the ploughmen and hedge-layers in this banqueting hall drinking your wines Sir Robert, and Captain Bates I want to see you thrown down the latrines to drown like the piece of shit you are. I want to see this castle and Loxley Hall and all the other noble houses burned to the ground by dragon fire, I want to see shepherds and cowmen dancing in King John’s bedchamber.” As she stopped talking Bates struck her hard across the face, a stinging blow that left her ears ringing.
“I tell you what I plan to do Lady Viviana,” he said. “I’m going to start with you friend over there,” he waved towards Christian. “First I’m going to take out his nails, slowly, then his teeth, then his eyes,” he paused never breaking his gaze from Viviana’s. “Then I’m going to take my sharpest knife and I’m going to cut him, just very gently on his arm, and then I’m going to cut him on his leg and on his chest, I’m going to cut him a thousand times until he doesn’t even have any skin left, and I’m going to make you watch,” Christian stared unflinchingly ahead as Bates spoke. “And then, while you watch him bleed to death I’m going to call in Matt and his sons, and all my soldiers who’ve always wanted to have a go on a highborn bitch, and I’m going to let them do what they want with you. Then when they’re finished, I’m going to start pulling out your nails.”
Christian gave a roar and strained against his ropes, Viviana could see the muscles and tendons standing out on his neck as he strained to reach Bates. “You kill me however you like,” he shouted. “But you’re supposed to be a noble, leave Viviana be.” She was amazed at the fervour he showed to protect her, ever since he had returned he seemed to have nothing but contempt for her, but here in the banqueting hall it seemed like he would give his life for her.
Bates laughed. “You know that’s not how I work Christian.” He said. “Sir Robert could you please bring me my pliers, they’re on the table.”
As Captain Bates advanced with the pliers Viviana could hear Sir Robert retching, he might have been a vicious, unthinking drunk, but he didn’t have the stomach for this level of cruelty. Christian was staring directly ahead, his damaged arm hanging limply by his side. Viviana could not bear to watch, to see the strong, determined man cut to pieces before her eyes, it was more than she could take. For the first time since the men had marched back in the village all those months ago she began to cry.
Captain Bates took Christian’s hand and opened the mouth of his pliers, clamping them around the nail of his little finger, when the great door to the banqueting hall flew open. There stood Matt Tindall, his face shining red with agitation and panic.
“The villagers are coming!” He said.
***
Alexandra strode along the road to Brookmere Castle her hair blowing behind her in the breeze, she held a heavy sword in both hands. How odd it felt, this morning she had never carried a blade and now she was bearing one into battle. To her left walked Kit, an axe gripped tight and a long ladder over his shoulder, to her right was Harper, still bloodied but striding forward with death in his eyes. Behind her, trailing back for a quarter of a mile, walked the people of the Vale, they had left their fields - abandoning the orchards and the watermills - and flocked to Alexandra’s call. Carrying whatever weapons they could find or improvise from the barns and haylofts of Amvale they marched in silence towards the flickering lights of the castle. In the half light of dusk their torches threw wild shadows over their faces.
One hundred yards from the Castle’s portcullised gate Alexandra turned round to face the people, most of whom she had known her whole life, they were her customers in the tavern and her neighbours in the square. She knew them all as gentle country-folk, was used to hearing them complain about a late frost or a wet winter, but here, under the darkening sky and illuminated by the flames, they looked as powerful as any army. Some carried pitchforks and long handled scythes. The men who had returned from the wars wore a raggedy collection of weapons and armour. Some marched forwards carrying only heavy sticks and axe handles. Behind the men at the front people held long ladders, previously used in the orchards to pick the highest apples but now strapped together to create something capable of scaling a castle’s walls. Alexandra wondered if any of them would see the dawn.
She watched as her brother stepped forwards to address the villagers, he slowly looked over the crowd before speaking: “Anyone who does not want to be a part of this can go now with their heads held high,” he said. “I know you have families to support and land to tend, if you leave now you go with my blessing.” In the silent crowd no one moved. “Some of us will die tonight,” he continued. “But those who do will have died freemen. I welcome death if it brings us one day closer to living like equals. Tonight you fight not only for your freedom, but for the freedom of every single person in Amvale and beyond. Fight for every time a highborn has wronged you, for every tax King John has levied to pay for his pointless wars.” At this a cheer went up among the crowd. “Fight for your village, for the Vale and for each other. Tomorrow we wake freemen!”
He turned to face the wall. Alexandra could feel the resolve leaving the people of the village. The battlements were too high, too well defended. It was a suicidal mission. Kit looked back at the people, raised his axe and with a bloodthirsty cry began towards the castle. To Alexandra’s horror no one but Harper went with him, the villagers stayed uncertainly where they were while her brother and Harper marched towards a lonely and inevitable deaths. She was about to follow them when she spotted something circling high above the castle.
“Look,” She cried. “The dragons have returned to the Vale. Only this time they fight not for the lords but for the people.” There was a disbelieving murmur from the people, replaced by an exited shouts as they realised that it really was a dragon. Alexandra prayed for a sign, anything that would tell the people that the dragon, a baby though it was, was with them. Vultonis swooped low over the castle, and for the first time in his life opened his mouth to spew out a jet of boiling liquid flame. Sir Robert’s flag with the boar rampant was engulfed in a fire ball, the roof tiles bursting into flame below it. Alexandra raised her sword high. “For the Vale.” She shouted, and was relieved to hear it bellowed back as the people charged the castle.
As Alexandra sprinted for the walls she began to hear the crossbow bolts whistle around them. Ahead she saw her brother, desperate to make amends for what she knew he saw as his mistake of trusting Miranda, running through what looked like a hailstorm of arrows. Some embedded themselves in the ladder he carried, others thudded into the ground by his fast moving feet, but he made it to just below the castle walls and managed to plant one end of the ladder in the ground, momentum carrying the other end up high against the castle’s defences, and as other ladders sprung up around his, he began to climb.
In front of her Harper ran to scale the walls and Alexandra followed him up the ladder, marvelling that he could move at all with the amount of blood that caked his shirty. On top of the battlements chaos reigned. Kit, the first man up, was swinging his axe wildly, surrounded by Sir Robert’s soldiers. She saw Harper pick a man up bodily and throw him screaming into the courtyard below. The soldiers of Castle Brookmere were being slowly pushed back under the assault of the furious country-men.
The men of Amvale did not know how to parry or fence, they wore no armour and thrust only with pitchforks and clubs, but their numbers and rage were overwhelming. One of the soldiers turned and ran towards the stairs. For a moment it looked like their line would break, but the fleeing guard was met by Captain Bates and Matt Tindall coming up the steps. Bates thrust a sword through his own man’s neck and shouted “
Anyone runs and I kill them myself.” before charging into the fray.
Captain Bates attacked with devastating accuracy, his whirling blade cutting through villagers as if they were made of straw. Alexandra watched in horror as he sliced through the brave young Hugh, Lady Viviana’s favourite page, and stepped over his body towards where Kit and Harper were struggling with a trio of soldiers. She could see those around her were beginning to falter, sensing a change in the momentum of the fight. She held her sword above her head and ran forward, desperately trying to reach Captain Bates. Her way was blocked by one of Matt Tindall’s sons and she brought her blade down on him as hard as she could, he fell screaming at her feet. She felt the men behind her surge forward, pushing captain Bates back towards the stairs, another of Matt’s sons fell, this time to Kit’s axe, and soon only Captain Bates and Matt himself remained of the defending troops.
They stood together at the top of the stairs, their fellow defenders might all have been dead but they held firm, shoulder-to-shoulder, swords held out towards the villagers. For a moment no one dared approach them, they had seen the damage Bates’ blade could inflict. Captain Bates looked at the approaching crowd of peasants, and the bristling field of weapons they carried. “Well Matt,” he said calmly. “I think it’s time.” And stepping back he shoved his companion hard into country-men. As the villagers tore into Matt Tindall Alexandra saw Captain Bates run down the stairs, disappearing through a door into the castle.
Chapter Eleven
“More wine Sir Robert!” Shouted Harper, banging his tankard down on the ornate banqueting table. As Sir Robert Herriot shuffled over to refill the huge man’s glass his face looked so forlorn and worried that Alexandra could not help but burst out laughing. It had been a long night, but after the dead had been counted and the wounded treated the villagers had broken down the door to the wine cellar and found the castles highborn owner cowering in the corner, a bottle clutched in his hand.
Alexandra blearily looked around the room, illuminated by the first rays of dawn. Some men were still drinking and singing songs of victory. Others were passed out under the tables and on the long benches. She saw her brother’s feet sticking out from under a torn down drape, and felt her own head nodding from tiredness. It had been the longest two days of her life, she had killed a man and seen men killed. She had marched across the mountains and raised an army, not bad for an innkeeper’s daughter she thought as she drifted into sleep.
***
Upstairs, in a turret high in the castle, Christian gazed out of the window watching the sun creep over The Vale “well It’s finally ours” he said “this dawn for the first time in 2000 years the Vale belongs to the people.”
Viviana said nothing, but crept up behind him, and being careful to avoid his damaged arm, pushed him down onto the bed. She stood over him for a moment, admiring the definition in his muscles, the way they stretched and rippled when he breathed, and bent to kiss his lips. She felt Christian’s mouth respond and when she pulled her head back she saw that he was smiling. They had made use of Sir Roberts’s most luxurious chambers to bathe and Cristian smelled deliciously of the Applewood oil they had infused his wash tub and softened his skin. A roaring fire burnt, suffusing the chamber with a rich orange glow.
“Are you going to kill me next?” She asked him playfully.
He looked at her seriously for a moment and then shot his good arm out to catch her by the front of her gown. “Yes,” he whispered. “But I’ve got something else to do to you first.”
Viviana laughed and tried to break free from his grasp, but even with one limb he was easily able to keep her pinned to his chest. He kissed her hard on the lips. She felt the heat between her thighs as his lips pressed to hers. Outside she could hear the steady flap of leathery wings as Vultonis circled the high tower in which they lay, they had really done it, she thought as she carefully pulled open Christian’s borrowed silk tunic and began to kiss down his muscular torso. She moved he lips over the short patch of hair at the bottom of his abdomen and gripped his heavy shaft in her hand, marvelling at the way it thickened in her grip.
She bent her lips and gently kissed the fat tip, before sliding her lips slowly over the shining purple head, taking great pleasure in the way Christian arched his back and groaned as she took him into her warm wet mouth. With one hand she stroked his girth shaft, the other she cupped under his heavy orbs. Her tongue danced around his crown and he rewarded her with a low moan. She could feel the power coursing through his cock and felt that he was struggling to hold back. Finally he reached down and grasped her by the shoulder, pulling her up so that she straddled him.
She paused for a moment, the head of his rod ready to enter her, while she relished the moment. What would someone like Captain Bates make of this? A highborn lady about so impale herself on some commoners rock hard cock. She bit her lip slowly lowered herself, letting him fill her inch by delicious inch until their bodies were touching. Gently at first she began to rock herself forwards, allowing her nipples to graze against Christian’s chest as she rode him, delighting in the pleasures that were awoken deep inside her.
Christian raised his head from the bed and kissed her hard. His hand wrapped in her long hair. Despite his injury he began to thrust into her harder and harder. He let his hand slip down from her head, over her back, and gripped under her buttocks, flexing his muscles to dive her up and down. Viviana felt herself filling with pleasure, she pictured herself as a dragon, boiling over with a furious energy that was just waiting to be released. And then, like Vultonis pouring his flames over the castle, she was coming, flowing out over Christian. The tightening of her sheaf was obviously to much for Christian, and with a roar he began to pump his seed inside her, filling her deliciously with his hot essence.
He let his grip on her loosen and turned his head back towards window. “What next?” he said, his voice ragged from the exertion.
Viviana, sunk to his chest, desperately wishing there didn’t have to be a next step, that she could stay here safe and secure in the bed with the man she realised she had always loved, and make the outside world disappear. She stroked the dark hair away from his eyes and kissed him again, this time she felt no response. Christian was asleep.
“Next” she said softly “next we take the Capital.”
***
Out beyond the marshes a lonely figure paused, he was covered in mud and dried blood, yet still smelt faintly of rosewater and warm leather. He gazed at the black silhouette of the Castle against the brightening morning sky, before turning on his heel and beginning the long walk to Arden’s Capital.
The End
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Coming Soon
Dragon Wind
As King John throws all his troops into crushing the rebellion the borders of the realm are left open to the dark threats that live beyond them. Lucinda, the beautiful merchant’s daughter from the town of Glossop sees her father’s worst fears come true when she is captured by the ferocious Children of the Wind and their maniacal chief.
Meanwhile the peasants’ army under the command of Harper, Christian and Viviana set out on the long march to the capital, a march that will test the limits of all their friendship and end in the ultimate act of betrayal.
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About the Author
I studied history at one of the U.K’s top universities and made my career in historical research before transferring to writing hot stories. I live in London in small flat with lots and lots of red velvet.
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