The Viscount Visits
by Uther Pendragon
anon584c@nyx.net
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All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
The Viscount Visits
by Uther Pendragon
anon584c@nyx.net
Abigail saw the nobles rarely and at a distance. But she,
like all the folk of the village of Montant, heard rumors and
gossip. While Sir Robert had still been alive, Sir Karl had been
reputed a merry young man. He had become castellan while
mourning his brother, and you could expect no merriment at such a
time. After his wedding, though, his countenance was said to be
as merry as ever. His father, Viscount Denis, on the other hand,
was reputed to be an old curmudgeon.
She had seen Sir Robert and Sir Karl, of course, riding by. Castle Clavius was within sight of the cottage in which she lived. She had been too young, however, to attend the gathering in the castle's middle bailey the last time that Viscount Denis had visited.
Village connections to the viscount who was their overlord were indirect. Village men did service in Castle Clavius and drove animals or rode carts there to supply the food needs. Some castle folk visited the village regularly; some visited Castle Dan; a few did both. One of the connections was the reeve. Her family saw even more of him than most villagers, since it had more members than her father's land -- even though it was a whole manse -- could support. Besides a mere toddler, she had three brothers. Those were all old enough for farm work. Adam, George, and Nathan served the lord's land more often for a neighbor's duty than for their father's. Then, too, there were other tasks for hired labor. And the reeve was involved in all of them which involved the lord's land.
Advent was a season of fasting, but it was not one of their seasons of want. It was soon enough after the harvest and there were still many turnips drying overhead. The reeve pointed this out to her father when he visited a little before Christmas. "Children are a blessing, and the number thou hast surviving is a blessing indeed. But four sons will not divide this land. And thou needest dowries as well."
"Dost thou think I have not considered this?" asked her father. "The Good Lord has provided the blessings of children; He must provide the means of supporting them."
"The Good Lord may have provided those who can provide the means of providing dowries. Would you children find somewhere else to warm yourselves?" So she and her brothers and sisters left the cottage, even Henrik. Naomi stayed with her mother, but she had learned no words as yet.
When she returned, she found that she would be going to the castle as serving maid. It was not all that far away, but her mother had been crying.
She did not set out at once, though. It was Saturday, more than a week later, when she bundled up her few goods and walked with them to the castle. Adam walked along with her. They passed the first gatehouse unquestioned, but they were stopped at another gatehouse which was flush with the wall and faced the road which ran through the castle. "She was told to come here," Adam said. "She is going to be a maidservant."
"Nothing was said to me," the guard answered. "Wait here." Then he shouted, "Sir Stephen to the mid-bailey gate if he pleases." The shout was repeated and repeated farther away.
When the small door finally opened, a knight was facing them. He raised his eyebrows. Adam sketched a bow while she curtsied. "Abigail, my lord. I was told to come here."
"Of course. Come in. And this is?"
"Adam, my lord," Adam said. "I am her brother."
"Well, I thank thee for delivering her. Thou mayest go in peace." The seneschal walked with her across the courtyard, across another bridge and through another gatehouse, although this gate was wide open. It would have allowed several mounted knights passage abreast. He stopped at the gatehouse to let the guard know she would be part of the castle henceforth. "Abigail," he said, "she shall clean the castellan's chamber."
"Yes, my lord."
In the inner courtyard, he pointed out the great hall and the keep. The last was entered only by an outside wooden stairway. "And this is the residence," he said finally. "Some will call it the old great hall, and so it is. My lord's chamber is up this stairway." When he got to the landing, he knocked at an open door. "Abigail, my lady."
Lady Elizabeth was quite pregnant. Abigail had heard all about that, of course. "Helga," she said, "let her know her duties and the names of the others."
Helga was a woman who looked almost as old as Abigail's grandmother. She told Abigail of the names and duties of the other maids. One of them, Tamar, was carrying a small baby. "The viscount is coming to visit," explained Helga. "This chamber is for the use of the lord of the castle, or -- occasionally -- a guesting superior. Viscount Denis really holds this castle. Sir Karl is his father's castellan. So the viscount will sleep here, and we are making another chamber ready for Sir Karl and my lady. Viscount Denis will not arrive until Monday, but there is much to do." As one unused to the order of lady's clothes, Abigail's task was simply to carry armloads of them upstairs from one chamber to the other. The upper chamber was not much larger than her family's cottage, making it about half the size of the lord's chamber.
The second seating at dinner was a welcome respite from all those stairs. Advent fast or no, the meal was richer than Abigail's family had on many feast days. The plentiful food included salt fish. When they had moved all the clothes Lady Elizabeth didn't need, they started on Sir Karl's clothing. The squires handled the armor, but Abigail carried armfuls of linen clothing upstairs. Perhaps it was the heavy dinner; perhaps it was all the turning involved in climbing the stairs. For whatever reason, Abigail's head was spinning when she reached the new room. Roger, the younger of Sir Karl's squires, told her to hold the clothes until he had put them away.
"I could set them down on the bed, my lord."
"And so thou couldst. But I bade thee hold them. And I am nobody's lord."
When he had folded the last shirt, he asked, "Hast thou fully recovered thy breath?"
"Yes, my.... Yes, Roger."
"Then thou mayest go down. And if Helga gives thee another load, pause on the way."
"I slowed down on the last journey."
"Slowing down gives little ease on stairs. If Helga asks why thou tookest so long, tell her that Roger delayed thy return." But Helga asked nothing.
They had fish for supper as well, and a traveling troubadour sang for them afterwards. The benches being occupied by her seniors, Abigail sat on the floor. She was stiff when she arose and limped up the stairs to the chamber. She had no duties there. There were more than enough maids to help Lady Elizabeth off with her clothes and hang them away. Sir Karl was served by his two squires. Then Abigail had a share of a straw-filled pallet on the floor.
Sir Karl had a voice that carried. This was probably useful when he commanded on the battlefield, but Abigail could hear the endearments he addressed to his wife in their bed. Their movements, however, made no sound. After a quite audible gasp, Sir Karl's comments became softer. Soon they ceased and Abigail drifted to sleep. She noted that the nobility talk even during sex. She knew that Lady Elizabeth's made responses, even if they had been too low for Abigail to hear the words. Her parents kept absolute verbal silence, although their motions on a straw- stuffed mattress made more sound.
Mass that morning was longer than she was used to. Perhaps because it was Sunday, perhaps a castle custom. It was possible that it merely seemed longer because her legs still felt uncomfortable. Breakfast was bread and wine, instead of the porridge and beer to which she was accustomed.
After breakfast, most of the great hall was given over to the chaplain and a group of boys. Apparently, the boys -- mere children of servitors, from their clothes -- were learning their letters. The inner bailey being smitten by a cold and nasty wind, all the maids Abigail had met gathered again in the chamber. Sir Karl and Lady Elizabeth were elsewhere. They had not stored away the pallets, and they lay on them again. Tamar allowed Abigail to hold her baby, Michael. They passed the time until dinner with singing. Abigail's family did no work on farmland or garden on Sunday, but she was used to tending her distaff on Sunday. None of that seemed to be done in the castle.
There were several pieces of pork in the stew she ate at dinner. "Meat," said Jesse, her dinner companion. "I was getting a little tired of fish." She marveled. Jesse was a groom. (The work in the stables, like the work in the kitchens, continued even on Sunday.) She could not imagine a commoner like herself getting tired of fish. For that matter, she had gone hungry often enough to even relish turnips.
After dinner, Helga led her to the keep. A huge tub filled half the main hall of the keep. Male servitors had filled it with hot water. More water was in cauldrons over the fire in the huge fireplace. The common women waited while the men left the keep. After they had barred the door, Helga urged her to strip and get in the tub with her and a few others. The reason for Helga's going first was obvious; she was one of the senior women there. It would have been more fitting for Abigail to have held back, but Helga insisted. And none of the other women seemed to object. The hot water eased the soreness in her legs.
After she and Helga had scrubbed each other and dried each other off, Helga gave her a new dress to wear. "A new dress is the usual Christmas present from the castellan. He thought it would be more appropriate to give it to thee early." It was a fine dress, although -- being linen -- it was a little inappropriate for this season. Still, she had spent almost no time outside since coming to the castle. Then, too, they seemed to keep any number of fires burning continually.
When Sir Karl returned to his chamber after supper, she curtsied and thanked him for the dress. She was getting better at curtsying.
"Thou art quite welcome," Sir Karl said.
"Wear that dress tomorrow," Lady Elizabeth said.
Tomorrow? Now that she had two dresses that fit, she wanted to save this one for best. "Yes, my lady."
After breakfast the next day, they finished moving all the last materials to the new chamber. She gathered her things when the possessions of the nobles were in place. She now had a second dress as well as a second set of underpants and a cloak. "Where should I put these?" she asked Helga.
"Leave them here," she answered. "Thou wilt sleep here."
She helped Helga make the bed anew.
Dinner was overdue when a trumpet blast from the top of the keep drew everyone's attention. The guard up there lowered Sir Karl's standard. Everyone watched until a new standard was raised. Viscount Denis had entered Castle Clavius. "Prepare the baths," Lady Elizabeth said as she and the other nobles walked towards the middle bailey.
There already were two baths in the chamber, and cauldrons boiling on the fire. They filled the baths. When the nobles entered the chamber, it was easy to see which one was Viscount Denis. Not only was he more richly dressed than his companions, he was a generation older. Lady Esther, Sir Stephen's wife, helped Lady Elizabeth bathe the viscount. He kept insisting that Lady Elizabeth scrub his neck more thoroughly while Lady Esther took care of the rest of his body. "I can bend, my lord," Lady Elizabeth finally said.
"Bear me a grandson," the viscount replied, "and I shall count thee as having rendered perfect service."
The four knights who had accompanied him had only their feet and legs bathed. Young Sarah was the only noble who served them. Most of the actual work in that tub was done by the maids, including Abigail.
When the viscount and his knights were bathed and dressed in guest robes, they went to dinner. By the time the second seating was called, Abigail felt hungry indeed. She had been in the castle only two days, but she had already become used to regular meals. When she finally had dinner, though, it was worth the wait. Still Advent, still meatless, the dishes were tastier than she'd ever eaten in her life. She drank hot mulled wine that warmed her belly.
After dinner, the nobles returned to the high table to pass judgment. The watches were kept, and some others left for necessary work; but most of the castle folk crowded in. There were many peasants there as well. She saw the reeve and others whom she recognized from her village of Montant. From the cases being heard, some folk came from St. Anne's and others from even farther away. Sir Stephen presented most of the cases, and then each side would argue their position. The first few cases were crimes. The viscount ordered two men hanged, and several others beaten.
Sometimes, confusingly, there would be more than two sides. On some cases, knights would offer opinions; sometimes, Viscount Denis would consult sotto-voce with Sir Karl.
Then Sir Karl left his seat behind the high table and stood in the center facing the Viscount. "Tamar," he called. Tamar came forward carrying Michael. "My lord," he said in a carrying voice, "I present Tamar, whom I accepted for thee as part of the relief when Sir Paul succeeded his father, Sir Hugh, in holding Manoir de la Rive."
"Thou didst well," said the viscount.
"Tamar is holding her baby, Michael by name. Is it thy will to free him? He is, after all, the son of Baron Hugh."
"That is not well thought," said the Viscount. "My cow, my calf."
Tamar, looking dejected, returned to the side. Sir Karl walked behind the high table while Sir Stephen presented the next case. Abigail saw several of her fellow servants hug Tamar to comfort her. Viscount Denis was within his rights, but he was a colder man than his son. Abigail thought again of how he had given her the second dress early.
Many peasants left after their cases were heard, and Tamar left as soon as her tears were dried. But Abigail, having nothing to do, remained in the great hall through many more cases. She returned to the upper chamber where everyone was making a fuss over Tamar and Michael. The second seating at supper was again a feast of tastes. Afterwards, there were more jongleurs and dancers. These included a woman who walked, indeed danced, on her hands.
Helga escorted her to the chamber where Viscount Denis was being undressed by his squires. The viscount gestured her to the back of the room. When his squires left, he barred the door before going to bed. She did not know what to do; there seemed to be no pallet to lie on. And her legs, marvelously relaxed by the hot bath the day before, were now almost as sore as they had been. She crept over to a bench and sat quietly.
"Come here, girl," the viscount said. His voice sounded angry. "Thy name?" when she was standing beside the bed.
"Abigail, my lord."
"Remove thy clothing, Abigail." She blushed as she did so, but being seen naked was much less fearsome than provoking the viscount's wrath. He drew back the sheet and blanket when she was bare. "Climb in." It was a climb, too. The bed was much higher than her parents' let alone the pallet she shared with other maids. It was soft, too. She felt herself sinking into all the feathers. The viscount was lying to her left.
"Art thou fearful?" he asked. "Do not be." The viscount had sentenced men to hang, although she feared that she must miss that entertainment while employed in the castle. He had spoken of friendly Tamar as a cow and little cuddly Michael as a calf. He was alone with her in a locked room, alone in a bed with her. And she should not be fearful?
"No, my lord."
"That is good." He kissed her on the forehead. He moved his hand down her torso to her legs. "Spread thy legs." When she did so, he fingered her briefly in the most private spot between her legs. Whatever he had said, she tensed at that. Soon, though, his hand swept upward to her breast. "I shall proceed slowly."
She had spoken to him twice, she was alone in the room with him with the door locked; they were naked in bed together; his hand had gone where no other person's had gone and was now resting on her breast. This was proceeding slowly? "Please proceed slowly, my lord."
"Pain delayed is pain none the less. The question is whether thou gainest pleasure."
The question was less her pleasure than her survival. But struggling against her overlord would be treason, which would mean condemnation to death if she lived long enough to stand trial. And living that long if she were to resist was unlikely; a swordsman, although old, he was more than a match for her physically. So she lay back and let him have his way.
Truth to tell, his way seemed not unpleasant. He patted and rubbed her breast until there was a tingling sensation there. Then he sucked on the nipple. By the time he moved his mouth to the other nipple, she was feeling quite excited. His hand rubbed slowly down her belly to her mound. This time it was welcome rather than intrusive. When his hand ventured between her legs again, he did not need to tell her to part them. The strokes on the inside of her left thigh were exciting, even pleasant.
When his finger returned to her most private regions, it was stroking her softly rather than poking. "Oh," she said, surprised for all that. He changed breasts once again, and all the sensations excited her strangely. His touches had warmed her belly more than the mulled wine had. She clasped her legs around his hand and froze. What would he do to her for that resistance? But, when he made not the slightest comment, she relaxed. The relaxation allowed his hand easier access, and he stroked her more slowly. The warmth in her belly was turning into fire.
"Oh," she said as the fire seared her. Her hips, without the slightest will on her part, pressed upward. Her heels and shoulders felt as if they alone were touching the bed. Then the fire flared within her, flared again and again.
When she again knew where she was, the viscount was no longer touching her with either mouth or hand. Her legs ached abominably. She was gasping as though she had run a race, but -- from the joyous feeling in her heart -- she must have won.
"Art thou recovered?" the viscount asked after some time.
"My lord."
"Here." He took her hand and placed it around his cock. It felt much firmer than it had looked in his bath. Within her hand, it grew firmer still. "Spread thy legs further." He moved over her until he was kneeling between her legs. He spread her nether lips and lodged his cock between them. She knew what intrusion was coming next and braced for it. But he moved his cock up and down between her lips. Then he changed his position so that he was lying over her with his weight on his elbows and his hands on her ears. He played with her earlobes for a moment, finally holding each lobe bent double between his fingers. He bent forward to kiss her mouth. This brought his cock even further between her lips, but the pressure wasn't painful.
He moved his head back. "Look in my eyes," he said.
"My lord." That was quite unlike how a modest peasant girl should look at her liege lord, but disobeying would be worse. The candle outside the bed curtains gave very little light, but it was enough to see his face.
Staring straight into her eyes, he pinched both earlobes. "Ow," she cried, surprised. When she could think of anything else, there was another pain between her legs, and his cock was half way into her.
"Thou art no longer a maiden," he said. Then he moved into her more fully. He shifted his position so that one hand covered her right breast. The other took her left hand and placed it over his rump. "Put thy other hand similarly," he said. He moved his other hand to her left breast. She tentatively placed her right hand on the cheek of his rump. "Grip me there," he said as he began moving.
The motion evoked several twinges down where he was moving. But it still was not so sore as her ears. The muscles flexing in her hands drew her attention and she gripped them more tightly. The viscount moved more rapidly above her and deeper within her. Suddenly, he thrust against her more firmly still. The muscles under her hands were hard as rock, and he raised his upper body away from hers. "Unh," he groaned.
Then he dropped on top of her. As he lay there limp and gasping, he came out of her down below. She felt something dripping down her rump. If that were her blood, the wound was worse than it felt. But, since it was not pulsing out, it would soon clot; unless God sent infection, it would not be fatal. Moving the viscount from where he seemed to have fallen asleep lying on her was quite likely to be fatal. She lay there.
Some time afterwards, he moved off. She fell asleep with one of his arms about her.
The End The Viscount Visits Uther Pendragon anon584c@nyx.net 2004/10/26 The depiction of the Danclaven coat of arms which appears above the title of this story was produced by Gary Jordan and the copyright belongs to him. For another story set in the same period, see: A Time to Gather up Stones For a quite different story of a woman's first sexual experience set in a quite different period see: "Honey Bee" This story is indexed in: Mf: Older Men and Younger Women The index to almost all my stories is: Index to Uther Pendragon's website