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- Joined
- Apr 1, 2015
“ALICE!!!” The shriek of anger tore through the serenity of the convent, startling the male guests who had just entered into the convent garden and were waiting for the mother abbess. The six knights watched in bemusement at the sight of a teenage girl dashing through the garden. She was an imp of a thing, flaxen hair streaming behind her, pale blue eyes twinkling with devilish mischief. Her bare feet skid to a halt in front of the knights, and she returned their grins with a look of sheer astonishment.
“Oh! You are men!”
A muffled snort of laughter came from two of the knights as the girl boldly looked them up and down curiously.
“I haven’t seen men before, except the priests. You are awfully hairy.” Her tone indicated disapproval of their hairiness. “Sister Agatha’s father spent time in the east, and she said people there aren’t as hairy as here. Have you ever tried to shave off some of your hair?”
One of the knights coughed in embarrassment and opened his mouth to respond, but then a terrifying visage appeared from the bushes.
“ALICE!” The triumphant tone of the portly nun brought a laughing squeak from the girl, who promptly darted off. The knights watched in amused horror as the nun waddled after her at a semblance of a run. The nun’s normal sedate wimple was gone, and the woman’s close cropped hair was a blushing pink. The black habit had been bleached white and a poor attempt at dying it red made, resulting in the fabric being blotched pink like the face of a plague victim.
“ALICE YOU LITTLE DEVIL! COME BACK HERE!”
The convent garden soon was silent again, and the knights all made it a point not to look at each other lest they begin laughing. The name of Alice was a familiar one. How many other girls could the convent hold with that name, with the same round sweet face, with the same cornflower blue eyes and flaxen hair of the Duke’s dead second wife? No, that had to be the girl they had been sent to fetch back to the cold, gray stone walls of her father’s castle.
And fetched she was. The Mother Abbess could not seem to get rid of the girl quick enough, though it was to Alice’s credit that she cried for her home as she was thrust out of the gates. She mourned the loss of the nuns, every single one of which looked downright cheerful to see the girl leaving. Her father’s knights surrounded her palfrey as they made their way down the road from the swiftly closing door of the convent. The girl had been sent off with only two gowns, and no woman to attend her.
“Why is my father sending for me? I hardly remember him at all….” Alice’s tone was doubtful as she tried to remember her father.
“I am sixteen years old now, and I think I was ….well, I do not really remember when I went to the convent.”
“When you were three, I believe. After the death of your mother.” Robert Waters rode beside the talkative teenager.
“Why hasn’t he come to see me in those thirteen years?”
“He was busy, milady. There were the Saxon rebels to put down. He had little enough time to tend to a child, and no woman fit to do so.”
“I thought my father had remarried. Mother Abbess said he had. Several times, I think.”
Robert nodded, grimacing at the memory of the parade of duchesses, none of whom seemed to last long, all dying seemingly natural deaths.
“Is my father married now?”
“No, Milady. His latest wife died two years past.”
Alice’s sweet face melted with sympathy. “It must have been very hard on him to lose so many of his wives. I can imagine how discouraging it must have been. He must be so lonely now.”
Two of the knights behind her glanced at each other, shaking their heads. Robert stared straight ahead, offering a murmured agreement. Hard, indeed. The old bastard had celebrated the dead of each wife with a bevy of mistresses. Even now he had three of them in his castle, three women at his beck and call, at least two each night in his bed. That was not counting all the serf women he had raped. But Robert wasn’t going to be the one to disillusion the girl of her father’s worth.
“Well, I will miss the sisters. But I can’t wait to be there for my father, to be a comfort to him in his old age. Do you think he will have already picked a husband out for me?” Anxious gray-blue eyes sought out Robert’s, though he tried to look away.
“I believe so, milady.”
“Oh!” She clapped in excitement, and her palfrey danced nervously. Robert’s hand darted out to grab the palfrey’s bridle that had dropped out of Alice’s hand, calming the little mare down.
“Oh tell me about him! Is he handsome? Is he kind? Does he have nice teeth? What color is his hair?”
Robert almost reeled under the staccato beat of her peppered questions.
“I do not know, Milady. I only heard he had chosen a husband for you.”
It was a lie, but he did not have the heart to tell the poor girl her betrothed was a cruel, bald-headed, fat bastard of an earl. The girl didn’t miss a beat though, chattering on for the rest of the day about her handsome husband to be, the children they would have, how she would care for the man’s home, and so on until Robert wanted to vomit. The disgruntled looks of his fellow knights told they were thoroughly sick of the fabled, grand husband as well.
Three days later when the exhausted knights rode through the gates of Castle Lindley, Lady Alice was still talking. She accepted Robert’s hand to help her from the saddle, staring around at the men standing in the courtyard.
“Oh, which one is my father?”
Robert reluctantly led her to where the Duke stood, feeling as if he were leading an innocent lamb to the slaughter. The Duke was a portly, gray-headed man with beady cold eyes. He eyed his beaming daughter up and down, then grunted as the girl threw herself at him. Slender arms wrapped around his neck as she whispered in his ear.
“Oh, Father! I finally get to meet you!”
The Duke hesitated, then wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly to him. He felt the softness of her breasts against his chest, her hips cradling the bulge of his manhood. The leering grin his men saw over Alice’s shoulder left no doubt the direction of the lecherous Duke’s thoughts, and he patted his daughter’s rear. She was so caught up in her excitement over meeting her father she never even noticed. Everyone else in the courtyard did though. Some men smirked. Others frowned. By the time Alice was seated next to her father at the table that evening, the news was all over the castle and the nearby town about how the old Duke had fondled his daughter in front of everyone, and the girl had not seemed to care one whit.
It was at that dinner that Alice met her betrothed. She could not hide her disappointment, and the leering smile of Walter Griffin, Earl of Kingshire, was met with an unhappy but polite smile. She hated him on sight. Hated the clammy softness of his hands. Hated the way he looked at her as if she were a freshly baked partridge set on his plate. Hated the way he snapped at the serving girls. Hated his shrill voice. Hated his bald head. Hated everything about him.
She tried to hide it, but everyone saw it. Particularly Walter Griffin. Her revulsion only intrigued him further.
“I hope she fights me in her bed, would make a fine wedding knight.” He whispered into the ear of the man beside him, and both men bellowed with laughter. Their considering eyes on Alice made her blush, and she shifted her eyes away, not knowing why she was so uncomfortable with their gazes. But she dared not argue, dared not plead with her father to allow her to refuse the marriage. The banns had already been posted. It was already a done thing. And it was not her place to have a say in the matter.
So it was a depressed, unhappy Alice that was led to her bedroom that evening. A sad teenage girl desperately missing the familiar safe walls of the convent that finally fell into a fitful sleep to the tune of the bellowing cheers of the drunken knights below.
Alice awoke early, determined to have a better day than the one before. She dressed quickly in a simple sky-blue gown, belted around her waist with a darker blue sash. Her hair she brushed out and tied back with a ribbon of blue silk. Other highborn women would have waited for a maid to dress them, but Alice had been raised in a convent where her duties were to help the elderly nuns, not to be waited upon. She grabbed an apple and a wedge of cheese for her breakfast on her way out the door, and made her way to the stables. After three days horseback she should be thoroughly sick of it, but she was not. Alice loved riding. It was a rare, coveted treat at the convent. No one had forbidden it here, at least not yet. Alice was of the firm belief it was better to ask forgiveness than permission.
“I want to go riding this morning.”
The stable-master stared dumbfounded at the young lady who stood in front of him.
“But milady…..!”
She wondered over to where a row of dirty saddles rested on the wooden horses, needing to be cleaned.
“Who do these belong to?”
“Lord Griffin, milady. And his men.” The stable-master looked around for someone to save him from this awkward situation. He didn’t feel the girl should be out riding, but it was not his place to deny her.
“Oh, really?”
Any of the nuns at the convent Alice had grown up with would have been thoroughly alarmed at the innocent curiosity in that tone, but the stable-master was ignorant of its meaning.
“Please saddled a horse for me.”
The politely phrased request was a command, coming from the Duke’s daughter. The stable-master hurried to obey. While he was gone, a wicked smile curled Alice’s pink lips as she slipped her dagger from the belt. The dagger slashed again and again, up and down the line.
“Stare at ME like that, will you? I will teach you respect, milord!” She muttered as she sawed three quarters of the way through each cinch, her eyes twinkling.
By the time the stable-master led back to saddled horses, one black gelding and one pretty little chestnut mare, Alice was standing right where she had been left, an innocent smile on her face.
“I only need one horse.” She giggled, reaching for the mare.
“You cannot go alone, milady!” The stable-master waved over one of the young guards of the keep.
“Ride with milady this morning. Perhaps milord can assign her a more permanent guard when she gets back.”
A cool morning breeze swirled around Alice as she rode out of the castle walls, a bewildered guard riding behind her, not sure if he actually should be or not. Without a word to the poor confused boy following behind her, Alice kicked her heels against the mare and the horse lurched forward. With a shriek of wild joy, Alice galloped across the field to the forest line. Her guard was a bit slow to follow, swearing under her breath as he hastened to try to catch up.
The Duke of Lindley was balls deep in his nineteen year old whore when he heard his daughter’s squeal of joy. He recognized her voice immediately, and with a frown pulled out of the girl and rolled off the bed, going to the window. He stared in shock at the sight of his convent educated daughter tearing across the field like a wild peasant bitch allowed to run free, one solitary guard trying desperately to catch up. He leaned out of the window, shouting down into the courtyard.
“AFTER HER! WHOEVER LET HER GO OFF LIKE THAT WILL PAY! GO FETCH HER BACK!”
Swearing, he turned back into his room and shouted for a servant to dress him. How a convent trained girl could be so damnable wild he did not know, but damned if he would allow it. It was time for his pretty little daughter to learn her place.
“Oh! You are men!”
A muffled snort of laughter came from two of the knights as the girl boldly looked them up and down curiously.
“I haven’t seen men before, except the priests. You are awfully hairy.” Her tone indicated disapproval of their hairiness. “Sister Agatha’s father spent time in the east, and she said people there aren’t as hairy as here. Have you ever tried to shave off some of your hair?”
One of the knights coughed in embarrassment and opened his mouth to respond, but then a terrifying visage appeared from the bushes.
“ALICE!” The triumphant tone of the portly nun brought a laughing squeak from the girl, who promptly darted off. The knights watched in amused horror as the nun waddled after her at a semblance of a run. The nun’s normal sedate wimple was gone, and the woman’s close cropped hair was a blushing pink. The black habit had been bleached white and a poor attempt at dying it red made, resulting in the fabric being blotched pink like the face of a plague victim.
“ALICE YOU LITTLE DEVIL! COME BACK HERE!”
The convent garden soon was silent again, and the knights all made it a point not to look at each other lest they begin laughing. The name of Alice was a familiar one. How many other girls could the convent hold with that name, with the same round sweet face, with the same cornflower blue eyes and flaxen hair of the Duke’s dead second wife? No, that had to be the girl they had been sent to fetch back to the cold, gray stone walls of her father’s castle.
And fetched she was. The Mother Abbess could not seem to get rid of the girl quick enough, though it was to Alice’s credit that she cried for her home as she was thrust out of the gates. She mourned the loss of the nuns, every single one of which looked downright cheerful to see the girl leaving. Her father’s knights surrounded her palfrey as they made their way down the road from the swiftly closing door of the convent. The girl had been sent off with only two gowns, and no woman to attend her.
“Why is my father sending for me? I hardly remember him at all….” Alice’s tone was doubtful as she tried to remember her father.
“I am sixteen years old now, and I think I was ….well, I do not really remember when I went to the convent.”
“When you were three, I believe. After the death of your mother.” Robert Waters rode beside the talkative teenager.
“Why hasn’t he come to see me in those thirteen years?”
“He was busy, milady. There were the Saxon rebels to put down. He had little enough time to tend to a child, and no woman fit to do so.”
“I thought my father had remarried. Mother Abbess said he had. Several times, I think.”
Robert nodded, grimacing at the memory of the parade of duchesses, none of whom seemed to last long, all dying seemingly natural deaths.
“Is my father married now?”
“No, Milady. His latest wife died two years past.”
Alice’s sweet face melted with sympathy. “It must have been very hard on him to lose so many of his wives. I can imagine how discouraging it must have been. He must be so lonely now.”
Two of the knights behind her glanced at each other, shaking their heads. Robert stared straight ahead, offering a murmured agreement. Hard, indeed. The old bastard had celebrated the dead of each wife with a bevy of mistresses. Even now he had three of them in his castle, three women at his beck and call, at least two each night in his bed. That was not counting all the serf women he had raped. But Robert wasn’t going to be the one to disillusion the girl of her father’s worth.
“Well, I will miss the sisters. But I can’t wait to be there for my father, to be a comfort to him in his old age. Do you think he will have already picked a husband out for me?” Anxious gray-blue eyes sought out Robert’s, though he tried to look away.
“I believe so, milady.”
“Oh!” She clapped in excitement, and her palfrey danced nervously. Robert’s hand darted out to grab the palfrey’s bridle that had dropped out of Alice’s hand, calming the little mare down.
“Oh tell me about him! Is he handsome? Is he kind? Does he have nice teeth? What color is his hair?”
Robert almost reeled under the staccato beat of her peppered questions.
“I do not know, Milady. I only heard he had chosen a husband for you.”
It was a lie, but he did not have the heart to tell the poor girl her betrothed was a cruel, bald-headed, fat bastard of an earl. The girl didn’t miss a beat though, chattering on for the rest of the day about her handsome husband to be, the children they would have, how she would care for the man’s home, and so on until Robert wanted to vomit. The disgruntled looks of his fellow knights told they were thoroughly sick of the fabled, grand husband as well.
Three days later when the exhausted knights rode through the gates of Castle Lindley, Lady Alice was still talking. She accepted Robert’s hand to help her from the saddle, staring around at the men standing in the courtyard.
“Oh, which one is my father?”
Robert reluctantly led her to where the Duke stood, feeling as if he were leading an innocent lamb to the slaughter. The Duke was a portly, gray-headed man with beady cold eyes. He eyed his beaming daughter up and down, then grunted as the girl threw herself at him. Slender arms wrapped around his neck as she whispered in his ear.
“Oh, Father! I finally get to meet you!”
The Duke hesitated, then wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly to him. He felt the softness of her breasts against his chest, her hips cradling the bulge of his manhood. The leering grin his men saw over Alice’s shoulder left no doubt the direction of the lecherous Duke’s thoughts, and he patted his daughter’s rear. She was so caught up in her excitement over meeting her father she never even noticed. Everyone else in the courtyard did though. Some men smirked. Others frowned. By the time Alice was seated next to her father at the table that evening, the news was all over the castle and the nearby town about how the old Duke had fondled his daughter in front of everyone, and the girl had not seemed to care one whit.
It was at that dinner that Alice met her betrothed. She could not hide her disappointment, and the leering smile of Walter Griffin, Earl of Kingshire, was met with an unhappy but polite smile. She hated him on sight. Hated the clammy softness of his hands. Hated the way he looked at her as if she were a freshly baked partridge set on his plate. Hated the way he snapped at the serving girls. Hated his shrill voice. Hated his bald head. Hated everything about him.
She tried to hide it, but everyone saw it. Particularly Walter Griffin. Her revulsion only intrigued him further.
“I hope she fights me in her bed, would make a fine wedding knight.” He whispered into the ear of the man beside him, and both men bellowed with laughter. Their considering eyes on Alice made her blush, and she shifted her eyes away, not knowing why she was so uncomfortable with their gazes. But she dared not argue, dared not plead with her father to allow her to refuse the marriage. The banns had already been posted. It was already a done thing. And it was not her place to have a say in the matter.
So it was a depressed, unhappy Alice that was led to her bedroom that evening. A sad teenage girl desperately missing the familiar safe walls of the convent that finally fell into a fitful sleep to the tune of the bellowing cheers of the drunken knights below.
Alice awoke early, determined to have a better day than the one before. She dressed quickly in a simple sky-blue gown, belted around her waist with a darker blue sash. Her hair she brushed out and tied back with a ribbon of blue silk. Other highborn women would have waited for a maid to dress them, but Alice had been raised in a convent where her duties were to help the elderly nuns, not to be waited upon. She grabbed an apple and a wedge of cheese for her breakfast on her way out the door, and made her way to the stables. After three days horseback she should be thoroughly sick of it, but she was not. Alice loved riding. It was a rare, coveted treat at the convent. No one had forbidden it here, at least not yet. Alice was of the firm belief it was better to ask forgiveness than permission.
“I want to go riding this morning.”
The stable-master stared dumbfounded at the young lady who stood in front of him.
“But milady…..!”
She wondered over to where a row of dirty saddles rested on the wooden horses, needing to be cleaned.
“Who do these belong to?”
“Lord Griffin, milady. And his men.” The stable-master looked around for someone to save him from this awkward situation. He didn’t feel the girl should be out riding, but it was not his place to deny her.
“Oh, really?”
Any of the nuns at the convent Alice had grown up with would have been thoroughly alarmed at the innocent curiosity in that tone, but the stable-master was ignorant of its meaning.
“Please saddled a horse for me.”
The politely phrased request was a command, coming from the Duke’s daughter. The stable-master hurried to obey. While he was gone, a wicked smile curled Alice’s pink lips as she slipped her dagger from the belt. The dagger slashed again and again, up and down the line.
“Stare at ME like that, will you? I will teach you respect, milord!” She muttered as she sawed three quarters of the way through each cinch, her eyes twinkling.
By the time the stable-master led back to saddled horses, one black gelding and one pretty little chestnut mare, Alice was standing right where she had been left, an innocent smile on her face.
“I only need one horse.” She giggled, reaching for the mare.
“You cannot go alone, milady!” The stable-master waved over one of the young guards of the keep.
“Ride with milady this morning. Perhaps milord can assign her a more permanent guard when she gets back.”
A cool morning breeze swirled around Alice as she rode out of the castle walls, a bewildered guard riding behind her, not sure if he actually should be or not. Without a word to the poor confused boy following behind her, Alice kicked her heels against the mare and the horse lurched forward. With a shriek of wild joy, Alice galloped across the field to the forest line. Her guard was a bit slow to follow, swearing under her breath as he hastened to try to catch up.
The Duke of Lindley was balls deep in his nineteen year old whore when he heard his daughter’s squeal of joy. He recognized her voice immediately, and with a frown pulled out of the girl and rolled off the bed, going to the window. He stared in shock at the sight of his convent educated daughter tearing across the field like a wild peasant bitch allowed to run free, one solitary guard trying desperately to catch up. He leaned out of the window, shouting down into the courtyard.
“AFTER HER! WHOEVER LET HER GO OFF LIKE THAT WILL PAY! GO FETCH HER BACK!”
Swearing, he turned back into his room and shouted for a servant to dress him. How a convent trained girl could be so damnable wild he did not know, but damned if he would allow it. It was time for his pretty little daughter to learn her place.