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And thus we begin the story... --------------------------------------------------------- 01Knight - Chapter Two {Moon Dragon} "Once a Knight" Copyright Moon Dragon - Mar/2010 (fM, oral, FM, anal, magic, viol, F-solo exhib, MMf, f-solo, voy, reluc, best, f-dog 1st-ff, ffM, shav, mf, MF, rom, hist) - X - X - X - When a Contessa from present times returns and cannot go back for the love she yearns from a magical adventure in the past though ever more her love will last her squires must turn their weekend play into courage and prowess to save the day - X - X - X - DRAMATIS PERSONAE Lady Angharad O'Shaughnessy of Kilkenny Lord Lincoln Mac Galbraith of Blakeshire Wood (Squires to Syr Gabriella) Syr Gabriella Valentina, Contessa del Giardino Bella (Head of House Valentina) Sir Edmund de la Claire Baroness Sokhatai Bolkhadar (Lord and Lady of House de la Claire) Duchess Lucinda Melisande Von Landstadt (The Ivory Duchess) Sir Tyrus, Lord Blakeshire (Knight of the Kings Court) Helga and Hannah the Serving Girls (Handmaidens at Blakeshire Keep, Sisters) Lord Nathaniel of Belascye (Squire of Sir Tyrus) - X - X - X - ... Arriving rather flushed of face, Helga quickly saw to the needs of their guests. Sir Tyrus didn't remark on her unusually breathless appearance, Angharad noted with a smirk, but she could see that the girl had just been well and truly fucked. The grinning redhead gave the willowy peasant girl a saucy wink when the knights back was turned, a secret between us girls, she seemed to say, and they were directed downstairs to the great hall. Once everyone had taken their seats, and all the servants were dismissed, Sir Tyrus begged them both to speak further of Gabriella's fate. Angharad explained that Syr Gabriella, or Lady Jacklyn as Tyrus knew her, was from a time far in the future and that she had accidently traveled back to this time two years ago, by virtue of a magical pendant that she had purchased from an elderly gypsy woman. Lincoln was saved from thinking that she had come unglued only by virtue of his own current position. He couldn't debate any part of her story, seeing that the very same thing had happened to him only hours earlier. The knight, on the other hand, took the story quite in stride. Witchcraft, or at least fear of it, were quite common things in this age. He was rather sorrowed upon learning, though, that it had been his gift to Jacklyn that had catapulted her back to her own time. Neither of them could have known, Angharad said, and there was nothing that they could have done to prevent it. "When first I knew Lady Jacklyn," Tyrus said, "She had run afoul of a putrid pair of miscreants. I was unable to save her from the ravishes of the first, though the second died upon my blade ere he could lay hands upon her. Her heart could have been thoroughly shattered by such an ordeal, but before that same night was out she made her way to my... Well, her heart was fine." Lincoln was again gobsmacked by this revelation. There had never been mention of ANY of this anywhere in his presence. Angharad merely nodded wisely, though, aware of what had happened to Syr Gabriella upon her arrival in this era, and how she had found comfort in the arms of this gentle knight. "I trust," Sir Tyrus added, "That your appearance upon my lands was rather more uneventful?" "Would that it were so, milord," Lincoln said, holding his first part in the conversation, "Immediately as we came to this time, we too were set upon by just such a pair of ruffians as you describe. I was able to defeat the first, while Lady Angharad evaded the second." "Upon my lands?" Tyrus asked, "Indeed. Where so?" "Just a few hours walk to the east of the manor," said Angharad, "There lies a pool of clear water within the surrounding stand of trees." "Aye, I know just the place," Tyrus nodded, "And these two ruffians, were they in my domain alone?" "Nay, they were not, milord," Angharad replied, "There was with them an older golden haired lady. They seemed to follow her orders." "Her name," Tyrus demanded, sitting quickly upright in his oaken chair, "Did either of them speak her name?" "Oh," the Irish lass replied, "One did... But I am not certain that I recall it." "Was it Lucinda, by chance?" "Aye, that was she," Angharad agreed, "Duchess Lucinda he called her." "Gods ballocks," Tyrus swore, "The ivory duchess under my very nose, and I oblivious to it." "The ivory duchess? Who is she?" "That is far too great a question to answer at so late an hour," Tyrus said, "We will speak more of it in the morning. Surely you must be exhausted. Helga will show you to your rooms." Helga, appearing from nowhere upon command as servants often seem able to do, approached the high table with another girl, younger but also blonde, in tow. The new girl began to clear the table as Angharad and Lincoln got to their feet, curtsying to them politely, and the brawny Scot guessed her age at somewhere near fourteen summers, or thereabouts. "This is my little sister, Hannah," the blonde servant girl said, "She heard someone say that there were two outlanders in the manor who knew Lady Jacklyn, and she wanted to meet you." "You knew Lady Jacklyn as well?" Angharad asked. "Nay, milady, not I," Hannah replied as she took up an empty wine goblet, "Not personally, though each one of us has heard Sir Tyrus speaking of her." "Does he speak of her often?" "Ceaselessly," the younger girl said, "It is said that none here had ever beheld him so happy as when she was with him, nor so broken as when she disappeared. They had not been together long, milady, but he had come to love her fiercely, even now still as much as ever, and he misses her terribly." Hannah had nothing further to add, though what she had already told them spoke volumes about the knights true feelings for the missing Contessa. Angharad nodded for Helga to precede them, but as they went upstairs, she couldn't help but notice Sir Tyrus standing before the great hearth at the end of the hall, tenderly cradling in his strong hands a small shining thing which looked for all the world like a piece of golden filigree. Once they had returned to the upper level of the manor house, with Helga leading the way, they each went into their own chamber. Lincoln muttered under his breath a little at not sharing his room with Angharad, but they didn't fuss too much. Young men and women who had not been properly wed could not share sleeping quarters in this age; it simply wasn't done... - X - X - X - ... Later that same night, when the manor was dark and silent, Angharad found herself unable to sleep. Taking up a candle in an ornate silver holder, she opened her chamber door and slipped across the hallway, clad only in a light chemise. Judging by the snoring coming from his chamber, Lincoln did not share her sense of unease and had no difficulty sleeping. Having nobody to talk to, she set out instead to locate the garderobe. After she had gone down a stone staircase, and around a few corners, she found the facilities and, upon completing her business, headed back to find her chamber. She traveled through a seemingly endless assortment of hallways and corners, and back up a stairway, but then realized that she must have taken a wrong turn at some point, as this stairway didn't open on the hallway in which her chamber was located. As she was on the verge of calling for Lincoln or anybody else who might come to help her, she caught a glimpse of moonlight falling through an open door. Thinking that she might find the right way back to her chamber if she could just figure out what part of the house she was in, Angharad opened the door and stepped outside into the sultry summer night. The light of the full moon showed a crenellated walkway all around the sloped roof of the keep. Breathing in the warm moonlit air, she gazed out over the battlements, taking in the wonderful spectacle of the estate. Just to the west was an expanse of forest, but between manor and forest, and on all other sides as well stood a crystal clear lake, resting mirror flat in the quiet air. The keep had been built upon an island that rose some forty feet out of its surface, such that the lake guarded them from every side, with the stone causeway that extended out over the waters to the lakes eastern shore. The woods began on the western shore, extending a canopy over the shining water, reaching the distant hills of the valley surrounding Blakeshire manor as it embraced the keep from north and south alike. An easy night breeze had her chemise fluttering around her body, with that soft linen fabric lightly stroking her nipples, and Angharad looked around to see whether there was anybody else about. Men patrolled the lower battlement walls, but way up here, high atop the manor keep, she was alone. Blakeshire manor wasn't devoted entirely to war; there were several benches of wood and stone, some even had woven cushions, clustered round a low stone table near the lakeside wall. Standing out of the stone table was what she could only describe as a wooden framed patio umbrella. It appeared anachronistic in this place, and Angharad couldn't help but wonder if Syr Gabriella had suggested it to Tyrus while she was here. Lying herself back upon a cushioned bench, the redhead began idly stroking her hands up and down her body. An easy tug pulled the hemlines of her chemise up around her waist; she wore nothing beneath it. The warm night carried a pleasant fragrance from the handful of fruit trees growing within the courtyard outside the wooden outbuilding that housed the manor kitchen; this sticky sweet perfume soon mingling with a new scent. As the delicate fragrance of her arousal began to urge her to new explorations, Angharad allowed her fingers to wander down to the center of her desire. She softly caressed her hairless slit, as always loving the silky smooth feeling of her naked pussy lips. One fingertip slipped into the crease between her thighs, finding an expected damp warmth as the Irish lass began thrusting one finger in and out of her wetness. Moaning softly, hoping that nobody could hear her, she spread her legs apart as her finger probed deeper into her feminine depths. Spasms of delight caused her body to twitch as she added another finger into her velvety tightness. Gently opening up the petals of her pouting slit, the sexy redhead used her free hand to seek out her throbbing clit, whimpering at the contact with her stiffened little button. Exquisite pleasure radiated outward from her clit, and her body began quivering with a delicious anticipation as she kept playing with her slick pink pussy, but she slowed down before it went to far. She wasn't ready to cum quite yet. Looking about once again to be sure that she was still alone upon the rooftop, Angharad took off her chemise entirely, discarding it in a pile beside her. Reaching up to squeeze her naked tits, her nipples hardening in her palms, she lifted first one then the other towards her sensuous lips. Gently suckling on her own nipples always drove her crazy, and she felt rippling jolts of lust shooting through her writhing body, straight into her dripping slit. Her clit was begging for attention, and the sexy Irish lass reached between her legs with both hands, gently parting her pussy lips with one and going for her hard little button with the other. Twinkles of technicolor perfume began bursting through her body, and the fiery scent of celestial fireworks filled her head. Although she wanted to drag these sensations out for as long as possible, fighting that last peak of ecstasy, Angharad could tell that she was about to cum hard, whether she was ready for it or not. "Oh my God... Yes, here it comes," she moaned, feeling the last meager shreds of her control quickly slipping away, "Oh yeah... Ungh, fuck... fuck... fuck!" Furiously working her clit, Angharad began to convulse in delight, her wildly thrashing hips all but throwing her off of the cushioned bench. Her heaving tits still bore witness to her breathless delirium, and colorful aftershocks fired randomly through her pussy until her body had returned to normal. The sexy Irish lass basked in the afterglow for just a few moments longer before getting back to her feet and donning her chemise. As she settled the linen garment about her slender shoulders, she saw movement from the corner of her eye. Helga, leaning against the stairway door, was just smoothing her own chemise back into its rightful order. "You scared me half to death," Angharad told her, "How long have you been standing there?" "Long enough, milady" Helga grinned, licking something shiny and wet from her fingers. "Dear lord. Have you been watching me?" Angharad asked her, blushing furiously. "Yes, milady," the peasant girl admitted, "I heard you leave your chambers, and when you didn't return I came to find you, thinking that you may have lost your way in the dark of night. I am pleased to know that I need not have been worried overmuch." "You," smiled Angharad, "Are a naughty, naughty girl." "I'll not deny that," Helga grinned back, "But might I ask one question of you, milady?" Angharad nodded warily. "Well, I could not help but notice..." Helga stammered rather shyly, blushing herself now that she was openly asking, "That you don't seem to have any... That is to say, that the... Um... hair isn't..." "I think I understand," Angharad said. She debated for an instant, realized that the peasant girl had already seen her naked anyway, and raised her chemise over her thighs, displaying her hairless little pussy. "Is this what you meant?" she asked. "Aye, milady," the blonde girl answered, "I have never seen such a thing. It looks so very... smooth." "This is something of a fashion where Lord Lincoln and myself are from," Angharad explained simply, "He likes it this way. If you wish to learn how, mayhap we could even teach you, he and I." "Say you so?" Helga asked eagerly, "Might we try to do it soon?" "Helga," said the Irish redhead, "I believe this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship..." - X - X - X - ... The next morning dawned fair and bright, and Helga arrived with a chest full of fine clothing that Tyrus had provided for them. After they had dressed and seen to their morning ablutions, Helga escorted them to the great hall, where the knight was waiting. Lord Lincoln saw a look pass between Lady Angharad and the serving girl, who then glanced at him with frank appraisal and winked, and he wondered what tales his Irish lass had been telling. In any case, a hearty breakfast was laid out before them, and once it was finished, talk turned to the adventures of the previous day. "These men that attacked you," Tyrus asked, "Wore they livery bearing a winged rams head within a triangle of gold, upon a field of white and green?" "They did," Lincoln confirmed, "What does that mean?" "They are members of the kings guard," Tyrus said with a snarl, "And a plague upon my land they've been, this last half score of years gone." "The kings men?" Angharad gasped, "Assaulting innocent folk, and ravishing women? Are these lands not held in the kings name? Surely he must punish his soldiers for this sort of behavior in his own realm." "Aye, milady," the knight said sadly, "But the king no longer rules these lands as once he did. He still sits the royal throne, but the real power in this kingdom lies in the hands of the accursed she-bitch upon which you looked last eve. The royal army would no longer be capable of defending this realm from any foe stronger than a marauding herd of cattle. She dismissed each of the real fighting men, those loyal to the king, and in their places recruited an army of thugs that she could bend to her will." "Did not those loyal to the king resist?" Lord Lincoln asked incredulously. "She banished them to the last man," Sir Tyrus replied quietly, "The duchess fell upon them without warning with her band of knaves. Sent them from their lands in chains with naught save the clothes on their back, and stripped them of property and titles. They were given no chance to resist; each man who refused to leave was declared an outlaw and executed." "This is horrible," Angharad said, "Why in the name of heaven have they not since revolted against her?" "How can they?" Tyrus inquired, "They have nothing. No weapons with which they may arm themselves, no venison nor bread to fill hungry bellies, nor even enough coin to acquire those things which are lacking. We who have held loyal to the king in secret have done our utmost to keep our evicted fellows warm and fed, and smuggled arms to them when we can, but Lucinda has implemented such strict controls upon all the goods in the kingdom that it is difficult to spare anything. More difficult still to send what little can be spared to where there is most need without her knowledge." "I am curious," pondered Lord Lincoln, "How is it that the king has allowed these events to continue?" "Not by his choice, I fear," the knight stated, "There was an illness that swept through the royal house some time ago. His eldest son was the first to succumb, and his queen followed soon thereafter, may God rest them both. His youngest child is but a babe, and though the king himself fought the malady, he has not since been his rightful self. He is sorely weakened, and he burns in fever. He spends most of his waking hours abed, and has done so these last three years gone." "This has been going on for three entire years?" asked the Lady Angharad, shocked. "Indeed," Tyrus said, "It is unnatural. God forgive me for these words, but there's the devil at work in this I'm certain, and it's the foul duchess who has invited him in. A man unwell of natural causes would have long since either yielded to the illness, and gone to meet his maker, or else improved his condition and regained some measure of his bearing." "Sir Tyrus," Angharad queried suspiciously, "Just what are you suggesting?" "Only this," the king's knight explained, "It has been suggested by those loyal to the king that she has cast some unnameable thing into his food ere the servants bear it forth, although I admit, there is little proof of it." "Why then the suspicion?" Lincoln asked. "Not long before the queens passing," Tyrus replied in a moment, "The king did appoint a foreign woman as his royal chatelaine. This was long ere he bestowed title upon her, but given such position she had unrestricted access to the palace entire. She spent too many hours in the kitchens, to 'supervise' the preparation of the royal food and drink. His sickening occurred at around the same time. Whether the deaths of the queen and the kings heir were of natural causes or nay, when malady struck His Majesty as well, after he had remained full in good health while the queen was ill, there was talk at court of the unusual timing." "These are horrible tidings," Angharad murmured. "Aye they are at that," Tyrus conceded, "More horrible still, however, are these tidings which you yourselves have borne hence of the duchess, damn her eyes." "Why do you say that, Sir Tyrus?" Lincoln asked, "Have we said something concerning her that has bearing upon these events?" "Indeed," Tyrus replied, "It is one thing for that hag to send her lackeys to spy upon the lands of those who she suspects of loyalty to the king, but it is quite another for her to venture so far from the royal court herself. For you to have seen her, right in Blakeshire Wood, there must be some foul thing afoot." "So what are you suggesting?" Angharad asked again. "I have no doubt that the duchess is plotting some new treachery," the knight answered pensively, "If only we could know what sort of villainy she is planning." Lincoln and Angharad both glanced at one another, each seeming to know what the other was thinking. "Milord," Lincoln began, "You spoke of those men, such as yourself, who have still remained loyal to the king in secret. Could it be that the ivory duchess somehow have learned that you are supporting the folk who were banished, sending them food and arms, and that she now aims to strike against you?" "Aye," Tyrus admitted, "So ill a thing might have come to pass in spite of our attempts at secrecy. Think you then that the rogues who challenged you were advanced scouts, out to determine the details of my patrols and so forth and report them back to Lucinda?" "If such a thing be true, milord," Angharad said, "You should perhaps expect her to take action sooner rather than later. Else what would be the point in having her men learn such details, should they be changed by time she sets her plans in motion?" "This has the sound of wise council, coming as it does from one with few years," Tyrus smiled, "Jacklyn must be very proud of you. Indeed, of you both. Perhaps the duchess has not reckoned upon your presence here, and is unaware that she has been seen on my lands. I shall rearrange my patrols at once, and mayhap we will catch her by surprise yet." "With some luck," Lincoln agreed, "She'll never see it coming..." - X - X - X - ... Later that afternoon, Hannah was sent to a village nearby to purchase supplies for the manor. Blakeshire was primarily self sufficient, growing much of its own food, augmented by Men of the Field who took meat from the forest and fish from the lake, but certain things were simply easier to find in the small village just a league south of the Keep. Hannah reached it quickly so she yet had time to visit with Goliath before starting her chores, if she didn't dawdle overlong, and she did want to see how he was doing. Goliath was the great hunting hound that Sir Tyrus had entrusted to her father. He had served the knight well enough, but he had been gored by a wild boar when last he was in the field. Sir Tyrus, loath to be rid of so beloved an animal, had instead placed the hound in the capable care of her father. He had once been a steward at the manor, and although he was retired now that he had advanced in years, Sir Tyrus trusted no other with the hounds care and well being. Tyrus had first thought to put the animal down, but it had proven unnecessary. The dogs injury had eventually healed, though he was not yet fully recovered. Though he still limped if he walked any distance, Goliath was keen to rejoin the hunt. She saw it in the way he hung his head and whined every time a party of hunters rode into the forest. As she opened the doors of the small barn owned by her family, Goliath barked in greeting, sticking his nose into the basket that she carted to see whether she had brought a bone for him, or perhaps even a juicy cut of meat. Hannah took a brush down from a shelf, and began to work loose a few tangled knots, picking stray bits of straw from the barn floor out of a coat as black as a ravens wing. Goliath soon whuffed his approval as he gnawed upon the great bone that he had found hiding in the basket after all. The scent of the dog on so warm a day, and the feel of Goliath's muscled shoulder under her hand, quickly had an affect upon the young girl. Hannah was often found around the barn whenever she was not working up at the manor, as everybody knew, but there was something else that they certainly did not know. Hannah had also kept a secret, a naughty little secret just between her and Goliath that none else were aware of. As she continued grooming the hunting dog, the blonde fourteen year old felt the gathering wetness between her thighs. Goliath could not join the hunt until he was recovered fully, which she felt was unjustified, as he was still the equal of a stag if not a boar, so Hannah would do what she could to put things right until then. Finding a new scent upon the air, Goliath dropped the bone he gnawed upon and thrust his nose beneath Hannah's rough homespun skirt. Gasping with the contact, the young girl felt the dogs cold nose snuffling against her puffy little slit, and sighed contentedly as the hulking animal began to lap at the steamy moisture he found there. Laying down the dogs brush, Hannah sat back on a wooden crate that had been left lying nearby, raising up her homespun skirt until it was bunched around her slender waist. Parting her willowy thighs to allow the massive canine easier access, she let her head fall back with a soft moan as the dog eagerly licked her pussy. The last time she had come to visit, the burly hunting dog had swiped a lick at her when she raised her skirt to scratch at her leg. Despite the unexpected shock of that incident, Hannah had decided immediately that she liked it, but she was unable to explore the situation any further as her father had been just outside of the door. This time, though, she was all alone and she had a little more time to play. Resting one ankle upon the back of Goliath's neck, she untied the drawstring at the neck of her simple blouse and delved inside, caressing her tender breast with a gentle hand as the rough dog tongue slipped deeper and deeper in her hot and dripping slit. Lord Blakeshire's squire, a strong lad her own age called Lord Nathaniel of Belascye, had once persuaded her to go for a tumble with him in the hayloft, and he had done his utmost to please her in this way as best he was able, but there was no comparison. Goliath was hitting places with his tongue that a human simply couldn't. The dogs grating tongue was slipping in and out of her wet slit, hitting all of the right places, and Hannah could feel the fast approach of something that she had never experienced before. After her previous encounter with Goliath, she had taken to touching herself there whenever she had an opportunity. Each time she dressed every morning, or used the garderobe, had become a new experiment. What she had been doing had felt wonderful indeed, but it was nothing like this. Gasping for breath, the young serving girl felt a kind of tension coiling in her body, and she was surprised to find that her hips had begun to rock back and forth upon the gently creaking wooden crate. She didn't know what was happening to her, but she guessed that it was something incredible. Just at that moment, Goliath's tongue slipped a little higher and ran along the little bump at the top of her slit, suddenly leaving all of that tension in her body with nowhere to go. "Oh yes," she whimpered, "Good boy, Goliath, ooh, good boy. Keep doing just, ungh, just like that. Oh Goliath what's... Mmmm, happening to me?" Just an instant later the slender young blonde started to writhe on the wooden crate, her hips bucking wildly as fragrant jolts of blazing color charged through her body, simultaneously fading out her sight and lighting up the inside of her head. "Ungh, ungh, ungh," she moaned, "I can't stop it... Oh Goliath, I can't... Mmmm, Goliath, Ooooh!" Sliding bonelessly to the straw covered floor, the hot young girl felt the dog follow her down, still licking her dripping slit. Pushing him gently away, she got to her knees. "Enough, greedy doggy," she giggled, convincing him at least to leave off lapping at her wet pussy to set his attentions on her nipples now that her loosened blouse had fallen away from her chest. Glancing down, Hannah noticed the red tip of the black dogs member poking out of its sheath, and felt another moment of sympathy. "Poor baby," she murmured, "Being here instead of back at the manor has kept you away from the hunt, but also away from... Ooh... the bitches in milords kennels as well. Seems hardly fair that such a lovely fine animal as you has to do without the... Mmmm... company of the lady dogs all for the sake of the foolish boar. Mayhap Hannah can do something to help." Reaching down, the young serving girl took hold of the sheath surrounding the dogs full hardness, and started stroking back and forth. Goliath whuffed his approval and continued licking Hannah's tits. Moments later the thing in her hand had grown to its full size, and she marveled at its length, wondering what to do with such an unusual item. It was three handspans long, at least by her hands, and it seemed to have a thicker swelling down around its base. Inspired by her sister, Hannah came up with a wickedly delightful idea. Unknown to her older sibling, the hot young serving girl had occasionally spied on her while she dallied with the manors men at arms, and there was a thing that she had watched her sister do that those men seemed to like, so she reasoned that Goliath would like it too. Bowing her head beneath the dogs belly, she hesitantly opened her mouth and let the animals stiff member slip between her lips, cautiously testing to see whether it had an unpleasant taste. Finding nothing disagreeable at all, Hannah took Goliath's massive cock ever deeper into her mouth, savoring the feel of him as he slipped it in over her tongue. Goliath gave a happy growl as she rolled him over onto his back and began to bob her head above him, letting the sensitive shaft of his cock slip in and out of her mouth. As she fell into a rhythmic movement, she began to anticipate the flooding of Goliaths seed that would soon be her reward. Remembering that sometimes the men with whom Helga had dallied made rather a mess as they spilled their seed on her face or clothes, Hannah took the dogs shaft out of her mouth for a moment to doff her garments. As she did this, though, the hem of her skirt managed to hook the edge her market basket, overturning it and sending things rolling through the straw on the floor. Brushing through the straw to locate those items which had been scattered hither and yon, Hannah bent over to recover them, but failed to anticipate the predictable results. As her fingers swept back and forth over the packed earth floor, Goliath couldn't help but discover her sweetly upturned young ass. Having just grasped the last of the lost items, Hannah was shocked to feel the weight of the dog dropping on her back, and she likewise felt something hard nudging between her thighs. She knew instantly what was likely about to happen and began to struggle. "No, bad dog," she said, "Get down." It was no use. Goliath was not listening, and was much too heavy for her to dislodge by strength alone. There was a moment of fear as the tip of the big dogs rigid shaft settled against her virgin little slit, and with one sudden shove Goliath slid the full three handspans of his length up into her fourteen year old pussy, and Hannah was virgin no more. "Aaaaah!" she wailed as the big dogs massive cock tore into her tender body, sending shocks of burning agony shooting from her head to her toes. She struggled, but there was no relief. Getting now into a rhythm of his own, Goliath began to pound his hard member into Hannah's wet slit, seeming to get even deeper with his every thrust. His forepaws were tight around her waist, and his low hips battered against her own faster than a blacksmiths hammer. "Stop it," she wailed, but there had come to be rather less resistance in her struggles. After the moment of initial pain had receded, she had begun to realize the lack of discomfort in the dogs actions, in fact, quite the opposite. Goliath hunched over her ass, quickly stroking his big shaft in and out of her dripping pussy, growling with animal triumph as he marked this young serving girl as his bitch. Hannah moaned as his hard cock shoved into her tight wetness, jolting her body against the chilly earthen floor. His violently hard thrusts felt amazing as the big hunting dog rammed himself ever faster into her delicate wet slit. Once more she recognized the approach of the wonderful feeling that the dogs tongue had caused earlier, as it crested she could hold on no longer. "Oh, Goliath," she moaned, "Ungh... just like that." Again the tension built inside, her body convulsing as it overtook her, sending waves of honey scented lights rushing from her sexy young pussy to her orgasm fogged brain. Blazing tremors of fragrant delight burst with rainbow hues before her eyes, and fiery spasms wracked her slender body. "Oh yes," she wailed, "Ungh, ungh, ungh... Aaaaah!" The rippling contractions of her wet pussy soon proved to be more than Goliath could endure, and Hannah cried out anew as the big dog gave one final powerful shove and buried his fist sized knot in her quivering little slit. Gasping with delight, she felt the scalding jets of his seed spurting inside her, not one drop escaping the bulging knot that was stuck fast within her. It took almost half a turn of the glass before the dog could pull his dwindling shaft from her body, letting her get up to gather her clothes. The markets would be closed shortly, and she still hadn't gotten the manors supplies. She had to be quick, or she would never hear the end of it, from either Sir Tyrus or her sister. "You wait right here," she said, when Goliath took one last lick at her still tingling pussy. She put on her clothes, and Goliath barked a farewell as she scurried away, "I shall bring you back a few leftover pieces of roast beef if I am able." 'It would only be fair,' she thought to herself with a wicked smirk, 'He shared his meat with me...' - x - x - x - ... Lincoln was beckoned by a commotion in the hallway outside his chamber. He and Angharad had gone in there to discuss privately what, if anything, they might do to aid Sir Tyrus in this business concerning the Ivory Duchess. They were both experienced fighters, at least in the imitation combat of the KMA, but would such as that translate into any actual skill during a life and death struggle with naked steel? "It might do so," Lincoln was saying, "I handled those two ruffians in Blakeshire Wood ably enough." "You handled but one, as I recall," Angharad said with a smile, "Though you did handle him well." She had said this with a smile, and thus had taken the sting out of the words, but Lincoln knew she was right in any case. He smiled at her too. Though it bedeviled him to admit it, Angharad was in all truth the more capable fighter between them. She had been squired to Syr Gabriella in fact for a few of years before Lincoln had donned his own red belt and sworn fealty to the Contessa, and she had learned her lessons well. She shared not his skill with a bow, and he matched her in singles combat, but she could outperform him in the press of a melee as he did not keep a keen eye to the whole of the field, as she did rather than only what was standing right there in front of him. "Well, in any event," Lincoln went on, "If the Duchess should attempt to attack here in any force, Sir Tyrus and his men will need every able hand they can get, be they skilled or no. Mayhap we should see about getting some proper weapons for ourselves, and some armor that will fit you as well, be there such available." Before Lady Angharad could reply, there came a rushing of feet and murmurs from the hallway outside. Looking at one another in concern, they both got to their feet and went out to learn what had happened. Those outside turned out to be a small group of the manors servants scurrying into a nearby stairwell. Raised voices could be heard echoing from the great hall below. Upon their arrival, they saw a young girl, Hannah, but meek as any church mouse with her eyes locked upon the floor, being chastised by an older man in the red and black quartered livery of Sir Tyrus's house. There was a group of other servants, peering in through doorways and around corners by twos and threes; trying like all servants to be nearby whenever there was something of interest going on, yet without being near enough to be caught in it. Those that had preceded the two down the staircase quietly shuffled their feet and tried not to look guilty upon realizing that the Lords noble guests had followed them. "Who is that man?" asked Lincoln, wondering whether it would prove necessary to go to the girls defense. "That be Jeffrey Steward, if it please milord," one of the braver servants replied, "The Chamberlain for Lord Blakeshire's estate." "And what has this girl done to earn his wrath?" asked Angharad quietly. "She was sent to market this afternoon for supplies of the Manors requirement," the same fellow answered them again, "But she has only just now returned, hours late and without even the supplies." Steward had removed his wide leather belt, and reached for the for the girl, when a new voice stayed his hand before the blow could fall. "Mercy, milord, mercy." Lincoln looked up in surprise to see Helga pushing her way through the other servants. "The fault is mine, milord," she pleaded, "I sent this girl to the market on the orders of Sir Tyrus, but too long I waited to tell her. The markets were closed by the time she arrived, milord, by no fault of hers, and surely she must have feared to return in knowing there would be a lashing in it for her, although the mistake was my own. If someone is to be punished, then by your leave, let it be me in her stead." The chamberlain didn't hesitate, he roughly grabbed at Helga's arm, and forced her to bend over the table. An effortless flick swept her long skirts over her waist and wrenched her bloomers down to her thighs, exposing her upturned ass. Angharad gasped as she saw the mans leather belt rise and fall, once, twice, thrice with a resounding THWACK that left angry red welts across the young girls bottom, but Steward wasn't done. A dozen times or more the belt fell, and a dozen times Helga cringed in dread and yelped at the contact. When he was full finished, Steward hitched his belt around his waist once more and walked away, leaving the blond serving girl trembling in pain on the table, making no move to cover her naked bottom. The minute the belt had begun to fall, the rest of the servants had darted away, like the rats who abandoned sinking ships, leaving only Lincoln, Angharad and poor Hannah to witness the Chamberlains justice. No sooner had he walked off than Angharad had rushed over to the servant girls side, helping her stand, and wiping away her tears. "He gave me no time to explain," Hannah sobbed, "I did have the supplies, milady, I swear I did, but he would not listen." For the first time, Lincoln noticed that their younger friend had scrapes on her hands and her skirt was torn and muddy, as though she had fallen. "What happened, Hannah?" he asked, "You can tell us." "I was on my way back here," the girl explained, "With the supplies, when suddenly I heard noises off of the path. There were men, look you, just over a rise where they would not be seen from the battlements above. The men were all unkempt looking ruffians, but each one of them armed. I had to hide for a long time, lest those rogues discover me, and that is why I am late returned from market. Those supplies were heavy, milord; would that I were stronger, but the weight slowed my feet so much, and I knew I must bring word to Sir Tyrus ere it was too late." "Armed men? Upon Blakeshire lands?" Lincoln asked with shock, "How many were there?" "Tis the truth, I swear," Hannah said, "But the manors supplies are not lost, though, I hid them by the river and I can go back to get them now if it pleases milord and his chamberlain." "Oh Hannah, you mustn't," Helga exclaimed, speaking up for the first time since Steward had departed, "You'll be killed." "How many men?" Lincoln repeated. "Five score, at least, milord," Hannah finally replied with wide eyes. "Five score?" he whispered to Angharad, "A hundred men at least, armed and roaming through Blakeshire estates with ill intent. That can't be good." "Mayhap even more," she went on, "I shall try to count them properly when I go back to find the supplies that I left behind." "You shall do nothing of the sort," Angharad spat, "Go with Lincoln to find Sir Tyrus, Hannah, tell him what you have just told us. Damn the supplies, and damn the bloody chamberlain as well if he has aught else to say on the matter." "But where are you going?" Lincoln asked. "I will take Helga upstairs," Angharad replied, "Worry not, lass, I'll take care of her." Tears of gratitude gleaming in her eyes, Hannah darted up the stairs with Lincoln in tow, leaving her sister to the capable hands of Lady Angharad. Heading towards a different staircase, she led Helga weeping up to the floor above and into her chamber. The moment that she had closed the door, though, the servant girls weeping stopped abruptly, and she brazenly considered Angharad with a mischievous glint in her eye. "So what's the meaning of all this?" Angharad demanded suspiciously. "Whatever do you mean?" Helga asked with a grin. "You were just belt whipped," replied Angharad, "I saw the marks myself." "What, these tiny things?" the servant girl pronounced negligibly, raising her skirt to reveal the angry red welts, "I have oft taken worse lashings than this, and sometimes I even enjoy them." "Enjoy them? What did you..." Angharad began, flushing brightly red once she caught on, "Fine, I withdraw the question, not my concern." "Oh come now, milady," Helga murmured, brushing a hand up and down Lady Angharad's bare arm, "After all that was spoken together this night past, surely we needn't be shy now. Here now, you tremble like a kitten in the cold. Come and let me warm you." Utterly terrified, while at the same time curious, the Lady Angharad timidly allowed herself to be led toward the bed... ... Treading wearily down the stairs a quarter turn of a glass later, Lord Lincoln quietly pondered the night that likely lay ahead. Sir Tyrus had doubled the guard on the walls, and had them pile bundles of oil soaked branches out near the edges of the cleared spaces that surrounding Blakeshire Keep as soon as he got news of the armed men within the wood, but he reasoned that no attack would come until just ere dawn. Then would come the time when most in the keep would be sleeping, and even the guards would be weary, having spent the night at watch upon the walls. Tyrus had given an order, however, that come the hours before dawn the men on watch be relieved, replaced by other men who were freshly rested. The guards had been told to exchange places by twos and threes, so that it would not be noticed that the guard was being changed as it might be if done all at once. Aside from the men of the guard, Lincoln had noted that the manor itself had been built to be easily defended. The north, south and west walls fell sheer to the water of the lake, so that an attacker could bring no siege tower or scaling ladders to bear against them. Even the stone causeway which joined the manor to the shore was guarded by the barbican, upon the smaller island that sat between the keep and the shore. Before any force of invaders could even make it to the causeway, though, archers stood ready to loft flaming arrows towards the piles of oiled branches outside the wall, turning them into blazing bonfires to light the surrounding fields, denying the attackers the cover of darkness. Caught out in the open, on the cleared slope of the bordering valley, attackers would be exposed to deadly arrows from the archers on the walls. Only then would they even reach the causeway. The causeway was built so that it approached the gates parallel to the keeps front so that the invader could march no more than two or three abreast, all the while straight across the field of fire of the garrisons of archers shooting at the attackers right flank from the ramparts, with the invaders all holding their shields on the wrong side. The outer point of the causeway was the barbican, which would serve the men at arms as the first line of defense against the attackers. Even if an attacker survived the hail of arrows during the charge of the causeway, somehow made it across the first drawbridge and breached the defenses within the barbican, they would still have to storm the bridge to the gatehouse proper just to make it through the outer wall and into the courtyard with the keep itself still standing untouched before them. Lincoln just shook his head. It hardly seemed worth it to him. He knocked softly upon the door to Angharad's bedchamber and opened it without bothering to wait for an answer. He wanted to see how Helga was doing before he told them about the knights plans... ... Angharad sighed as Helga lightly traced the tip of her tongue around her earlobe and down the side of her neck. Pulling her closer so that the feverish heat of the others body could be felt through her clothing, an overwhelming whirlwind of lust causing her to do these things that she'd never done before, the sexy redhead was molded under Helga's touch, their soft tits gently heaving as they panted for breath. Too uncertain to take the next step herself, the Irish lass waited for Helga to untie the laces of her green twill bodice, then shrugged her shoulders do the skirt and bodice together puddled upon the floor around her feet. Following the young servant girls lead, Angharad reached for the tied laces of Helga's own bodice with trembling fingers, slipping loose the light knots that held it. Standing only in an embroidered chemise, with the cool air in her chamber causing her aching nipples to harden beneath the soft linen, Lady Angharad looked at the servant girl, licking her lips with expectation when Helga began tugging upon the hemline. Lifting the chemise over the redhead's hips, the blond haired servant paused for a moment to crouch down and teasingly trace her tongue around Angharad's sensitive navel, eliciting a shiver of delight. Planting a trail of moist hot kisses up over her belly as she went, the servant girl lingered as she tugged the linen chemise still higher, eventually sliding it up over Angharad's head and discarding it upon the floor. The Irish lass gasped in delight as Helga molded moist lips around her own, delving her tongue slowly in and out of her mouth while she cupped a heated palm around the sexy redhead's heaving tits, soft and yet firm all at once. Angharad reached around to gently cup her own hands under Helga's sexy little ass, moaning into her mouth as she held her closer, grinding their lean hips together... Just as Lincoln opened the door. The braw Scotsman stood mute for just a moment, unsure whether he should even believe what his eyes were now telling him, then a wicked grin spread across his face as he closed the door behind him. "Angharad, you naughty, naughty girl," he smirked, "We send you up here to tend only to this poor girls aches and pains, and what do you do? Why just as soon as our backs are turned, you immediately take full advantage of the girls helpless condition. Whatever are we to do with you?" "Mmmm," Angharad moaned, as Helga turned the attention of her lips to the redhead's aching nipples, "If she's helpless, I'm a church mouse. Mayhap a better question to ask would be, 'whatever are we to do with her?'" "A fine question," Helga agreed, beckoning for Lincoln to join them, "Might I humbly advise, milady, that the two of you work together to find an answer to it?" "Oh I'm sure we will find a way to untie things," said Lincoln as he reached up for a knotted drawstring that held Helga's chemise. Loosening the drawstring, Lincoln gently tugged at the chemise and slipped it down over her shoulders, baring her soft supple tits to Angharad's touch. Helga moaned quietly as she leaned back against his chest, her head lolling sideways when the redhead fastened her lips to the blond girls nipples. Nodding towards her bed, the Lady Angharad stepped backward as Lord Lincoln reached down and swept the serving girl off her feet, carrying her to the bed that was easily large enough for three people, as long as neither of them minded snuggling up a little closer. Setting her down alongside the bed, Lincoln stepped to one side while Lady Angharad tugged the unlaced bodice up over her head. Her cumbersome overskirts were next to go, leaving the blond serving girl clad in her worn homespun chemise. With the drawstring loosened at the neck, the long garment was already bunched down around her slender waist, and she lifted her hips as Angharad now slipped it away as well. The only thing that still stood between their sensual scrutiny and her nakedness was the gossamer fabric of her linen bloomers. Laying back upon the bed, Helga lifted her bottom that she might better remove this herself, then parted her slender legs slightly, thus displaying a golden thatch crowning the juncture of her thighs. She cast a subtle glance towards Angharad's waist, then looked up at the redhead expectantly. With sudden mischievous insight, the Irish lass caught her meaning and went over to Lincoln, reaching a hand into his sporran, rummaging around within it until she found what she wanted. Of the many things that Lincoln usually carried in the versatile leather pouch one was an old fashioned, bone handled straight razor, carved with Celtic knotwork. Straight razors weren't strictly accurate pieces of kit, historically speaking, though they were better than those cheap disposable ones that most guys used during events. The light of understanding dawned in Lincoln's eyes as he saw what the redheaded Irish lass had gotten out of the sporran, and he looked at Helga with his eyebrows raised in question. As the servant girl nodded eagerly he opened the door to shout for a servant. One arrived a moment later, but he was startled to see that it was Helga's little sister Hannah. Unsure of what to say at that moment, he could only stammer, forgetting what he had meant to ask for. "Run to the serving room," he finally said, "Fill up a basin with hot water. Find us a towel as well, and get both things up here straight away." "I will," Hannah replied, "But, milord, does my sister still rest up here with you? I had not seen her return to her duties and I worried for her." "Um, yes Hannah," Lincoln replied, "We thought it best that your sister stay here with us awhile. In fact, it is she who has need of these things. So go on down and fetch them like a good lass." "At once, milord," Hannah said, then scurried down the stairs towards the manors kitchen. Upon her return, Angharad answered the soft scratching at the door and opened it, taking in both the basin of water and the towel as Hannah passed them in. Suddenly remembering that she was entirely naked, she tried to quickly close the door, as a scandalized flush stained her face. "Bed her well, milady," Hannah giggled as the door was closed, "She has well earned it." "Have you ever done this before?" Lincoln asked as the redhead sheepishly set the water down upon the bedside table next to the servant girl. "Nay, milord," Helga replied, "Nor had I ever seen any other who had until this night past. I would have mine look just like milady's." "Oh Angharad, you ARE a naughty girl," Lincoln said as he raised an eyebrow, "What have you been up to?" Making no further comment, the sexy young redhead took the straight razor from his hand, splashing gently hot water through the flaxen thatch lying between Helga's slender thighs. The servant girl groaned softly as the Irish lass ran her fingertips through it, beginning to make delicate swipes with the razor. Occasional sighs of pleasure were the only sounds to break the rhythmic voice of the razors keen edge while Angharad moved it back and forth between Helga's body to the water basin next to the bed. The razor cut effortlessly, and in no time at all she had the servant girls trembling little pussy slick and baby smooth. Using the towel, Lincoln swept away the remains of the water with the shaven curls, and Angharad looked up at him with a saucy smirk. "You're right, milord," she said, running soft fingers over the servant girls now naked slit, "It really does look sexier this way, doesn't it?" "Say you so?" Helga smiled, propping herself up on her elbows the better to see herself, then nervously, "Has it not made me seem a child, not yet grown?" "No way," Lincoln assured her, noticing Angharad still sliding her fingertips up and down between the servant girls parted thighs, and biting her lip with a hungry gleam in her eye, "None could look at you and say that you are anything but all woman, just ask Lady Angharad how she likes it." Angharad looked up with a guiltily smirk, face flushed at having been caught idly playing with Helga's sweet little pussy. She mock glared at Lincoln and stuck her tongue out at him. "What a pretty tongue she has," she grinned at Lincoln with a mischievous wink, "Think you that milady should determine a better use for it?" Taking her cue willingly, the Lady Angharad hesitantly dipped her head between Helga's knees, starting to lay a trail of heated kisses along the inside of her thigh as she made her way closer to the blond girls waiting wetness. The sensual handmaid beckoned Lord Lincoln to approach the bed, then reached up to unfasten the belt of red leather holding his great kilt. Practiced hands grabbed the tartan fabric as the belted plaid slipped to the floor, and grasping his hips, the young servant girl took his rigid shaft into her mouth. Finally reaching her expectant goal, Lady Angharad let her tongue slip uncertainly into Helga's waiting pussy to find her already dripping wet. The sexy blonde was hovering upon the verge of orgasm from the Irish girls feathery touches as she shaved her aching slit, and it would not take a great deal more to push her over the final edge altogether. Gently separating her wet pussy lips to reveal her throbbing clit, Angharad circled it teasingly before sucking it the way the willowy young servant girl wanted. Helga now shifted her body, along with the redheaded Irish girls, so that she was lying underneath the other, and abruptly within reach of the russet haired girls sexy wet pussy. Angharad gasped at the unexpected contact, feeling the blond haired servant sliding her tongue in and out of her own wetness, each of them vainly trying to outlast the other. Lincoln moved back a little, watching this pair of smoking girls writhing together upon the silky soft furs as each of them fought to make the other cum first. Never before had he seen such a sight, save for the magazines in his own time, and as he ran his hands gently over both of the thrashing bodies he could feel the servant girl reaching for his rigid cock. Leading him around behind Angharad's hips, Lincoln was surprised to see the servant girl positioning the head of his cock not at the redheads wet pussy, but rather against the tight opening of her firm little ass. Here was uncharted territory, and the brown haired Scot had no idea if the Irish lass would approve. As if sensing his dilemma, Lady Angharad took her lips away from the wetness of the handmaidens hot pussy for just long enough to throw one smouldering glance over her shoulder, sweeping her hair up out of the way, and surprised him yet again. "Give it to me," she whispered. Not needing to be told again, he gave a slight push in against the tightness of her sweet ass, and heard her moaning into Helga's pussy as he slipped inside. There was a moment of stillness while she had time to adjust to the fullness of his cock, then she rocked her hips back, urging him deeper. She turned her attention back to Helga's pussy, and the servant to hers, groaning at the double sensation of Lincoln's rigid shaft sliding in and out of her ass and the servant girls hot tongue dancing around her clit. Wanting to share some of the feeling, the sexy redhead crept a hand under Helga's bottom and gently slid one finger up into the servants ass as her tongue attacked the blond girls pussy with a renewed vigor. Neither of them would be able to endure much more, but it was the sexy servant girl who succumbed first to the blissful onslaught. She groaned as a delicious spark of crimson hot lightning sizzled through her, shattering the last of her resolve. "Mmmm," she groaned into the redheads wet slit. Spasms of delirious ecstasy rocked her sexy physique while an eruption of hot juices flooded Angharad's face, their bodies joined as the redhead followed the servant girl into her seething convulsions. The sensual thrashings of the blond girl beneath her was all it took to throw the Irish lass into deliciously sparkling tailspins of boiling euphoria, the explosion of bright multicolored fireworks slowly receding but building ever higher yet again as Lincoln pumped her ass harder and harder with his every pounding stroke. "Oh yeah, fuck my ass," she moaned, "You're gonna make me cum again, baby. Ungh, ungh, ungh... Aaaaah!" Lady Angharad's cries resounding in his brain, Lincoln gave one last powerful thrust, burying his rigid cock to the hilt as he spilled jet after jet of his hot cum into her upturned ass. The Lady Angharad felt his seed wetly spurting inside her as her hot pussy dripped all over the serving girls face, leaving sticky wet treats for the sexy blond. Letting Lincoln slip his throbbing hardness out of the redheads hot little ass, Helga breathlessly collapsed on the bed, her pretty face pleasantly flushed from an amazing mind bending climax. "Lincoln," Angharad stated, with a grin, "I do believe that we've killed the poor girl." "There is life in me yet, milady," Helga replied, "You have left me most uncertain, though, that never before have you done such a thing with a woman. If tis so you are right truly to be commended." "Silence, wench," Angharad grinned, playfully slapping the serving girls ass, "But that was not to be my only first this day." "Say you so?" "Indeed, tis truth," the sexy redhead answered, "Never ere today have I allowed any man to... to do what Lord Lincoln did." "Milady, forgive me," the servant cried, "It had never occurred to me that you had not." "Peace, Helga, peace," Angharad replied. As her wicked grin came over her face, the russet haired girl leaned her head on Lincoln's shoulder, "I liked it." "As do I," the blonde serving girl agreed, "Mayhap you could do as well to me, milord?" "Angharad," Lincoln grinned as Helga gazed at him with a hopeful look, "I think we've created a monster, else we have unleashed one at any rate..." - X - X - X - ... Standing upon the upper battlements, Lady Angharad watched a chestnut mare as it thundered wildly across the causeway that spanned between manor and shore, her hooves nigh striking sparks off the stone. She glanced up at Lord Lincoln poised next to her but he shrugged his shoulders. There was about an hour of sunlight ere dusk fell, and he could see that the rider was wearing the red and black livery of House Blakeshire, but the arms they bore showed a red wolf upon a field of white and black, this beneath the label of cadency declaring a firstborn son. As the rider passed through the outer barbican then up the road that coiled round the first island, they both left the battlements and went downstairs. They arrived in the lower courtyard just as the rider was crossing the upper bridge, and he reigned to a halt, dismounted and fell on bended knee in front of Sir Tyrus. "Milord, milady," the knight stated, "Allow me to make known to you Lord Nathaniel of Belascye, eldest son of my good friend, the Baron Phillip of Belascye. He was squired to my house after I lost... after Lady Jacklyn disappeared. He is just now returned from a mission of great importance." "Indeed, milord?" Angharad asked, "If by your grace it is not impolite to ask, what mission is that?" "Not at all," Tyrus replied, "As soon as you both came with word that the Ivory Duchess was about, I sent him to learn what he could of her whereabouts and also her plans against us. So, Nathaniel, what news?" "It is worse than we feared, milord," the young squire said, "The Ivory Duchess has not the five score at her command that we have been told, but mayhap much closer to twenty five. As you predicted, milord, they plan to launch their attack at dawn." Lincoln was stunned. Twenty five score would have five hundred enemies hiding in the dark, but Sir Tyrus just smiled wickedly. He did not seem distressed, but they had no more than twenty or twenty five men at arms all told by Lincoln's count, and but a dozen archers. Even if every man, woman and child in the keep took up arms in its defense against the Ivory Duchess, there would still be less than sixty people versus five hundred of the enemy, men trained to war. Still, Tyrus would know his keep and its people better than anyone else. His report now given, and his knight having no further orders for him, Nathaniel stood and went into the keep in search of a servant with some food. The squire had been overnight in the forests, and had eaten naught of substance since dawn. "Let them come," Tyrus was saying, "The bitch and they who follow her will learn that we shall not be easily thrown aside. We are no herd of sheep, to be scattered by the mere approach of her band of rabble, we are the House of Blakeshire!" This last was delivered at a roar that was answered in kind, as every guard and fighting man in the courtyard thrust his weapon skyward in a howl of challenge that seemed to rock the very stones beneath their feet. The sound set Lincoln's heart hammering, and even the Lady Angharad felt shivers of pride running up her spine as the roar echoed around the curtain wall. Sir Tyrus was right, let the duchess come... - X - X - X - Continued in Chapter Three - X - X - X - Story by: MOON DRAGON by my hand and beneath my seal - X - X - X -