Wages of Sin (6 page)

The weather reflected Jane's misery as the little procession plodded along, Alexander's muffled snorting protesting the dreary slowness of the journey. Her cloak was sodden and her long skirts were so heavy with water they clung to her legs, chilling her to the bone. Her hair stuck to her face in lank rats' tails and her only consolation was that the raindrops disguised the tears trickling slowly down her cheeks.

Behind her trailed old Alice, bewailing everything from the weather and her aching limbs to the stubbornness of the donkey she rode and the impending loss of her ‘sweet baby'.

‘But why send you away?' Alice had moaned, when Jane told her of her fate, and the reason for it. Alice had greeted her words with a rueful smile. Not that she'd had to be told. Thomas's uncontrolled ranting after the midwife had gone let the whole household know her secret.

‘Who's to know your maidenhead's gone, if we don't tell them?' Alice had continued. ‘There's no child on the way to shout your shame to the world.' A cunning smile creased her old face and she tapped the side of her nose. ‘A little phial of chicken blood tucked beneath the pillow on your wedding night and you're a virgin still, with the stain on the marriage sheets to prove it!' Crossing her arms on her formidable bosom, she had nodded with satisfaction at her own cleverness. ‘You wouldn't be the first to fool a jealous husband. Nor the last.'

‘It is my stepfather's order,' Jane had replied dully. ‘And who's to gainsay him? My mother?' She laughed bitterly. ‘I don't think so. He beat her into submission years ago. She may love me, but she fears him more. And who could blame her?' Jane bit her lip, remembering what her own defiance had led to. ‘Not I. I shall get me to a nunnery and repent my sins as he has ordered. No doubt, when this has blown over, he will come round in time and call me home again.

‘After all,' she had continued, forcing a smile. ‘I have my uses. A daughter is a good bargaining tool for an ambitious man. What better way to seal an agreement than by a judicious marriage?' She had patted Alice's trembling hand. ‘Mark my words,' she said bravely, ‘a few months and I shall be safely home again and all this bother forgotten.'

She did not feel quite so brave now. Thankfully her stepfather had not insisted on escorting her, but Fletcher and Cooper, the servants he'd chosen to send with her, were his men through and through. They did not have the bearing of servants. They were hard men, scarred and ruthless, who had fought with him in France and, had he not employed them in his household, would no doubt be picking their living off the bodies of unwary - and unlucky - travellers.

She shivered again, and this time it was not from the icy rain that trickled from her hood. She had seen the way the two men looked at her from the corners of their eyes, with a kind of cunning greed. It reminded her of nothing more than the way a hungry dog looks at a bone, assessing his chances of stealing it. Did they know why she was being sent away? They had spoken to her respectfully enough, but beneath that surface respect was there a lurking contempt? She closed her eyes and shook her head. Of course not. Her fevered imagination was causing her to see things that were not there. No matter what she'd done, whatever her shame, she was still the daughter of the manor. Far above the common ruck. Untouchable. She laughed softly at her silly fears. What on earth was she thinking of? She was jumping at shadows like a green girl.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a relieved shout from old Alice. ‘Mistress! Mistress! See, we are almost at Sanford.'

Jane looked, just in time to see the small town nestling beneath them in the valley, before the rain swept in again, obscuring the view.

‘Thanks be to our Lady for another day's safe journey,' Alice went on, crossing herself piously. ‘And let's hope this inn doesn't have as many fleas as the last one. I was near bit to death!' Spurred on by the thought of a dry bed, regardless of bloodthirsty occupants, she kicked her unfortunate donkey into renewed effort.

Jane suppressed a smile at the sudden descent from the pious to the practical. Still, any haven from the storm was welcome and the thought of a hot meal and a tankard of mulled ale put fresh heart in her, too. She kicked Alexander's flanks and he broke into a canter.

Half an hour later they were comfortably ensconced in front of the inn fire, their wet clothes steaming. The smell of roast meats made Jane's mouth water and even old Alice had ceased her eternal complaints and was ordering the innkeeper about with her usual briskness. A warming-pan, filled with hot coals from the kitchen fire, was already toasting the bed they would share - and hopefully banishing any livestock which was still lurking in the straw of the mattress.

Much to her relief, her two escorts had left Alice and herself to go about their own business, seeing to the horses and making arrangements to bed down in the stable - and afterwards no doubt, to find a bottle, a card game or a woman or two, willing to bed them in return for a few coppers. The latter thought made her shiver. God go with them, whoever they were. She didn't envy them.

‘Dinner, my lady,' the innkeeper announced, interrupting these unpleasant thoughts. ‘It is a poor one, I am afraid. Only four courses. Roast beef, a goose, a turbot and some sweetmeats. I hope it will not prove too unsatisfactory.' He smiled anxiously, eager to please his highborn guest.

‘I am sure it will be excellent,' said Jane, handing him a coin and smiling graciously. He bridled with pleasure as he led them through to a small room, where they could eat in private. Not that it was necessary. They had the entire inn to themselves, no one else being foolhardy - or desperate - enough to travel in such harsh weather.

 

‘That was delicious, thank you,' Jane said as the maid cleared away the ruins of the meal. A full tummy, a few glasses of red wine and a warm fire had restored her natural optimism. She sat contentedly cracking nuts with her white teeth, laughing as Alice tried in vain to do the same with her few remaining ones. ‘Here,' she said, offering one she'd already cracked. ‘Poor creature. I would not see you starve.' She stopped short with a stricken look on her face and Alice gazed at her in alarm.'

‘What is it, my lovely?' she asked anxiously. ‘The bellyache? A chill? The beginning of the ague?' She cursed. ‘This damned cold. Your stepfather - God rot him - had no right to send you abroad in weather like this, the selfish swine.'

‘No, I'm the selfish one,' said Jane contritely. ‘Sitting here on my backside, stuffing myself. I forgot to look to Alexander. Fine thanks for his faithfulness, that is. He was just as wet and cold as we were. I must go to the stables and see that he was rubbed down before he was fed and watered. And see that they gave him oats as well as straw.'

Pushing her chair back she got to her feet, picked an apple from the fruit bowl and went through to collect her cloak from the hook beside the fire. She grimaced as she put it on; it was still damp despite the roaring flames. She debated calling the innkeeper to fetch a lantern, then decided against it. The stables lay only a little distance away and there was light enough left yet in the sky to see by. Hoisting her skirts against the mud, she stepped out.

She regretted it almost immediately. Rain lashed down and a gust of wind caught her hood and blew it off. Tugging it up again she raced across the yard, splashing through the puddles.

The stable was dark, redolent with the comforting warmth of horseflesh and the dusty scent of straw. Breathless, she threw off her hood and shook the raindrops from her hair. Alexander snorted a greeting and she walked across to stroke his soft nose. He nuzzled her impatiently, searching for the apple he could smell in her pocket.

Pulling it out she took her pocket-knife and cut it into neat sections, laying each one on the palm of her hand. He took them daintily, rolling an appreciative eye as he ate. When they were gone he nuzzled her again, hoping for more.

‘All gone,' she smiled, showing him her empty hands. ‘And have you been looked after properly?' she asked, patting his neck. ‘Had your water? Had your oats?' There was a snigger from the darkness and she spun round. A figure stepped out of the shadows, quickly followed by another.

‘He's had his oats,' said a mocking voice, ‘but we haven't.'

She suddenly became very aware that she was alone with the two men. Old Alice was comfortably settled and probably dozing by the fire by this time. The innkeeper, busy about his tasks, wouldn't even miss her. She gulped. ‘Fletcher?' she quavered, peering into the darkness.

‘At your service,' he grinned, stepping forward. Cooper sniggered again in the background. Leaning against the side of the stall, Fletcher raked her from head to foot, his eyes glinting. She shivered.

‘Thank you,' she said, pretending she hadn't noticed anything untoward in his behaviour. ‘But I require no service.' She waved a hand. ‘I have seen for myself that Alexander has been cared for. There is no more to be done here. I shall return to the inn now. You are dismissed.' Concealing her fear, she moved towards the door.

He stepped in front of her, blocking her escape.

‘How dare you, sirrah!' she snapped. ‘Get out of my way. I told you: you are dismissed.'

‘Oh no, my lady,' he hissed. ‘You don't get away so easily. Your horse has had its oats. Now it's our turn.'

She whirled, to find that Cooper had moved behind her. She was trapped!

‘My stepfather shall hear of this!' she snarled. ‘He will have you beaten.'

Cooper's scarred face twisted in a leering grin. ‘I think not, madam. Sir Thomas is a generous man, particularly where old comrades are concerned. He'd not begrudge us our share, eh, Fletch?' Fletcher licked his lips and nodded in agreement.

Jane felt sick. The thought of their grimy hands pawing at her was unbearable. She fumbled at the waist of her gown and felt the hard shape of the pocket-knife she'd used to cut up Alex's apple. Her fingers folded round it with relief and she freed it surreptitiously.

When Fletcher made his move she was ready. She lashed out and the thin blade sliced down his cheek. He swore foully and stepped back, glaring at her, a hand to his wounded face. Blood leaked out from between his fingers. ‘You little bitch,' he snarled, knocking the knife from her hand. ‘You've narked me!' He reached for his own dagger and brought it out. It glinted wickedly in the dull light. ‘You won't be so pretty once I've finished with you,' he hissed.

Jane closed her eyes and waited for the blade to bite into her flesh.

It was Cooper who saved her. ‘Hold fast, Fletch,' he muttered, seizing his friend's wrist. ‘She's still Sir Thomas's stepdaughter. ‘Do you want to hang?'

Still breathing hard, Fletcher slid the dagger back into its sheath. ‘No,' he replied. He smiled at Jane, eyes cold. ‘But if I can't have my revenge one way, I'll have it another.' He reached for a thick quirt that hung on the stable wall and flexed it between his hands. ‘Take her,' he ordered.

Before she knew what was happening, Cooper had seized her, twisting her round to face him. She beat her fists futilely against his chest as his wet mouth slobbered down on hers, one hand groping at her breasts. She pulled her head back, gagging at the taste of stale beer, then everything went black as Fletcher scooped up the hem of her skirts and pulled them up over her head, revealing her pale buttocks and muffling her weak cries beneath the heavy cloth.

A bolt of pain hit her and she screamed as Fletcher brought the plaited leather of the quirt down on her exposed bottom, leaving a thin red line on the white skin. Her struggles redoubled as she tried to break free, but it was useless. She was helpless, trussed up as neatly as a pig in a sack. Another blow followed the first, then another, reducing her shrieks to moans.

But worse was to follow. Even through the heavy material she could hear Fletcher's lascivious chuckle. ‘Not so frisky now, are you, madam?' he sneered. She felt his rampant cock press against her aching bottom and whimpered at what was to come. She began to struggle again, but all that did was push her body harder against Cooper's, exciting him, too.

Hands wrenched at her thighs, pulling them apart, then there was a moment of fierce pain as he thrust himself into her, stretching the soft flesh. Hot and rigid, he pushed inside her, grunting as he rammed his prick as deep as it would go. Knees bent, fingers digging viciously into her hips, he jerked and thrust, his cock sliding in and out, faster and faster. She moaned again as each movement pushed her against Cooper, her tender breasts scraping against his coarse leather jerkin, even through the material of her skirts.

Fletcher gave one last heave and she whimpered as his hot seed spurted inside her. Then, with a grunt of satisfaction he slowly withdrew.

But her ordeal wasn't over yet.

‘My turn now,' panted Cooper. She staggered away from him as he released her, but her freedom was illusory. A push sent her spinning and she stumbled backwards and fell amongst the hay, the harsh stems pricking her tender skin. She tried to free her arms and pull her skirts from round her head, but he fell on her like a ravening beast.

Grabbing her ankles he hauled her towards him, and pulled her legs over his shoulders, leaving her body open and vulnerable to the harsh fingers that plundered her. For a few moments he savoured the hot wetness of her, still dripping with Fletcher's seed, then he took his swollen cock in hand and guided it into her, his buttocks pumping as he took her furiously, groaning with pleasure. For the second time she was ravaged, her world reduced to blackness and revulsion as his unwashed body pounded hers.