• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 1254 0

“I’ve got a knife somewhere,” he told her, “I know I do.” He fumbled in a pouch at his belt. “A good knife, too. Oh! Here it is!” He smiled as he showed her the short blade. “Put a knife to thy throat, the holy book says, if thou art a man of appetite, and I am, I am, but I don’t want to cut your pretty throat, girl. It does spoil matters if you’re scrambling about in blood. So just be good and lie there like a nice little girl and it’ll soon be over.” He laughed at that, then knelt over her, his knees either side of her belly. “But I do think we want you naked. Naked is blessed, girl. In nakedness lies truth. Those are the words of our Lord and Savior.” He had invented the text, but in his mind it still had the ring of scriptural truth. He planted his left hand on her breasts, making her whimper. He was grinning, and in his deepset eyes Melisande saw the glints of madness. She hardly moved, she hardly dared move because the knife was coming toward her throat, but she groped to find the neck of her sack and slowly pulled it toward her.

“And what shall divide us from the love of Christ?” Sir Martin asked her in a hoarse voice, “tell me that, eh?” He grinned still, reaching for the neck of her dress with his left hand. “That’s what the holy scriptures ask us, girl, they ask us what shall divide us from Christ’s love! What shall divide you and me, eh? Not tribulation, the word of the Lord says, nor distress, nor persecution, nor hunger, are you listening to me?”

Melisande nodded. The sack inched toward her and she felt for its opening.

“The words of God, little girl,” Sir Martin said, this time relying on genuine words of scripture, “written for our comfort by the blessed Saint Paul himself. Neither danger nor the sword shall keep us from Christ’s love, and nor, the apostle says, will nakedness!” And with that he slashed at her dress with the short knife and, with a twitching grimace, ripped the cloth down so that her breasts were exposed.

“Oh my,” Sir Martin said reverently, “oh my, oh my, oh my. Nakedness will not keep you from Christ’s love, my child, that is the promise of the scripture. You should be glad of my coming. You should rejoice in it.” He no longer straddled her, but knelt beside her as he tore the linen dress down to its lower hem and then he stared with awed reverence at her pale body. Melisande lay still, her right hand inside the sack now, but not moving.

“We went naked, girl, before woman brought sin into the world,” Sir Martin said, “and it is only meet and just that woman should be punished for that first sin. Don’t you agree?” A vagary of the wind brought the sound of shouting from the high plateau and the priest turned and looked at the distant crest for an instant. Melisande thrust her hand deeper into the sack, fumbling for one of the short leather-fledged bolts. She went still again as Sir Martin looked back to her. “They’re having their games up there,” he said. “They do like to fight, they do, but the Frenchies will win this one! There’s thousands of the bastards! Your Nick will go down, girl. Down to a Frenchie’s sword. Cos you’re a Frenchie, aren’t you? A pretty little Frenchie. I’m just sorry your Nick will never know I’ve punished you for your sins. Woman brought sin into the world and woman must be punished. I’d like your Nick to die knowing I’d punished you, but he won’t, and so it is, so it falls out, so the good Lord disposes. My Thomas will probably die too, and that’s a pity, cos I do like my Thomas, but I’ve other sons. Maybe you’ll have one for me?” He smiled at that idea as he fumbled to hitch up his robe. “I won’t die. The Frenchies won’t kill a priest cos they really don’t want to go to hell. And if you’re nice to me, little girl, you won’t die either. You can live and have my little baby. Maybe we’ll call him Thomas? Right! Get those pretty legs apart.”

Melisande did not move, but the priest kicked at her knees, then kicked harder and so forced his foot between her thighs. “Our Henry has led his men into the devil’s shit-pot, hasn’t he?” he said. “And now they’re all going