The Slave of Lidir Read online

  Once outside the Taskmistress's apartments, when the two of them were at a sufficiently safe distance for Anya to feel they were out of earshot, she stopped and took Marella's hand in both of hers.

  "Marella, why have you not brought my cloak?" she asked, for despite the chains, Anya was still concerned about her nudity. What if they should encounter someone - perhaps one of the guards again?

  "Anya dear, you shall not need your cloak this night, for you must have heard the Taskmistress - Lord Aldrid shall require your services and, like the Taskmistress, he prefers his bondslaves nude."

  Anya was really very worried to have Marella reiterate her destination in so detached a manner. "But his lordship forced himself upon me - you said as much yourself. You said you would inform the Taskmistress, and - and have him chastised," Anya ventured hopefully.

  Marella could only chuckle at these words, and then, realising how upset her charge was, she took her hands quite tightly in her own and shook them warmly. "My darling ... you have misunderstood. The Taskmistress cannot chastise their lordships - such treatment, should it prove necessary, lies only in the Prince's gift. The Taskmistress may certainly advise their lordships, and she does so very frequently, but she cannot in truth instruct them, any more than you or I could." Marella looked concerned that Anya had somehow misconstrued her words.

  "But you said ..." Anya was unhappy with this explanation.

  "I told the Taskmistress, and she agreed that Lord Aldrid was ill-advised in taking such ..." Marella pursed her lips in recollection, "such precipitate action with a novice. This was why the Taskmistress took time and effort with you this evening - to help prepare you for your ord -" she corrected herself. "For your assignment to his lordship."

  Anya was neither convinced nor reassured by this. She felt that Marella, out of kindness, would always pretend to her that things were better than in reality was the case, to try to soften the hurtful blows that fate might hold in store. "Marella," she said, "I am frightened ... Do not leave me alone with his lordship."

  "My dear, you will be quite safe with Lord Aldrid. He wishes only to advance your training." This was what was making Anya frightened. Would he ...? Should she ask Marella? Would she get the truth?

  "Will he want to ... Will he torture me, Marella?" Anya closed her eyes. A little shiver, stronger now, had rippled through her sex, and her flesh had pulsed against the pearl which kissed her nubbin.

  "No ... no, my honeypot. His lordship would never do such a thing. He will teach you certain things, and test that you have learnt them, exactly like the Taskmistress would, that is all, though the methods certainly will differ." Anya did not care to ask Marella to elaborate. "And besides," she went on, "you will not be alone with him. Axine will be there with you." Anya was relieved at first, but then began to wonder why Axine's presence should be required as part of her training; she was on the point of asking Marella about this when she was interrupted by the sound of many footsteps at the far end of the corridor.

  "Oh, my word!" Marella sounded flustered and began straightening her hair. "The Prince!" Now it was Anya's turn to get excited. She felt hot, then cold, then hot again as the cortege approached. Marella backed against the wall and Anya did the same, but tried to hide herself beside Marella's bulk whilst simultaneously peeping around her. The Prince stood out from the rest - he was taller, and more confident in his stride; the others hung back at a distance from him. His tunic was of red and gold; his deep red cloak was fringed with blue, that intense blueness of lightning in a storm-dark sky; his hair was short and brown, or golden - Anya could not now be sure. His gaze was piercing in its strength - she was sure of that, because that was what she remembered most vividly, even though she could not see those eyes, not yet at least. He seemed to wear - so that was what she had seen, there at the banquet - a gold ring through the lobe of his ear, but through only one ear, the left one. This puzzled Anya very much indeed. She had never previously seen a man with jewellery in his ears; it seemed very strange to Anya, so much so that she completely forgot to bow down as the Prince drew nigh.

  The Prince did not speak at all at first, and for a long and timeless moment, the Prince and the slave stared once again at each other, the Prince, looking handsome and determined, and set apart from his entourage, the slave, standing in simple torch-lit innocence and beauty above the partly doubled over form of her governess, and framed against the rough-hewn stonework. It was almost as if, by some impossible freezing of time and wrenching of the wheel of fate, the Prince and slave were equals, as if, in the locking of their gaze, that secret kissing of their eyes, their fortunes had now intertwined, as if those twin threads of guilelessness and admiration had wound together to form a bond between their lives in that special moment.

  Anya loved the strength of character in that face - she loved those deep green eyes, that soft brown hair, that powerful chin, that nose - but most of all, those eyes. And that single earring - she liked that now - she wanted to kiss that ear lobe with the ring in place. She closed her eyes; the thought of kissing him like that had caused a tingle so delicious in that secret place, which was throbbing very gently now with the after-tingle. When she lifted her eyelids again, those beautiful green eyes still gazed at her. The Prince's lips - those soft lips - moved; she heard the sounds, but Anya was not listening to the words.

  Marella stood up, wheezing. "Yes Sire, it is the same," Marella said. But what had been the question?

  Then Anya realised that the Prince was looking at her breasts. She straightened automatically; her shoulders went back; her breathing changed; it seemed she could not control that shallowness of panting. Her stomach muscles tightened. The Prince appeared to gaze at Anya for a long time. Then Anya realised with horror that her breasts must still bear the welts of the leather thong which the Taskmistress had wrapped so tightly round her. What would the Prince think, to see her so disfigured? He seemed almost to be looking through her body, though, as if very deep in thought. Then he looked Anya in the face and those eyes which had appeared so strong and gentle now seemed troubled. His gaze worked down her body and Anya sensed he was staring at her belly, and yet she doubted if the pearl could be seen. The Prince then bent over to Marella and whispered something in her ear. Marella only nodded very gravely, and the Prince again surveyed Anya, and then, lifting up her chin, he turned her head to one side, then the other. His fingertips felt soft, yet strong. Anya, looking down, beheld the Prince's fingers reach as if to touch her brown-black nipples, then hesitate and withdraw - as though, in the end, he was afraid.

  "Is Ildren in her chambers still?" the Prince asked Marella. His voice was deep and soft, and yet Anya thought his voice had wavered. He looked at her again.

  "Yes, Sire." Then Anya wondered if she had heard aright:

  "And yet ... How could such a thing be possible?" he whispered, almost to himself.

  With that, the prince turned and led his retinue in the direction of the Taskmistress's apartments, leaving Marella and Anya looking at each other with very nonplussed expressions.

  Anya would have much time, that night, to ponder the Prince's words. She wished that she had asked Marella, directly, what it was the Prince had whispered, though she thought that, possibly, she could guess. And that knowledge would help Anya through that night which would seem to her unending, and that cruel yearning need which would swell repeatedly in waves of torment and of unfulfilled desire.

  9

  The Longest Night

  The North Tower made Anya feel afraid. It was so forbidding. That walk had seemed so long, down the echoing corridor, which had got darker and colder, so that Marella's wheezing had forced them to keep stopping, while the dampness seeped deeper and deeper into Anya's shivering body. But she could have borne the coldness; it was the sombre emptiness of that part of the castle that had frightened her. And now they stood at the foot of the spiral staircase, and she could hear the night wind whistling against the tower walls.

  Anya was too afr
aid to mount the stairs alone. "You come with me, Marella - you take me up there," she pleaded. The stairs looked very dark, and wound upwards, out of sight, around the corner.

  "You will be quite safe, Anya, for there is nought up there except his lordship's chambers. You need only knock and wait until he bids you enter." Marella sounded very patient; she had explained these things to Anya several times already.

  "But why will you not come with me? There might be something up there, hiding round the corner, in the darkness."

  Marella only chuckled till her body shook. "Now what on earth would be hiding there, my dear?"

  "Some creature - I don't know ..." Anya's cheeks were turning red. "Perhaps a guard," she suggested, for she was well aware how dangerous these creatures could be.

  "But the guards are there for our protection," Marella said, surprised. "A guard would never harm you."

  "But ..." This was not Anya's perception of the guards; she was recalling Marella's words about the guardroom and the fate of slaves who had misbehaved. Perhaps Marella too remembered, for now she interrupted Anya very quickly.

  "And besides, there are no guards up there," she said.

  "Then come with me. I am frightened - of Lord Aldrid too," Anya finally admitted.

  "My dear, you must be strong." Marella held Anya by the shoulders and squeezed her lovingly. "All of this is part of your training. Marella should not need to take you everywhere, for you must learn to show you can be trusted; as trust develops, a slave may gain her little freedoms, and small privileges. She may win favour with their lordships - even with His Highness."

  "The Prince?" Anya's eyes looked brighter now.

  Marella nodded. "Yes - but a raw, untrustworthy slave could never be allowed within the Prince's quarters, now could she?"

  Anya's heart was beating wildly as she rounded the corner of the stairway, but it was not so dark as she had feared, and there was no one to be seen. She stepped back again to check whether Marella had kept her word. The woman, rolling slowly, raised her arm and pointed, to indicate that Anya should press on upwards. A dim light flickered above a door at the end of the passageway. The walls and floor felt cold against Anya's hands and feet, and raised a shiver. The silence was so profound it seemed to weigh down on Anya, making her feel very frightened and alone. And having reached the door, she stood, then turned around as if to run, then forced herself to turn back again. Her breath misted the air and then dissolved. She raised her hand but could not strike the door. Her arm felt very heavy and her fingers would not curl into a fist. Her palm came to rest against the woodwork, her fingertips against the grain, and she remembered very clearly what this man had done to her outside the Great Hall, how she had been so degraded by his words and by his actions. Anya closed her eyes and, for a moment, she found herself reliving that swelling pulsing pleasure at the point at which the pearl now gripped her. That pulsing had almost made her want to spread herself once more against the door - the pleasure there between her thighs had felt so intense and urgent, as if a tiny mouth was round her, slowly sucking.

  Anya swayed and suddenly it seemed the door had moved away as if she were falling backwards, which made her open her eyes and reach to steady herself. There, in the open doorway, stood Axine. Anya was so relieved to see a friend; she opened her mouth to speak, but Axine whispered to her first. "Enter. You are expected, Anya." And having closed the door behind the two of them, Axine led Anya into his lordship's chambers.

  On this occasion however, Axine did not take Anya's hand, as she had done when she had rescued her in that wild chase from the kitchen; instead Axine walked ahead of her, and Anya noticed once again the self-assurance in this woman's stride and disposition. She found herself admiring the slim smooth form of Axine's body - not muscular, yet economically sculpted - those almost boyish hips, those shoulders which supported Axine's small firm breasts, that short black brush of hair, shaved and shaped in such a way as to set off Axine's delectable ears, as if exposing them in readiness for the tentative explorations of soft warm lips which might seek solace in the cool precision of those delicate fleshy folds.

  Axine halted before a second, inner doorway and pointed to the stone-flagged floor, or rather, to a bowl and jug which rested there. At first, Anya did not understand what was required, so Axine demonstrated. She stepped into the bowl and, bending, poured in some water, then proceeded to wash her feet, after which she deftly stepped across the threshold and used a linen cloth to dry herself. Anya had to do the same, after she had emptied the bowl into a gutter cut into the stone floor. This ritual seemed very strange to Anya - she did not see its purpose until Axine pulled aside the heavy curtain that had filled the doorway and Anya was admitted to Lord Aldrid's bedchamber.

  This inner sanctum was quite different from the picture that Anya had formed within her mind, for she had never seen a room so sumptuously appointed as the one that lay before her now. The floor was entirely covered with thickpiled carpeting and furs, which pressed between and tickled Anya's toes; underfoot, no flagstone could be seen, or even sensed - the floor felt softer than any bed that Anya had ever slept upon. But the walls - Anya was spellbound by what she beheld - they were covered with exotic drapes and tapestries which pictured imaginary lands, with unfamiliar trees and fruits and beasts, the like of which the slave had never heard told, not even in fable. There were armoured beasts with a single horn, and a beast of gold, with a neck so long it stretched above the trees; then there were curiously painted horses, with brands like jagged thunderbolts, and a giant cat, and a bare-necked chicken, ten feet tall. The ceiling was domed and set out like the night sky, with all the stars upon it, and though these stars were figured larger than they would appear outdoors, still Anya recognised the scene to be a faithful image of the winter sky, with all the familiar star patterns - the Mouse, the Wheatsheaf, the Great Deershead, and in the background, the River of Snow. There were also shooting stars which looked very real, but the painter had depicted two opposing moons, a pink one and a blue one. This puzzled Anya very much indeed.

  The room was warmed by flames of firelight licking in the grate; the air smelled sweetly scented, and in the centre of the room, in simple splendour, was a very large low bed - a bed almost as large as the huge one in the Bondslaves' House - which appeared to be upholstered in velvet of the deepest blue. The coverlet was cast back so it draped across the floor, and in the middle of the bed, clad in a robe of golden-yellow, was his lordship, propped up on one arm. With those cold and penetrating eyes he watched the bondslaves, and waited till Axine had reached the side of the bed.

  "The slaves await your lordship's pleasure," Axine announced and bowed. Anya, standing there beside her, not knowing what to do, merely copied Axine's actions.

  "So, my lickerish one - you deign to flatter us with your presence," his lordship said quite coldly, and Anya knew then that all her fears were very well founded. Lord Aldrid had that look - his craggy eyebrows, frowning, overhung those cold blue eyes which stared at Anya fixedly, like an eagle poised to strike. "I trust you have learnt something since last we met? Some self control perhaps?" His voice was very stern; it made her very frightened. "Speak up, wench. Tell me - have you learnt your lesson?"

  "I ..." Anya almost felt like crying. Axine had moved away to a safer distance, leaving Anya on her own to suffer his lordship's vicious onslaught. Her shoulders hunched; her head hung down in bleak despair. What could she say to him that would not make him turn her words against her? "My lord ..." Anya's arms were tense; her fingernails were digging in her palms. "I have - I have tried ..." Her voice just trailed away.

  "Hmmph. Well, we shall see." He sounded slightly mollified by this. "Has the Taskmistress prepared you in the way that I instructed?"

  Anya felt a coldness seeping through her belly, for she felt sure his lordship was referring to the pearl. This time, she could not answer; her shame was too intense.

  "If you choose to stand in sullen silence, that is your affair ..." Lord
Aldrid's eyes narrowed and he pressed his lips together, then when he spoke again, it was very quietly, through tightly clenched teeth. "But I warn you - you shall certainly come to regret such mulishness ..."

  Anya now was terrified, and she started trembling. Lord Aldrid suddenly reached towards her and she nearly jumped away from him.

  "And insolence too," he said, and yet it seemed his lordship was relishing the anguish that his threats caused the slave. "Then perhaps, my dear, you would prefer instead to cool your heels in the guardroom?" His smile was very evil.

  Anya began to panic at the mention of that place. "No. Please no ..." she wrung her hands in supplication and fell to her knees to beg him not to send her there. Those ice-cold eyes, now perched above her, sparkled as his lordship turned his head to one side to look at her, in her pleading. Anya could not help but visualise him as a bird of prey about to stab her and then to tear her body open.

  "Stand up," he ordered, very quietly.

  Lord Aldrid reached again and Anya had to shut her eyes to prevent herself from squirming back away from him. His long thin fingertips touched her there - precisely in that spot. He was assessing the pearl, measuring it with his fingertips, by feel alone. His lordship's palpitations of the jewel were so delicately placed that neither Anya's leaves nor hood were brushed - he only touched the pearl - so the tiny movements were transmitted through, directly to her point of flesh. That gentle pulling stirred her, seemed to fire her lust, as if the pearl were somehow coupled through her body, as if a thread of tautness, passing up through Anya's belly, connected to the backs of Anya's nipples and stretched up into her throat then bedded in at last beneath her tongue. Each pull his lordship gave the pearl caused Anya's belly to thrust out, and then her head to fall back limply, almost like a doll's, and finally her tongue to lift and push in stirring stiffness against the back of Anya's teeth.