It was hard to believe that I, Lady Mildrith Rhys of Capel-le-Ferne, had been married less than an hour previously. But what a difference an hour can make!

Now my new husband, Burke Hollis, still in his wedding finery, leaned on a wooden post on the top of the stockade wall of Hill Fort, squinting his eyes against the sun glare. He followed the pointing finger of Leofric, his father’s bailiff. I could see that what he saw made him quail. Outlined against the late morning horizon were four longships. Their rearing prows and the long lines of shields along their gunwales gave them a calculated appearance of ferocity. And all of us had been brought on tales of Viking savagery.

*

I was sixteen but thought of myself as a mature woman. My father had recently died without a son, making me the heiress of the strategic coastal fief of Capel-le-Ferne, the mistress of hundreds of tenants and serfs. I was born and raised in Hill Fort which dominated the historic coastal town of Newhaven. It featured a fishing harbor overlooked by a hillock on which stood my stockaded fort and ancient interior stone keep.

My new husband, Burke Hollis, was the eldest son and heir of Ealdorman Walter Hollis of Tunbridge, a close advisor and loyal vassal of the king. Ealdorman Hollis had made all the arrangements for the marriage. The king was quite pleased to promote the match so that the fief of Capel-le-Ferne could be merged with Tunbridge and controlled by his loyal vassal, Hollis. My father breathed his last owing the massive sum of two thousand shillings to the Church. On his deathbed, he profusely apologized to me for leaving me at the mercy of the lecherous Abbot of Aylesham.

But Walter Hollis, my new father-in-law, paid off the debt to ensure that Capel-le-Ferne n would remain unencumbered. He doubtless thought it a small price to pay for such a strategic extension of his territory.

*

The courtyard of the fort behind us was festooned with gaily colored ribbons and streamers. Burke’s sixty Tunbridge warriors and gentlemen as well as my retainers were dressed for our wedding, not battle. In the manner of the times, they were all armed, but Burke’s demeanor had them all milling about nervously.

Leofric was a massive, battle-hardened warrior who had fought many bloody battles at the side of Ealdorman Hollis. But as soon they arrived in Newhaven a few days previously, I recognized that his respect for his master was only matched by his contempt for his master’s heir. Burke was the opposite of his father in almost every way – physically weak where his father was strong, timid where his father was bold, cowardly where his father was fearless, and conniving where his father was straightforward.

“By the saints, Leofric!” cried Burke. “It is Danes!” He squinted harder to try and make out the long pennant flying from the mast of the leading long ship and then gave up. “Can you make out the standard they are flying?”

“It is a battering ram, my lord,” said Leofric. “The standard of Grier the Ramrod.”

“The Ramrod?” asked Burke, stupidly.

“He carries a battering ram on his ship that he forces into my lord’s castle. And a rod between his legs that he forces into my lady’s pussy.”

“Surely these are fanciful tales,” said Burke nervously.

“Ask my Lord Guy, the Sheriff of Litchfield,” said Leofric with a harsh laugh. “Who just last year had his castle sacked and his wife fucked. Grier fucked Lady Ardith, Sheriff Guy’s wife, on the table in the dining hall for all to see, even the servants! My lord Sheriff has rebuilt his castle, but the babe his wife has birthed is said to be the image of Grier.”

“Pack our baggage, Leofric,” said Burke, licking his lips. “We are leaving immediately for Tunbridge.”

Leofric now noticed my presence. His eyes rested on my cleavage revealed by the neckline of my wedding gown before quickly coming to my face. He bowed.

“Begging your pardon for my coarse language, my lady,” he said. “I did not realize you were present.”

“No matter, Leofric,” I said. His eyes on my breasts drew some color to my face, I felt the beginnings of a blush. “I am the maid of this fort, used to the language of fighting men.”

Even as I spoke, Burke hurried down the steps from the stockade wall to the courtyard and began shouting to his retainers to pack and make ready to leave. I hurried down after him.

“My lord,” I said, putting a hand on his arm. “Why the panic? We are safe here in the fort. We have a dozen men-at-arms and another score of strong men from amongst the tenants. With your sixty warriors and gentlemen, we have more than ninety men. Under the command of the fearsome Leofric, we will easily see off these Danes.”

He looked at me, and I could see my looks made him pause. I do not wish to boast, but I was aware of my peaches-and-cream complexion and my mane of fiery red hair. My white wedding gown was demure but had been made by the seamstresses to hug my curves in just the right way to set a man’s imagination racing. My bosom was full and firm, pushed up by my laced bustier whose outlines could be seen through the translucent material of my bodice. It also emphasized my narrow waist and rounded derriere, both emphasized by the tight lacing of my bustier. I wore a white choker around my neck, hung with gold necklaces. Ever since he arrived, I had seen him undressing me with his eyes. I saw his member twitch in his breeches and blushed.

“My Lady Mildrith is right, my lord,” put in Leofric. “Hill Fort is set on a height with open ground all around. They will have to come up at us and we can pick them apart. They will not dare to attack a fully garrisoned strong point like this.”

“Then why are they sailing here?” asked Burke plaintively.

“Last night’s storm must have hit them hard,” said Leofric. “I saw that their sails have rents in them, and their hulls look the worse for wear. They must be looking for a peaceful cove to repair and refit. We have nothing to fear if we stay put in the fort.”

“No,” said Burke. “I will not stay here in this flimsy, wooden structure at the mercy of these savages. I have given you my orders, Leofric. I wish to be on the road to Tunbridge within the hour.”

“As you command, my lord,” said Leofric, his tone barely civil, his anger quite plain on his face.

“I will not leave my tenants to be slaughtered,” I said angrily. “You may run away, Burke with your tail between your legs. But I shall stay here and defend my ancestral fief from these godless heathens.”

Burke raised his hand and tried to slap me, but I put up an arm and took his blow on my forearm.

“You bitch!” he hissed. “Stay with your worthless tenants in this pigsty you call a fief. Once you are killed by the Danes, my father will find me a more fitting bride.”

*

My Castellan Oswald and I took a turn around the top of the fort walls as night fell and the torches were lit. Oswald was now dressed in chainmail with his sword and dagger on his belt. I had fastened a belt on the waist of my wedding gown on which I wore a long wicked-looking dirk. It had been my father’s and he had given it to me when he knew his end was near.

“Take this and wear it ceremonially,” he said. “I wish you were a boy and could use it to defend our ancestral birthright.”

It was a cloudy night that obscured the thin crescent moon. We looked at the long ships drawn up on the beach half a mile away at the bottom of the hill. There were a few torches lit there as well, and we could see a few shadows moving about. But it was impossible to tell whether there were ten men or hundreds.

“Four longships, probably close to two hundred men, my lady,” said Oswald. He was a plump, heavyset man whose best fighting years were behind him. “It will be a tall order to hold them off if they decide to attack us.”

“Leofric said that their ships were badly damaged in the storm the night before my wedding day,” I said. “Perhaps they will make their repairs and sail away.”

“Indeed, my lady, they may well do that. Fifteen years ago, your father and I beat off a Danish attack on Newhaven. I am sure they remember that.”

“We will do it again!” I cried.

“It was only one longship on that occasion, my lady,” countered Oswald, sadly.

No sooner had we completed our inspection and returned to the courtyard than there was commotion from outside the walls. Oswald and I ran back up to the top of the wall and found horns blaring in the forest behind the fort. Then a series of fire arrows arced out and hit the northwest tower.  One of them stuck fast in the external face and flames caught the vertical timbers.

“Water!” bellowed Oswald. “Quickly!”

The archers in the forests saw the point where the flames were catching and soon dozens of fire arrows were aimed at the spot. Several stuck in and fed the rapidly expanding flame.

“Don’t worry, my lady,” panted Oswald. “Once we get the bucket brigade going, we will have the flames out. These walls are stout, they will not burn down easily.”

In the ensuing hour, we pressed every available hand into the bucket brigade. All other points along the walls were denuded and even the main gate watch was reduced to a single man. Water came up from the fort’s interior well to be poured over the flames. Slowly, but surely, the water began to win as the timbers grew wetter. There was a loud hissing as the flames began to die out.

Then there was an enormous CRACK at the main gate that was set in the eastern wall.

“I know that sound!” shouted Oswald. “It’s a battering ram!”

Our single retainer on watch was caught completely unaware. Oswald reacted immediately. He caught me by the arm and spoke urgently.

“You must take shelter in the keep, my lady! Find a good hiding place! I will send a man with you!”

“I will fight, Oswald,” I cried. “I know how to use my dirk, Father taught me well.”

“You are a prize, my lady,” said Oswald. “You must think of your retainers. They will fight harder if they know you are safe.”

I realized he was right and nodded. I hurried down the steps to the courtyard, holding my wedding gown above my ankles as I did so.

“Edwina!” I called out to my maid, as I entered the keep. “Come with me, immediately!”

*

Edwina Batten was exactly my age – sixteen. We had known each other since we were children, first as playmates, and then as mistress and servant. She was a pleasant-looking girl with red hair a bit darker than mine, firm breasts, and a tight ass. She had a rolling gait that accentuated her curves, turned men’s heads, and had them ogling her womanly body. Wives and mothers inevitably smacked their erring husbands and sons, and Edwina gained an unearned reputation for moral laxity.

She had been recently married to Frank Batten, one of the fishermen in the village. But much to Frank’s dismay, she preferred to continue living with me in the fort, going to his cottage only once a week. She told me he vented his sexual energies on her and fucked her hard and rough during her visits.

“His cock is thick, m’lady,” she said to me. “But rather short compared to other men. At least that is what I hear from the whores in the brothel. He pounds me hard, always lying on top of me. He gets me excited and wet down there, you know. But somehow, I feel something is missing.”

“How does it happen?” I asked, curious. “Between a man and woman?”

“When men get sexually aroused, their cocks get hard, m’lady. They get SO much bigger and harder! Then they push it into your pussy, and pound you with it.”

“You like him to pound you hard?” I asked. “Doesn’t it hurt?”

“It hurts a bit at first, m’lady. But then I get wet, you see, and it feels good. You must have made yourself wet, m’lady, thinking of sex?”

“Well … I suppose there have been occasions –,” I wasn’t sure I wanted to discuss this with Edwina. “But does Frank give you pleasure when you have sex? Do you enjoy it?”

“Oh, I enjoy sex a great deal, m’lady!” Edwina exclaimed. “But it is just that Frank spurts his semen quite soon. I wish he would hold back a bit, but he's a hot-blooded youth and chafes at his many nights alone. He seizes me as soon as I’m home, tears my clothes off, and fucks me immediately.”

“That satisfies him, I hope?”

“Oh, m’lady!” she laughed. “When I’m home, Frank scarce lets me out of the bed! After he fucks me, he gets hard again in an hour. Then fucks me again, in the kitchen, in the barn, wherever I am!”

“I’m surprised you are not pregnant, Edwina,” I said.

“The midwife thinks I should be,” said Edwina, giggling. “She thinks Frank doesn’t have enough ‘seed in his cum juice’. But I dare not tell him that.”

*

Edwina and I ran into the ancient stone keep along with Connor, a heavyset farm boy that Oswald sent to guard us. Connor was armed with a pitchfork and had a determined look about him that gave me confidence. I led the way up to the upper level. Edwina turned toward the master suite that I normally occupied. But I pulled her in the opposite direction toward Edwina’s own small maids’ chamber.

“But my lady –” began Edwina.

“Hush!” I snapped. “If the Danes come up, my suite is the first one they will search. They may overlook your small chamber.”

Edwina’s chamber was barely big enough to fit in the bed and bureau. There was a small closet and heavy drapes over the small window that overlooked the courtyard. Edwina, Connor, and I crowded around the window, agog. Just as we took our positions, the main gate to the fort gave way and the massive head of the battering ram poked through. It withdrew and when it struck again a moment later, one of the gates was torn off its hinges and fell inward with a crash.

The Danes flooded in with bloodcurdling cries, led by a tall, dark-haired man carrying a well-used sword in one hand and a round Danish shield in the other. Oswald led the fort’s small party of defenders against the onrushing Danes with his sword held high and met the Danish leader.

“Look, my lady!” whispered Edwina. “That dark-haired man must be Grier the Ramrod! Isn’t he handsome?”

“Bite your tongue, you bad girl! He’s a godless pagan! If you are a good Christian woman, you will pray for his speedy death.”

Oswald thrust at the Danish leader, but the Dane used his sword to brush it aside. With the Castellan off balance, Grier struck him with his shield, knocking him off balance. Then he hit Oswald on the head with the pommel of his sword. With all of Grier’s weight, the heavy sword pommel knocked him senseless, and he fell to the ground.

I gave a short scream of dismay at Oswald’s fall, cupping my mouth with my hand to silence myself. Grier turned his attention to another of my men-at-arms and quickly dispatched him. I watched him with awful fascination as he worked his way around the battle, always looking for and engaging the strongest remaining adversary.

The battle was over in less than half an hour. Some of my men-at-arms were killed, but most were only wounded and incapacitated. Grier suddenly stopped and raised his sword to the sky.

“I have no wish for unnecessary slaughter!” he shouted. “I have knocked your leader down, but I have not killed him. Lay down your weapons, give us control of the fort, and let us end this right now! If you continue to fight, you will all die!”

His carrying voice brought everyone to a standstill. One by one, my remaining men dropped their weapons. Grier stood in the middle of the courtyard where the wedding ribbons and streamers were now trampled in the mud. His sword dripped blood. He had a few cuts on his right forearm and a bruise on his right cheekbone but was otherwise unhurt. He was joined by one of his warriors, a huge man, with long blond hair, a dark blond beard, and the shoulders of an ox. He carried a bloody battleax.

“Herd these men into the barracks by the gate for now and barricade them in,” Grier said to the blond giant. “Carry their unconscious leader and their wounded. We’ll send them back to their homes once we’ve secured the fort and get everything we need.”

The giant nodded and rapped out commands. The Danes shepherded my men to the barracks. They looked sullen, but when they did not resist further, the Danes did them no harm.

Then Grier pointed to the keep, and said, “Send some men in there to make sure no more fighting men are hiding there.”

The blond man nodded again and spoke sharply to a couple of his warriors, and they strode purposefully toward the keep.

“Stay behind the drapes, Edwina! I will be in the closet! Connor, you take up a position behind the door. If any of the savages enter, run him through with your pitchfork!”

“I will, my lady,” Connor assured me stolidly.

I pulled the closet door shut but left a narrow crack so I could see out. I shrank back against the wooden back of the closet, trembling. Curse Burke, my cowardly husband, I thought angrily. With his sixty warriors, we could have easily beaten off these monsters.

Time...