The Mercenary's Claim Page 4

  Kirsten was shocked. “Where did she go?” she demanded of Wern. “And how came she here? I thought Gustav had no servants for the manor house.”

  “Well, now, my lady, I wouldn’t say there were no servants, but I wouldn’t say Neslin’s exactly a servant, either. She’s my wife and is happy to help out here till you get settled and Gustav can collect himself some more suitable people. Gustav is quite a collector. He’ll have it taken care of soon enough, you’ll see. But my wife isn’t so suitable as she’s got her own family and house in the village to take care of.”

  “That’s as may be, but I do not like her turning her back on me before she is dismissed. You will tell her so.” Cold and haughty, Kirsten turned away.

  “As you wish, my lady.” Wern sounded doubtful and astoundingly, a bit amused. Kirsten wondered what it could mean, but had no way of asking without sounding silly, so she had to let it go.

  “You will bring the trunks and chests up to my wardrobe room, make sure the bed is turned down in my sleeping chamber, then come get me when all is in readiness, for I wish to lie down before dinner. I’ll have the front room with the eastern exposure, of course.” With that she plopped herself down on a bench by the wall to wait.

  “If that suits Gustav, I’ll see it done.” Wern gave her another hesitant look before departing. His comment gave Kirsten pause. Since the night he had spanked her, he had been too busy to pay her much mind at all. Kirsten wondered if that would continue or if he would now take an active interest in her.

  Her questions were soon answered as a few minutes later, Gustav came bursting through the door carrying the front end of a large bed, another gift from her parents. “Come along, Kirsten! You can make the bed as soon as we set it in place.”

  “Make the bed?” she said, unbelieving. “I saw that servant. You can’t fool me into doing all the work, as you led me to believe I would have to do.”

  Not stopping, Gustav threw his next comments over his shoulder as he trudged ahead of the bed and the two men it took to support the back half. “You met Neslin, did you? Good, good, but she’s not your servant. She’s here to help with the cooking. We do have quite a few people to feed. She’s got six young ones herself, so she knows how to feed a large crew. Of course you can’t do everything yourself, but you will have to help out more than you’re used to. So, let’s begin as we mean to go on.”

  Kirsten sat there, mutinous, fuming, not caring what he wanted. He has married himself a noblewoman, not a peasant laborer. He’s made his bed; let him lie in it. He’ll just have to manage. He’s got other men in the mercenary army. Some of them have got to have wives. Let them come and do their duty by their lady.

  After a few minutes, she heard him coming back down the hall with Wern. “She’ll come around,” Gustav was saying. “Her father is an honorable man. She’ll do him proud. And that mother of hers! Now, there’s a woman. As they say in Constantinople, look at the mother, then marry the daughter.”

  Stung and embarrassed, Kirsten hid behind the open door so he wouldn’t know she’d overheard anything.

  “But she’s spoiled! Used to being waited on hand and foot, not lifting a finger, looking down her nose at anyone who does,” Wern complained.

  “Oh, now, be fair. The nobles work. It’s just a different kind of labor. Their women do, too. She can spin and sew and play most any instrument. And she’ll show me what’s what in that world. I’m a nobleman, too, remember!” Here they both laughed heartily.

  Then Wern observed, “Should we be laughing, though, good sir knight? You really will have to live like them, learn to wear their colors, dance their dances, and not pet their blasted birds. I still don’t understand what we did wrong with that hawk at the celebration.”

  “Never mind. We’ve work to do. The faster we get the manor in order, the faster I can get on with my plan.”

  “You really think you can get us permission to work that land? With you as lord?”

  “There’s land enough and I’ll have to pay taxes on whatever rent you can give me. I should be able to convince Lord Ludolf. We all benefit. That’s the beauty of…”

  The men passed out of earshot, leaving Kirsten to mull over the situation. So Gustav’s ambitious, is he? Some of his mercenaries must be tired of war. Well, all that means is more vassals for my father and eventually a better position for myself. I don’t suppose I’ll ever wear velvet again, but as his wife, the only way I move up in the world is if he does, so I’d better get started.

  * * *

  “You see?” bragged Gustav to Wern one fine morning a week later. “Didn’t I tell you? Coming along nicely, this plan of mine. The woman is working out just fine, isn’t she? Chock full of all kinds of useful information!”

  Wern grudgingly nodded his agreement. “She certainly does make her opinions known.”

  “At least you can hear her coming. That belt she wears with all those keys and blades clanking around. Whoever would have thought it? And she puts them all to use.”

  Wern gave a disapproving grunt. “Does she? I hadn’t noticed her doing much of anything. How can you get near her, with all that feminine fol-de-rol hanging about?”

  “It is a bit like armor, but I manage. No doubt I’ll have news of an heir on the way any day now.” Gustav remembered the scene from the night before. She had turned her face away, as if only enduring what he was doing to her, but he knew better. It was written on her face like the letters she was teaching him to read. By day she taught him to be more of a lord, but by night he tutored her in the art of being less of a lady. They were both making progress.

  She had responded to him last night willingly enough at first. He remembered the feeling of her skin as he stroked her. After a few moments she had not been able to keep her body still any longer, but writhed and purred under his exploring hand. Then, as if she had realized that her reaction might please him, she had stiffened again and told him, “Just get on with it.”

  “I am getting on with it. If you don’t come to your pleasure, how will you get a child? The ground should be soft and willing or the seed might not take.”

  He had watched the conflict in her expression, but in the end, her body had made the decision for her. She had yielded to its demands and let herself fall into bliss. He remembered wishing at that moment that she could bring herself to like him, even a little. He found himself wanting her approval, but of course, that wasn’t really essential. He had her co-operation. That would have to be enough.

  “At least that will give you an excuse to quit her bed. I don’t know how you do it, every night, all the carping and sneering.”

  “All the what?” This was news to Gustav. He sat up in puzzlement.

  “All day long, she makes herself a pest. Nothing is ever good enough. And she does not one jot more work than she has to. Only for your sake does Neslin agree to stay and cook. I just assumed that at night, she did the same thing.”

  Gustav had to stop and think. “Well, I suppose she does go on a bit, but who listens to women? I paid attention at first, but after a while, I just think about the results she’s getting. Things are improving, you’ll have to admit. I think we’ll soon be ready to try having a guest.”

  Wern groaned in mock horror. “Oh, no, please! It’ll throw her into a fiendish fit if she knows guests are coming! Have a little pity, will you? If not on me, then on my poor wife.”

  “All right. How’s this? I won’t tell her the guest is coming. It’ll be a surprise!”

  Wern looked at Gustav doubtfully. “At least my lady won’t be taking off my head all day. She’ll just take yours off once and then faint. But how are you going to get this ‘guest’ here without Kirsten knowing?”

  “I know the falconer at the castle where Kirsten’s cousin lives. He’ll help me arrange it.”

  “Sounds like a plan. And I think perhaps Neslin has got our little Ilse ready to help in your kitchen, if you like.”

  “You’re her father. If you think she’s ready an
d Neslin’s mother can spare her from watching your younger ones at your house in the village, let her come.”

  A smile of pride and affection suffused Wern’s face. “Not that I’m prejudiced or anything, but my Ilse is shaping up to be just like her mother: a warrior in the kitchen, and a breath of spring at the table. Sweet and refreshing, is my love.”

  “You stole that line from the song of the troubadour at the feast.”

  “What if I did? It’s true. The best day’s work I ever did was marrying my wife. She’s dearer than morning sunshine to me. I wish you could say the same.”

  “We can’t all be so lucky, my friend. But have Neslin bring the girl along when you can spare her. I hope to have Kirsten’s cousin here next month. Now, tell me true, has Kirsten been shirking her duties?”

  “That’s what my Neslin tells me.”

  “I’ll be having a word with her on that, you can rest assured.”

  * * *

  That evening, after the meal had been eaten, Kirsten looked around for Neslin to clear the table. “Where is that idle wench?”

  Gustav, a scowl creasing his brow, stood up from his place at the table. “You’ve no call to use such language about Wern’s wife.”

  “Then where is she?”

  “I dismissed them both. They’ve worked hard today and I gave them the evening off.”

  “Then who’s going to clear up?”

  “You are.”

  “That’s absurd! Why in heaven’s name would—”

  “Because I said so.” He went around behind her and helped her to her feet. “It has come to my attention that you have been up to your old tricks again.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She resisted his efforts, but he hardly noticed as he pulled her toward the kitchen.

  “You’re not a child anymore, Kirsten, to run off and hide after finishing a chore so that no one can assign you another. You used to do that in your mother’s house, as more than one of the servants warned me—”

  “They had no right to—”

  He spoke right over her rude interruption. “But here in my house, you will work hard, with a willing, compliant hand, or face my justice. You’ve faced it before, so this should come as no surprise.”

  He recalled the first time he had turned her over his knee for a hard, bare-bottom spanking, knowing that he would be in for more of a struggle this go round. Before, she had been too shocked to fight him. Now, she was wiser and better prepared.

  She pulled with all her might, so he allowed her to jerk free of him, only to catch her in less time than it took for him to find a large, shallow-bowled wooden spoon. Dragging her back to the table, he turned her over it.

  “Let go! You can’t do this!”

  “I can and will.”

  “Someone will see! At least take me to the bedroom.”

  “It’s not in the bedroom that the problems arise. I’ve no complaint to make there. It’s here the crime was done and here is where the punishment will be meted out. If you don’t want anyone to see then quit giving them reason to come.”

  She stilled her voice and her legs that had been making quite a racket kicking table and bench. He pushed the seat out of the way, then pushed her skirts up to reveal her bare bottom. With her in that position, other activities came to mind, but he got himself under control and began to apply the spoon. The first few quick swats were not so hard, but as he went on he spanked with more force, letting each stinging stroke sink in before applying the next.

  “Ouch! Ow! Ow!” No other sound left her except one quick exclamation after each swat.

  “I told you when we first arrived that you would have to work harder than you did before and at jobs you were not accustomed to. Perhaps now you will listen to me and heed what I say.”

  “Yes, I h-hear you! I-I understand. Pl-please stop! It hurts so much!”

  “Are you ready to do your duty?”

  “Yes! Yes! Anything!”

  “Well enough then. First, stand up and put your hands behind your head. That’s right. Now, I’ll just tuck this skirt into your belt here, so. That’s good. Now, you will clear the supper table. Bring in the platter and put the last of the bread in the crock for the morning.”

  She put her hands back to straighten her skirt, but he stopped her. “Let go,” she demanded.

  “No.”

  “I can’t work like this.”

  “You can if I say you can. And I do. And you will.” Holding her wrists above her head, he popped her rump with the spoon again. “Get going.”

  She shot him a fierce look, but took a stumbling step or two towards the dining room before she stopped. “I can’t! Someone will see!”

  “If you’re worried about that, then you’d best make haste. The less time your skirt’s in your belt, the less time there will be for someone to see your bright-red bare bottom on display.”

  He heard her make some kind of protesting sound, but let it go since she was quickly scurrying to obey him. She came in with everything from the table all piled on the platter so that another trip would not be necessary. “There, I’m done. See?”

  “The bread?” He gave her two loud pops with the spoon, one on each nether cheek to emphasize his point.

  She took the rest of the loaf and practically threw it in the crock in the pantry.

  He swatted her several times, holding her arm to keep her still. “Watch yourself, or I’ll get a switch. Now, put the bones down for the dogs and do it neatly or you’ll be sorry.”

  “Why are you making me do this?” she whined as she, with exaggerated care, complied with his wishes. As she bent to place the bones on the floor, he took that chance to apply the spoon to the backs of her legs, in that delicate crease where thigh met buttock. When she tried to jerk upwards, he held her with an arm around her waist.

  “Because I want you to remember what happens to you when you shirk your chores. You are my lady, but you will work. We all have to help out or chaos reigns. Do you see me slacking off? Of course not, and as the worker sees, so he does. It seems to me that you haven’t been setting a very good example. This will change. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes! Yes! I’m sorry! I w-will work h-harder! I promise!” The tears were flowing now, and he knew she had learned her lesson.

  He let her up and took her in his arms. At first she felt stiff and unyielding, but when he pulled her skirt out of her belt and rubbed gently at her backside, she relented, relaxing into him. “I’m very proud of you, my dear wife, in so many ways, but I wish to know that others of this household are just as glad to have you as mistress. If you slack off, how does that reflect on me?”

  At last she cried herself out. He guided her to their bedchamber and watched her undress. “Kirsten, I want you to know that no one would have seen you. I told everyone to stay away from the house tonight. We were alone, with the doors bolted. I only wanted you to think it was possible for you to be seen so that you would pay attention to my instructions. You go to sleep now.” He kissed her forehead, and then left the bed to ready himself for sleep. By the time he returned to lie down, she was obviously deep in slumber. She had placed one hand on his side of the cushion at the head of the bed. He moved it gently, but she did not awaken.

  * * *

  “My lady,” called Neslin from the kitchen door six weeks later. “I see a carriage coming down the lane. Best come and see!”

  “A carriage? Ugh! Whoever could it be? Someone lost their way, no doubt. Or come to make fun of me in my new lower station.”

  “Or could be a pilgrim on the way to the abbey. It’s a blessing to give them aid, you know, to pilgrims and such.”

  “Yes, yes, of course,” Kirsten said impatiently. She smoothed the scarf she wore to keep her hair out of the way while she worked. Her mother had given her this new one, since the ones she had worn in the castle were not allowed to her any more. As the wife of a mere knight, the sumptuary laws stipulated that she could not wear silk or velvet
, so she had to watch her wardrobe carefully. She only hoped it would not be any of her old friends come to pity her.

  When at last the carriage did pull up behind the house, Kirsten let out a squeal of joy. “Frena, it’s you! Oh, Frena!” She burst into tears and threw herself into her cousin’s arms. “How did you get here?”

  “The carriage, silly! See? Are you surprised? My mother thought it all up.”

  “How wonderful to see you,” Kirsten exclaimed, still weeping.

  “Are you going to invite me inside or what?” The two young women were soon ensconced in Kirsten’s sitting room while the woman Frena had brought with her as chaperone and maid unpacked the trunk she had brought.

  “How exciting,” Frena cried enthusiastically. “And how romantic! It’s all over the realm, how Sir Gustav demanded your hand above any lands or titles your father could offer. And how he flaunted your colors at the feast after he had made sure you were his in every way.” Frena giggled with embarrassed delight.

  Kirsten had to pause a moment, seeing her situation in a whole new light. Had it been romantic? Of course not. Gustav was making an investment and expected a return on it. But the way Frena described it did make it sound, well, if not enviable, at least not pitiable.

  Kirsten dried her eyes. “But Gustav is such an ogre. He has no idea how to behave in polite society. And as his wife, I can’t wear half the clothes I used to.”

  “Oh, fiddle!” said Frena dismissively. “What’s the use of wearing velvet if you’ve nowhere to wear it to?” She gestured toward her own clothes, which were a fashionable reflection of her father’s status: higher than a knight, but lower than Kirsten’s father. “I’m still waiting and waiting and waiting! What if my father never can arrange a match for me? I’ll go to the abbey! Can you imagine? Me, a nun?”