Loving the Headsman's Daughter: A Medieval Romance Fantasy

By Oscar Manta

Spicy first person narrative of young Frenchman in sixteenth century. Violent and gruesome scenes as well as sexual content. Depicts love affair between the young man and a mysterious woman who turns out to be much more complex than first anticipated. As he discovers, her familily's means of earning a living bring about a tumultuous relationship which ultimately results in a happy, but unorthodox conclusion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: House of Erotica
• Release date: Mar 11, 2016
• ISBN: 9781785381966

Book preview

happening.

Chapter One

I have decided to put to paper and share with everyone a truthful narrative of several extraordinary events, which indeed I recently underwent and happily survived, while they are still vivid in my memory. I can say first of all, this ribald adventure of lust and mayhem of mine began a few years ago in the spring of 1558.

I can still remember all too well feeling the rigors of hunger and fatigue, while aching as a man likely should, having spent the better part of a week in the saddle. I remember as well the resolute mettle of my horse, Murielle, who was surely at least as tired as I. Not only was she exhibiting signs of exhaustion, I feared she was coming up lame, as she seemed to limp increasingly, favoring one of her front hooves. She was performing double duty after all; carrying me, her rider, plus the burden of my earthly goods, consisting primarily of clothing and heavy metal tools, as we slowly worked our way toward Rouen, where I enthusiastically expected to take a position in the armory; this an opportunity afforded me by my craft- master upon the recent completion of my apprenticeship at Tours.

Considering the fact that my time of employment and training had been successful, and my acquired skills were viewed to be of obvious value, my master in Tours reluctantly allowed me, after being permitted by the Compte de Touraine, to do what a new journeyman traditionally does: to leave the place where his training was received and to travel to a new employer, hopefully to increase and enhance one’s skill in the trade by exposure to new challenges and techniques. Fortunately for me, my master was pleased with me, and accordingly arranged for me an excellent position as a journeyman armorer at Rouen, in Normandy.

I realized finally fatigue was getting the best of me and I would need to find a place to rest for the night; and even more so for Murielle than myself. I was unable to encounter anyone on the road and was unsure if I was on the correct route, or if there was an inn anywhere ahead, so I decided to simply follow a stream I encountered for a distance in order to find a satisfactory place to spend the night under the stars. To my surprise, I saw in a glade ahead a saddled horse tethered to a tree. There was no rider to be seen, so I cautiously approached, always vigilant to be on the lookout for brigands.

I smelled the smoke from a fire - a cooking fire I hoped, as I was feeling the pangs of hunger, not having eaten since the morning, and then only meagerly. I had expected to find an inn, and to have dined there, but as I said, I was now resigned to a night with neither adequate food nor shelter. I saw movement and I discerned the presence of a single individual, apparently in the act of donning their clothing. I thought it somewhat imprudent, yet at the same time courteous to betray my presence, so I gave out a whistle as a signal to whomever it was at the fire that they now had company.

Who comes? sounded a feminine voice.

Denis Babineau, I said, From Tours. I mean no harm. Please, I have some bread. I have some wine. Could I share your fire?

Come ahead. Show yourself.

I approached, and gazed upon a young, rather comely woman standing confidently, her hands on her hips as a sign of saucy indifference. A hooded cloak concealed whatever was underneath, save for the remarkable red hair protruding around her face, and her cat-like green eyes contrasting with the remarkable, but enticingly alluring complexion of her oddly freckled skin.

I attempted to dismount but was stopped by her admonition. Stay mounted, Boy! I have not decided if you are welcome. As you see, I am a solitary woman with no escort - no protection. It is an unwise thing to welcome a stranger in these times, in places such as these. You say you mean no harm to me. How do I know this to be true? How do I, a vulnerable girl traveling in the wilderness, feel secure in trusting a stranger such as yourself?

My lady, I said, please, I have no intentions toward you. I simply wish to share your fire, and perhaps an evening of cordiality - no more. I could surrender to you my sword for your safekeeping, if that would make you feel better.

This is a peaceful place, Boy, and I expect a peaceful night. If I trust you and you betray me, you will rue it. Very well, come to my fire.

We shared my bread as well as some dried apples and sausages she produced from her satchel. Curiously, she seemed rather ill- equipped for a traveler. Her supplies appeared quite meager if she was actually on a journey of any duration. We began drinking the wine I had with me. Soon enough, it was gone, and she then miraculously produced some of her own. After some time spent in consuming the majority of the wine we had, curiosity got the best of me.

I wish to know your name, my lady. You know mine, as Denis. Yours, my lady?

You may call me Jacquette, Boy. I will tell you no more than that. Only Jacquette.

Very well, Jacquette. Perhaps I would not be too forward if I asked you how it is you are here, this place at this time, in the wilderness without an escort, susceptible to heaven- knows- what?

I can care for myself, Boy. I am quite used to being alone on frequent occasions. Never mind me. What of you?

I am on my way to Rouen to work at the armory as a craftsman, my lady - Jacquette.

Oh, you make weapons and the like? she asked.

I do. I have also learned the art of forming sheet- metal into armor - you know, the cuirass, the greaves, the helmet?

Oh, I know what they are, Boy. I know them well, and their uses. Do you know how to use the weapons you make, or are you just content to produce them for others?

I have some skill with the sword, but I confess I have more skill in their fabrication. I hope this is no impediment to your respect, Jacquette. After all, we cannot all be masters of the arts of war.

It is no impediment, Boy. As a matter of truth, I admire you as a man of forthcoming honesty. I am tired of braggarts and bullies. You are a refreshing change to the people I usually am forced to deal with.

How so? I asked, as we shared the last of our wine. How do you find me so pleasing?

Because, Boy, you presented yourself to me with a respect I am unaccustomed to. You approached me as a gentleman, in spite of my apparent condition of vulnerability.

Vulnerability?

Oh, please! You must have seen me bathing in the stream. You must know I barely was able to conceal myself, even though inadequately, before you let me know you were here.

You think I was watching you bathe? You think I saw you naked?

I do.

I began to feel the wine a little too much. My discretion was easily discarded. Ah, Jacquette, I only wish I had. A beauty such as yourself should perhaps be admired as the wonder of nature she surely is. I fear my timing was off. Alas, I was too late.

‘And perhaps, your timing was exact," she said, rising and approaching me on my side of the fire.

She opened her cloak and lifted her shift, displaying two treasures that only could been given to her by such a goddess as Venus herself. She pulled me toward her, burying my face within those gorgeous, inviting globes of beauty.

I felt as if I knew precisely what was expected of me. I kissed them both without any further encouragement, then began to suck her nipples, first one, and then the other. I sensed her hand pushing upon the top of my head. I soon found my lips below her navel, kissing, and then licking the soft, smooth skin waiting there.

"Taste me, Boy, she said with a whisper. Taste me now, and I will do for you. She placed my willing mouth where she desired it to be, holding my head in place, as if there was any desire on my part to not co-operate. I placed my thumb in a place I knew she would approve, then my forefinger in another, slowly manipulating her, feeling her wetness. Warm and pulsating, she soon elicited ecstatic sounds of pleasure as my anxious tongue worshipped at her altar of Aphrodite.

Now, she purred, Now you, Boy.

I lay back and closed my eyes. The intensity of the pleasure she brought me was beyond anything I had known, and I considered myself quite experienced in these matters. I could not have held myself back even if I had wanted to. Soon I felt the intense urgency of imminent release and then profound relief as she drained me of my essence. Even after she finished, my eyes stayed closed. I was unsure what she did with what I had spent, but I fantasized that I knew.

Soon we lay gazing at the sky, she with her shift still uplifted, I with my breeches down around my ankles.

My, my, she giggled. What a strong and brave soldier you have there! He does not retreat yet. Perhaps we should see if we can use him some more, she said as she lifted herself upon me and straddled my hips.

I had been with many women before, as I have said already. Most of them were dull, uninterested whores who were easily hired for a roll in the hay, with no expectation of anything other than perfunctory performance of routine activity. This was not to be the case this time.

I was almost to the point that I felt fear as I observed her in her gyrations of erotic animation - fear that I would fade and fail her - somehow disappoint this sensuous wildcat, this voluptuous orchid from the garden of the fabled Sybarites.

It was with a great deal of relief I realized she had finally met the satisfaction she sought and I was adequate in providing it. She ceased her movement and kissed me somewhat passionately, but curiously, with a palpable air of appreciation. She got up from her position over me, pulled her shift down and sighed audibly. I wanted to say something, but I feared whatever it was I would say would be inadequate to the occasion. I remained silent. She placed several pieces of wood on our dying fire, lay on her side and fell asleep as if this entire incident we had just experienced was for her no more than a routine daily activity.

We were both fairly besotted with the wine we shared, but even then I marveled at her apparent insouciance. She was so unconcerned, so sure I was to be trusted that she dared fall asleep in my presence? A complete stranger?

I met the dawn alone. Sometime during the night my mysterious flame- haired siren had slipped away. Jacquette, I sighed. I had a hollow feeling of loss in my chest. My God, I thought, how did I let this one go?

I surmised then perhaps the entire incident was merely a figment of my imagination. Yes. I said aloud to myself, just a silly idle notion. Things like this cannot happen. Just a fantasy a young man remembers briefly when he wakes and finds he has had an emission in his dreams. Saddened, I walked to my horse, intent on finishing my journey. There was an unexpected item fastened to my horse’s saddle ring: a flower, a sprig of apple blossoms actually, tied with a lock of fiery red hair!

I and my poor horse resumed our journey to Rouen. I travelled the entire day without a bite, and then finally came upon an inn. I supped on fish and turnips with an ample portion of bread and ale. I inquired as to my exact location and was informed I could easily reach my destination on the morrow. The morning saw me on my way, filled again with more bread and ale, and with Murielle replenished by a generous ration of grain I had purchased for her, I was ready to take my new venture in stride. Confident in my skills and usefulness in my craft, I felt quite certain of a fortuitous outcome. I was haunted with the memory of Jacquette, but not so much in a melancholy sense, but rather one of accomplishment. After all, I thought, whoever that wonderful creature was, that bewitching beauty was once mine; for what it was worth, we shared something most only dream of, and some never even dare dream of. I had her in my arms, I had myself inside her. I tasted the sweetness of her femininity. I will have that at least, forever.

The afternoon found me at my destination, the city of Rouen. I presented myself to the master armorer, a man of renown called Romilly. I gave him a letter of introduction which he graciously accepted. I was shown my quarters and introduced to some of the guild members with whom I was to share my working life.

I was able to fit in to the routine of activity with no difficulties. Our enterprise consisted of two major but separate services to the crown. One was the production of generic arms, swords, pikes, pole-axes and the like for the armies of Henri II, the current king of France in this year of 1558. The demand for weapons seemed incessant as his campaigns against the House of Hapsburg as well as chronic problems with Protestant trouble-makers required constant resupply. The second enterprise, the one I was to pursue, was the fabrication of plate armor for the gentry, the knights and aristocracy of France.

My labors consisted at first of the lesser skilled functions I had already mastered. I was aware this would be the case, as no one would be expected to simply start in at a high level operation without proving their skill in the more rudimentary operations. I demonstrated my ability to draw metal with fire, hammer and anvil. I fabricated the various parts of the suit, the greaves and vambraces and all the others. I successfully provided the mechanisms needed for the fastening and articulation of joints, proving to my new master that my former employer in Tours was indeed truthful about my abilities.

My Lord Romilly was indeed pleased with my performance. Within three months he assigned me two apprentices to train on my own. My quarters were upgraded and my food rations were improved. I was given a small stipend for personal needs and an occasional reward above that when M. Romilly deemed it appropriate. I was pleased at my progress to the point I even entertained thoughts of stepping into My Lord Romilly’s shoes someday.

Though I felt respected by some, I felt resented by some others. I detected a certain air of contempt and contumely emanating from some of my fellow journeymen. I knew I had never done a thing to offend any of them. I had been cordial and helpful, never failing to be of assistance in solving problems arising in the day- to- day operations of our shop. Then all at once it struck me. I realized the source of the friction. They feared me. They felt inadequate in comparison to my skills and believed our master saw it the same way. I was viewed as a threat.

There was one certain individual, a man named Sauvage, who displayed the most animus toward me. Not only that, it became rather obvious he was the driving force behind the treatment I was receiving from others. It became increasingly difficult to obtain assistance with lifting or otherwise manipulating heavy materials during routine operations for instance; something that is taken for granted by all of us: the availability of assistance. More often than not, I was forced to fend for myself. I would see my enemy Sauvage standing, watching me work, struggling with a burden while he would smirk at my difficulty, and signal to others to ignore my plight as well. There was another underhanded act going on. Sabotage! I would sometimes return to my bench to find my efforts compromised by deliberate damage. My apprentices, whether through lack of observance, complicity, or simple fear, denied any knowledge of the cause.

I considered reporting the entire affair to the master My Lord Romilly, but decided against it. How would it look? I would be seen as weak and cowardly, like a frightened child taking refuge under his mother’s skirts. No, I concluded, I would deal with it in my own way. I had not formulated any real plan, but I started by instructing my apprentices to guard my work in my absence. There would be no excuses accepted if any further damage was incurred. I told them any failure on their part would result in their dismissal, of which I had the power to cause to