“Wake up sweetling.” The deep voice stirred her restless night, she groaned softly as she turned her head away from the sweet salty smell of the man next to her.
“Just a few more minutes Thomas...you kept me up most of the night.” She jabbed him playfully with her elbow as she rolled over.
General Thomas, the ruthless leader of the English Calvary. A man of few words, but a strong back hand. He didn't let his men rule him, he ruled them. He told his men, away from Henry VI, he was their king...and he would except no lesser treatment.
Arrogant, if you asked her. The men followed him, for they were blinded. A secret that would surly change the way the men looked to Thomas if they knew the truth. Her life was the only thing that kept her from telling them.
“Yes, and those few more moments will turn into a defeat. We have a battle to win, and they need their leader!” He tucked a stray hair behind her ear, leaning over to kiss the sensitive spot. A moan escaped her lips, as her mind reeled..."their leader"...she wanted to scuff.
“You keep that up...General, and we will lose the battle, only to win this fight.” She leaned up on one elbow, her light brown curls fell around her bare shoulders. She looked past his shoulder to the tents flaps as they bellowed, the cool air filling the small space. “Besides, you are their leader.” She saw the men running about, getting food, drinking what little ale was left, and sparring. She would recite the words over and over...he was their leader, and she was a wench.
“As far as they know." He chuckled. "If they knew that you have given me battle plans in the past...they would hang me.” He chuckled softly again as he leaned down to kiss her neck, right above the round mound of her breasts. She couldn't deny the sensation, she wanted to moan, to press him closer to her, but the sickening feeling in her stomach made her push him gently away. Anger darkened his gaze. She knew what was to come. You never deny the General of his play.
Spoiler: Strong Sexual Violence: Read at your own discretion (not reading will not change the story)
He gripped her hand from his chest and forcefully pinned her to the cot, her hands above her head, his body heavily pressing hers down. She wanted to buck him off, call out for the men, plead for them to help her...but it would only make matters worse. She turned her head from his while he forcefully took his play.
"Remember our bargain, bitch! I took you because of your brains, and your succulent body! I spared you during training! If they would have found out you were posing as a boy...they would have killed you!!" With every dark memory, both physical and mental pain accompanied it. Tears filled her eyes. "You. Belong. To. ME!" He grunted the words.
He gripped her wrist so tightly her fingers went nub, and when he didn't think she was enjoying it enough, he gripped her throat. Tears streamed down her face, she gasped for breaths, but that didn't stop him. It angered him more, which made him take more joy out of the moment.
“General!” A solider in uniform threw open the tent flaps, seeing the two naked in bed didn't stall him. What stalled him was the look on her face, the horror she was feeling, written plain as day. The solider, torn between what was right, and his rank, lowered his gaze to the floor. “They have our men cornered! Backs against a stream!” He fiddled with his helm that he held.
“What?! How did they find us?!” Thomas jumped from the bed, the sudden departure of him was both a blessing, and terribly painful. He quickly pulled the clothes and armor, the solider only helping with a few latches in the back. “Sara, I need you at the ready lines. No time to delay.” He spoke the words as he walked out, spitting on the ground outside the tent. The most visual sign of disrespect. But she was...after all...a whore.
She stood quickly, her blue eyes looking around the tent for her simple robes and light armor. She was suppose to stay unseen, nothing more then a wench for the General to lay with. To keep him calm during moments of high stress, to full fill his needs that his wife was not able to provide during his deployment. She hated it. She wanted the men to know she was the brains behind the battle plans, that she alone at the tender age of 28, gave England their victory during the Siege of Meaux...and the 4 other wins they fought. But France...they were stronger, and always seemed to know where they were at any given time. The Treaty of Tours was suppose to be the come back Thomas was looking for. A low time...the French wouldn't expect it. He was too cocky. She told him so. Told him this plan wouldn't work...the stream...she begged him to take a different path.
She shook her head as she played the conversation over in her head the millionth time. She warned him. But he felt this was the chance for him to make the final move...not a woman. Not a whore. She shuddered at the thought. He called her that many times. She was known through the camp as the General's whore...a bitch to sleep with, when one need the release. Luckily the other men didn't devil in those affairs. Her face frowned as she pulled back the flap and looked at the men running about. Most would die this day...that she was sure.
Thomas made a grave mistake, and it will cost him most of his men. She pulled her remaining boot up, and tucked her helm under her arm as she walked out. Either the men will listen to her, or they will follow Thomas' plan and their ultimate death. But either way, she had to make a stand.
Last edited by AthenaSyphier; 03-28-2018 at 10:35 AM.
The Auld Alliance had served both Scotland and France well during this war, and despite the Scottish army being defeated a couple of decades prior, some of the remaining Scottish soldiers in France had become free companies, one such group was lead by Lucas Fletcher, a Scottish knight of great renown, he had even been offered a place as a Scots Guard by the King of France, which he turned down, wishing to remain free to help his French friends in the field where he would be useful.
This morning he woke to the sounds of Duke Archer III of Brittany shouting orders. "WHat is all this noise, laddy?" he asked a French soldier running past his tent. "We have found and cornered the English at the nearby stream, and are moving to finish them off" the soldier said. "Perfect, now I shall get my revenge" Lucas said. He called up his banners and marched his troops to the front line. "Ah Sir Lucas, it is good to see you, are you and your Scots ready?" Charles I, Duke of Bourban, and leader of this army, asked. "Aye, we are ready to crush the enemy" Lucas responded. "Good. I trust your judgment, let's show these English bastards how to win a battle" Charles said.
After the battle lines were drawn up, and the troops moved into position, the attack began. Lucas had lead his forces towards the English camp while the French soldiers fought in the main battle line. Lucas looked over at the battle, watching as heavy cavalry charged the flanks of the English lines, with the Scottish archers he had left behind fired from behind the protective spearwall of his pikemen, and the French pikemen. He continued marching until they reached the English camp, taking them by surprise. Some English knights lined up, ready to face them. The General's bodyguard, he knew they would be the best soldiers here, even dismounted as they were. "It seems these knaves wish to fight, well have at them lads!" Lucas shouted, his soldiers advancing forward.
The fight was long and hard, but eventually Lucas broke through, and ran further into the camp, cutting down the odd soldier he saw, until he reached the General's tent. "Either the General or his tactician are to come out and treat with me, or the waiting siege engines will leave this camp in ruins!" Lucas shouted. The siege engines were a bluff, as they had been left at the French camp, but he was so sure the mere threat of them, and the fact he had broken through, would be enough to convince them to meet with him. But before they could, one of the remaining English knights ran at Lucas and engaged him in combat. Lucas took the mace on his shield, and started moving around his opponent, feinting an attack every now and then, striking for the weak points of the armour, mostly the unarmoured areas under the arms and behind the knees, while his opponent had slightly more viable places, since flanged maces had small flanges that could punch a hole in armour. Eventually Lucas managed to drop his shied and start grappling the knight, they wrestled for a few minutes before Lucas grabbed his rondle dagger and put it through the eye slit in the knight's helm, ending the fight there and then. He stood back up, grabbed his battered shield and his sword, and looked back towards the General's tent.
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