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War for a Rose: 1455

By: scotjock1



The man was bleeding heavily from his thigh. The arrow had seared and torn through the chain mail that was wrapped around his leg. Blood had begun to seep through the inter-linked chain mails and into the grass as the man fought with all his strength, dragging the injured limb along as he made his way into the nearby forestry. 

"Just a bit further, before I get caught by these Yorkist dogs!" The man shouted in a final effort to motivate himself.

If he was caught he would be tortured until he told them what they wanted to know; why had he gone and broken into the hold of Sir Berren, a banner-man to the House of York and attempted to murder him and his wife.

Bartand was the injured man. He squeezed the injury on his leg. He was a sell-sword, a man paid to kill or fight in battle. If the Yorkist forces tortured Bartand they would discover who Bartand really was: a sell-sword, mercenary to the House of Lancaster, paid and given assignments in this war for the throne. To attack the House of York, and thwart their attempts at holding onto the throne. Henry Tudor was the head of House Lancaster, and he was seeking the throne himself, to wrestle it from the hands of York forces.

Bartand was approached only a few months before, by a messenger sent by the House of Lancaster wishing to employ him into their service in the war, killing those they wanted targeted through whatever methods were deemed necessary, be it assassination, deceit, poisons, disguises and even murder. 

His first assignment was to murder Sir Berren and Lady Berren of House Berren, loyal to the House of York and sworn to use their power to help in the war. If Sir Berren and his wife were murdered and it was made to appear that House Whent was behind the killings, as part of a blood feud going back a hundred years their support could be called into question as House Whent was bound to support the House of York also.

House Berren, in thinking that House Whent was behind the murders, would ignore the war and turn their attentions on their old rival enemies. But the plan had gone awry. Bartand had been caught entering the room by a handmaiden in his armor and weapons, with a dagger in hand and she screamed and fled the room calling for the guards. 

Bartand had fought his way out of the castle with his sword and shield but by the time he got out of Castle Berren he had lost his sword belt, shield and had taken an arrow from a longbow to his leg. His chain-mail could put up a defense, but the longbow was shot at him from quite close, only a few yards away and it tore through the chain-mail on his leg like paper. He had to roll out of a window, into the horses but luckily he had rolled into a bail of hay, thus softening his fall.

From there it was a limping dash through the town's gates, that were manned by only two guards he swept past. However by the time he made it out into the fields of crops, he had lost his only dagger. He was too far away from his drop-off point where he left his provisions and kit, where he had more daggers, his Long-sword and a bow, even a poultice that could heal his injury. But there were just over a dozen Yorkist men-at-arms, a few bowmen and two scouts on horseback hunting for him that were between him and what he sought after.

His only good bet, was to dash into the nearby forest and wait it out for his hunters to pass by him. But that was best hoping, this was Yorkist territory, these soldiers knew these lands and grounds better than he did. He soon heard mutts growling, dogs were brought out to help out in the hunt. He knew these dogs would help their hunt, his scent was out and in the open as these dogs growled. He had to cover his scent, he dragged himself further into the forest and found a muddy pond.

He threw himself into the pond, soaking himself from head to foot and crawled into the nearby muddy patches and covered himself in splotches of the mud, putting some on his face all over his black beard.

He heard the growls of the dogs, as he checked his sword belt. It was empty. He had lost his dagger, his sword and even the small blade he hid on the inside of the belt. It was extremely small and thin, it was his last resort weapon if needed but it was gone. How could he even fight these dogs.

'Better to fight with my hands and fists, than let one of these dogs have a bite at me without even a smidgen of resistance,' Bartand thought, readying himself in the mud for battle.

But the dogs came no further, nor did their growls become louder; they in fact quietened down and eventually they were gone so were the noises of the men-at-arms looking for him.

'Did they give up the chase?' He wondered. 'Why they had me surrounded and caught in this wood'.

Bartand couldn't think properly, his head was a daze and he fell sideways into the mud and fell unconscious. His surcoat and chain-mail now brown and crusty as he lay.

21ST MAY 1455, Southern England, Yorkist Territory

Bartand didn't know how long he was out for, he couldn't remember how he had ended up being pulled along the ground on a wooden shield to protect him from harm. He looked up, his eyes groggy as he saw a horse, it pulled him along the mud on the shield. Bartand tried to see the rider of the horse, but his eyes were too strained to concentrate too much.

He could see the rider had short cropped blonde hair which was very alluring and the rider wore a jerkin and skirt. It was a woman.

He blacked out again, and awoke a bit later, he was now laid back against the trunk of a tree.

He saw a fire had been made up in the hearth of the ground. It was grey in the sky now, darker than usual daytime and it was obviously close to the sun going down.

He turned his head up, and saw the blonde woman tending to the horse that pulled him away safely from the wood. Slowly he dropped his gaze down to his injured thigh, and found it was bound, cleaned and tended to. The arrow was gone now, and wrapped with linen.

"Who... who are you?" He asked groggily, his throat red raw and painful.

She turned. Her features were pixie like. Beautiful eyes, a cute nose, lovely pert full lips and a mischievous face to her. He knew when she would smile he would crack a rib in pleasure. Her hair was cropped and cut short just an inch below her ear.

She had quite a pixie body form, she had to only be 5'2 or 5'3 in height, no more. She had cute hips, obviously not child bearing hips but they would become so in a few years.

He couldn't recognize her, he couldn't place her either. He had never seen her before.

She stood, and she was wearing a grey dress. It was quite tight, the skirt of the dress shorter than most ceremonial dresses, it was cut shorter stopping a few inches above her ankle. He saw she had grey stockings on also, darker than the dress in color. She did not have heels on however, she was wearing rider boots, that looked like they would be good in a sword melee also.

"Who are you... you don't seem like a woman of court, those boots and the cut of your dress says you are something else. Counting the sword-belt on your horse, as well," Bartand moaned.

She smiled.

Jesus that bloody smile! Shes like a pixie or a fairy, shes so fucking beautiful and that smile could blind a man.

As she smiled her lips widened into a cheeky but also innocent smile, and her eyes seem to follow into the movement.

"You spot a lot don't you, Bartand," she said in an Essex accent she had from outside of London in the Essex county.

"How do you know me?" Bartand asked apprehensively.

Something wasn't adding up with this girl.

"Bartand, you are not the only one working for Mason. I do too, and we are both working towards Henry Tudor taking the throne. We are on the same side."

Bartand sighed.

Mason was Bartand's recruiter, he had brought Bartand into the court to the House of Lancaster and recruited him into the organisation that supported Henry Tudor in the war.

Mason was a stout man, old and aged. He had to be in his early fifties, which was quite an age. He must have fought in many wars. He could speak both French and Spanish. He was a war adviser to Henry Tudor and his court. Bartand had guessed that Mason was recruiting agents who would carry out guerrilla tactic attacks on the forces of House of York.

"So why did Mason send you to find me?" Bartand asked.

She approached him slowly and knelt down next to the fire, he poked the wood embers in the fire and looked up. The light from the fire shone on her face beautifully.

"He knew you would maybe hit some trouble... Lady Berren was alerted to an attempt in progress against her life and that of her husband. Mason is still trying to discover what little birdie told Lady Berren you were coming. The castle was already riled up and prepared before you even arrived. Guards were on full alert when I came up, and they seemed to believe someone was already on the grounds. I was about to leave and report back to Mason, but then I saw you escape the grounds and run across the foothills away from the gate. I saw you get hit by the crossbow and I saw you dragging yourself to the forest. I knew once the dogs were brought out they'd find you, so I sneaked back into the castle grounds and set alight to the horses barn. It was a good distraction, the soldiers and dogs came running back and abandoned the search for you."

Bartand nodded.

"I did nod off, after I fell into the pond. I must have missed the wisps of smoke in the trees. So who are you then?" He asked.

The girl once again poked the fire with a branch.

"I got by the name Pixie, or... Lady Lott as others call me," she said not lifting her eyes from the fire to Bartand's.

"Ah, Lady Lott of the House of Lott in Essex I'm guessing. Loyal to the Lancaster's. I've heard of your House. You are a young Lady to the House, your mother would go by Lady Heather Lott. Your father Lord Lott has been rallying his forces under the Lancaster banner. Wait a minute... your father's banner-men are riding for St. Albans, to defend the town against the Yorkist forces. How many of your father's men have gone with the Lancaster host?" Bartand asked getting a reading of who this woman was.

He had indeed heard of her, her nickname in court was "Pixie" because of her features and looks but she was known as younger Lady Lott as her mother Heather still lived. He also knew her father swore allegiance and fealty to Henry Tudor.

It was the eve before the march to St Albans, and it was known in court and in the lands that a Lancaster host was en route to the town to defend it from Yorkist attack.

"My father sent 300 banner-men of his to aid the march to St Albans, about 150 men-at-arms, 50 pike-men, 50 archers and 50 horseback. Its not much of a force but put with Henry's host, it numbers about 2,000. I can only hope my father's forces and the Lancaster host can rally the approaching Yorkist forces or we will lose St Albans," Lady Lott said.

Lady Lott turned around to grab another log, when she fell forward gently but as she did her grey short dress rode up the back of her legs in front of Bartand. The light from the fire illuminated the sight; her dress rode up exposing the tops of her dirty grey stockings. Around the tops of her stockings, were black rings. Bartand's eyes followed further up, her fuller thighs led up to the bottom of her buttocks.

Bartand's thick hairy cock hardened in his breeches underneath his chain-mail. Lady Lott attempted to pull down the back of her dress feebly with her hand, but it caused the dress to bunch up and bounce even higher now exposing her full buttocks. The higher the dress rode, the more obvious it was she was not wearing undergarments to hide her sex.

'God she is young, she can only be ten and ten together. God her buttocks are ripe, and young. Does she not know I can see her bottom, god I can even make out the lips of her womanhood. Bet I could slide up inside her with pleasure, and open her rose wide...'

At that moment she even made the sight even more erotic, spreading her legs in the dirt, her knees parting. Her stockings got dirtier and darker from the earth.

'Would she scream? If I grabbed her, pinned her down over that log there and mount her. She's teasing me for a reason, shes not a dumb stupid girl she knows what I am seeing right now, the dirty bitch...'

However before he could think anymore of it, maybe even attempt what he had thought of, Pixie closed her legs and sat up turning with the log in hand and she threw it into the fire. She pulled the dress down again to cover her legs.

"If Henry loses St Albans, it will be a bad loss to the cause much less the start of this war. Its all been faints, and battlefield poses, but no battles. This could be the first, and then this war will be in full swing. No need then for our underhand tactics," Bartand said.

Pixie gently laughed.

"Mason spoke to me about this, if open war is declared at St Albans then the Lancaster's will have even more use for us. They will want Lords killed off, those who lead the armies. Threaten their families, or even put the hurt on them then the Lords may back down from their allegiances to Richard the Third. When their own families and holdings are under threat. You are a Sell-sword, there will always be a use for you in this war. For me, I'm an agent. If Mason gives me a target I'll go to that target and kill them."

Bartand nodded.

"Only thing that will change when this war is finally declared is we will actually most likely face the Yorkist's in open battle. At least I will," Bartand mused gently poking his linen wrapped wound and it was painful, but not so bad as it was earlier on.

Pixie looked him over.

"Your accent Bartand, you aren't English are you?" She asked but not in a tone of persecution.

"No, I'm from Scotland. But I've always been a Sell-sword, and fought all my life since birth. In the Clan wars and feuds up North, then when I knew I could make some coin from it I came down from the border and began to ply my trade in Wales, England and Ireland. That's how I got my reputation, for Mason to notice."

Pixie smiled gently.

"I don't mind, I like Scots," she said gently grinning.

Bartand hardened in his breeches once again, when she looked at his waist.

"You lost your sword-belt in the forest, you're without weapons. We can't have that, not if we are to face this open war."

Pixie stood and went to the horse tied to the trees, and opened the sack slung over the horse's back. She pulled a brown sword-belt, and in the largest scabbard on it was a short-sword. In another smaller scabbard on the other side of the belt hung a dagger. She stepped towards the fire a few steps and threw the belt at Bartand. It landed right next to him with a crash. Bartand leaned over and lifted the sword-belt into his lap and pulled from the short-sword scabbard the sword.

"King's steel, war hammered. Mason told me to bring you a sword-belt in case you lost yours in a fight. Dagger is the same make, King's Steel also," said the girl. She sat back down on the log in front of the fire.

"We should sleep. The battle may happen tomorrow, and if it is so then these foothills are going to be busy with soldiers and battle lines."

Bartand nodded, and he watched Pixie pull from nearby to her a ragged blanket, and wrapped it around her laying on her side on the earth. Bartand looked to his own side, and found a similar one. She had come prepared and he pulled it around himself to warm himself against the cold. The cold began to seep at his sides, but the fire did its best to ward it off.

22ND MAY 1455, Southern England, Yorkist Territory

Bartand awoke to the sound of rushing horses, and sat up to see the commotion. The horses were not nearby but the volume of them had shaken the ground hard. There were 50 mounted cavalry and they were hauling towards somewhere, but they didn't seem to notice a young girl and man sat around a now dead fire, perhaps believing them to probably be daughter and father travelling.

"What in bleeding hell is going on?"

It had to be mid-day as it was quite light out.

Bartand saw Pixie running back across the foothill towards him, and she sat down on the log in front of the fire.

"I spoke to the cavalry, word has come back from St Albans. Henry Tudor has been injured, and the defensive host he took with him to St Albans has been broken. Yorkist forces broke through the defenses and took them unawares. Everyone is pulling back, those horses are en route to St Albans to further defend the town from a counter-attack by Henry's forces."

Bartand struck the hearth beneath him with his fist.

"A bloody Yorkist victory, what of Henry Tudor's condition?" Bartand asked.

Pixie got her breath back.

"Last I heard he took an arrow to the neck, no more than that is known."

Bartand was surprised, if Henry Tudor was injured with a bolt in his neck how could he survive? This war seemed over before it had even begun.

"We need to get out of here, with all of these forces on the move all we need is someone recognizing me or you, they would know my family are aligned with House Lancaster. They'll hang you, and hold me ransom for my father to pay to have me back," Lady Lott explained, as Bartand's eyes wandered all over her nubile pixie form beneath her grey dress.

It was dirty, but it's effect on the beauty was still strong.

Her strongly bright blond hair shone, and the shortness of it cropped gave her face a cute border that really showed her eyes and smile.

"Where do we go then?" Bartand asked.

"Out of Yorkist territory, they will see this as a win for their cause. Richard the Third will be looking to expand on this victory, if Henry Tudor should die from his injury I do not think we should be around when word is spread. They will hang and behead all supporters to House Lancaster," Pixie said kicking the dead fire with her boot, breaking up the burnt oak to hide its existence, by kicking soil over it.

Bartand attempted to stand, and he almost fell but Pixie helped him keep his balance as he stood.

"Your leg is in a bad way, Sell-sword, better I ride the reigns and you hold onto me from behind," Pixie said, as he waddled over to the horse, clipping his sword belt on to his waist.

She helped Bartand onto the horse first, and he slid to the back of the horse. As Lady Lott did not weigh much, she would be able to sit in front of Bartand, and ride. She was about to help herself onto the horse, as Bartand leaned down wrapping his big thick arms around her waist and lifted her like a bale of hay weighing nothing. He seated her in front of himself, in the saddle.

She felt a tingling in her tummy as he lifted her, only one had ever lifted her like this and it was her father but that was when she was a baby. As Bartand lifted her up, she felt something she had never felt before. The safety of his arms, and the feel of his strong arms around him. She felt herself dampen, in a way only one stable boy had done to her when she was younger in the Manor House stables of her father.

Even then the boy didn't know what he was doing, and kept jabbing his fingers inside her roughly causing more pain than pleasure, but she did feel some pleasure and it was the only time she ever did in that way. The pleasure was here now, saddled in front of this Scottish Sell-sword. Pixie kicked the horse's side to gird it into movement, and they were off galloping fast over the foothills and past the keep and castle belonging to House Berren.

It was a few miles on foot, it had to be they, were breaking ground to avoid Yorkist forces.

They soon found an inn with a stable to tie up the horse. Bartand was first off the horse, with a grunt of pain after landing on his feet. He helped Lady Lott off the animal, the town seemed quaint and quiet and they took all the belongings off of the mare.


War for a Rose: 1455



They made their way to the tavern known as the Hangman's Noose with a noose as the symbol of the tavern. They entered the tavern, and soon found the townspeople inside drinking merrily and happily.

They soon entered, as people gave them curious looks, mainly to Bartand's injured leg and the sultry beautiful women with him. They hadn't recognised her as a Lady of Noble birth as yet.

They sat down at the wooden bar, the lady bar-woman was a large wench. Big breasts, and chest, very large child bearing hips, and short legs. She had red hair cropped that stopped just before her shoulders, and had blue eyes. She had a plain face but it was what she had under her neck that interested men.

"Right what will you have miss?" She asked the unknown Lady Lott thinking she was just a common girl.

Before Pixie could reply, a loud bustle of noise erupted.

"I'd like your lips around my big ol' cock matron Gelda." The drunken man was laughing with a mug of ale in his hand laughing with a group of townsmen.

They all laughed as matron Gelda, the large busty woman of the tavern sighed,shouting.

"I'll have none of that in here Williams, or should I have my son beat you over the head with his spade. I'll be sucking no ol' cock in my time, I've done enough of that in my life. Besides I assure you I couldn't fit that ol' cock of yours in my mouth, Williams, your lady-wife always complains you are too small for her even."

The man's friends laughed and humiliated him as Gelda turned back to Pixie. It eventually dawned on Pixie that it was only matron Gelda and herself were the only women in the whole tavern surrounded by men.

One bawdy hairy large man stood with a mug of ale in hand, a piece of mutton in the other wearing a surcoat and chain mail.

"I bet I could spear you with my ol' cock Gelda, make you scream and cream at the w'ole same time." He laughed, grabbing his bulge with his hand holding the mutton leg.

Gelda gave him a scornful stare.

"Only way that ol' cock will come near me Gerald, is if I have to cut it to make a piece of dinner for the dogs outside."

Bartand spotted the large man, on his surcoat was a shield of arms that showed his loyalty to a lowly House that he could not name, but he knew it was indeed loyal to the Yorkist cause.

"Banner-men to the House of York, either back from St Albans or fresh for battle from their lords." Bartand thought to himself quietly.

Bartand leaned close to Pixie and whispered.

"We need to be careful here, there are soldiers here loyal to the Yorkist cause. We need to keep our heads down," he said pulling back.

The large man wore a sword-belt around his waist, and sat back down laughing at Gelda's comment.

Finally Gelda the matron of the tavern turned to Pixie and Bartand, speaking to the girl.

"Sorry about that miss, now what can I get ya'?" She asked her big bosom sticking out as she leaned to hear what Pixie had to say.

Pixie leaned forward gently to speak, over the ruckus caused by the loud drunken townsmen.

"A bed for the evening, Matron, and a meal and ale for us both. How much will it be for that?" Pixie asked, taking out a coin purse from inside her bodice.

Bartand attempted to get a better look down the front of the dress, but she was quick as flash pulling it out.

"A gold for you both, if you have a horse I'll have my son tend to it for you, miss and sir," Gelda said taking the golden coin from Pixie, and she bit on it to test its value and smiled.

'I can see why every man in here keeps flirting with this matron, biggest set of udders I've seen on a woman, and very inviting lips I could have pursed around my big manhood as she sucked me for her dear life as I pumped her head up and down by her bright red hair. Wonder if she has a nice red bush around her hole?' Bartand silently mused.

Her dress was plain blue, the bodice beneath it was obviously constricting around her as it pushed her bosoms up high and prominently to anyone looking. She looked like it was causing her exhaustion, beads of sweat on the tops of her breasts, and her forehead but still she looked like she promised a good fuck at the least.

"This will get you some mutton, potatoes, bread and gravy. Some tasteful wine for you, miss, and ale for you, sir. Were quite renowned in these parts for our ale," said the buxom innkeeper putting the coin in her own coin purse dangling on her belt.

"Sam! Go get me some of the mutton off the stove, and some veg!" She called to her son, a redheaded boy who could only be 15 or 16 at most. He nodded and ran into the back of the tavern.

Gelda turned to Pixie and spoke.

"As for the bed I can only give you a large double bed, usually held for couples or married. If that suits you miss, and sir?" She asked.

This surprised both of them. Bartand thought Pixie would recoil in horror at having to share a bed with a dirty sell-sword. The same thought struck Pixie, if Bartand wasn't interested in sharing a bed for her.

"OK... we'll take thee' double," Bartand said in his Scottish accent, speaking for the first time in the tavern.

Matron Gelda turned to Bartand, and smiled.

"A Scot, come down from the Highlands. You looking to involve yourself in the war down ere'?" She asked.

Bartand saw her eyeing up the sword-belt on his hip, and the chain-mail.

Bartand had to think quick.

"No, I was a trader. Once I was a soldier up north, now I just hope to survive this war down here. Always better ta' come armed than not."

The matron nodded asking no more inquisitive questions.

But Pixie surprised Bartand with her own questions for the Matron.

"Any word back from St Albans?" She asked.

"Yes in fact." She smiled taking an empty mug and leaned forward to pour ale into the clay mug for Bartand, surprisingly aiming her hanging low chest towards Bartand.

As she poured into the mug, she let her udders hang and Bartand finally got to see her pink aureoles, so large and round for her big bosoms. They were huge udders, too big to even grab hold on in a single hand. 

Lady Lott noticed what the matron was doing to Bartand, and she tried to ignore it as it was making her envious of the attention the matron was getting from Bartand.

"The news matron?" Pixie asked once more.

"Last bit of news we got from the field, came from those soldiers over there in the corner. They were there at the battle, only arrived mid-day today speaking of victory over the House of Lancaster. The soldiers surprised the Lancaster host already there, broke into the town through some gardens and caught the soldiers there unawares. Afterwards they went into the King himself's tent and found Henry injured, and suffering... I would call it an episode of the mind. He was acting out, when they arrived."

"So?... The King has been captured?" Pixie asked the matron.

"Indeed, also the Earl of Somerset was killed in the charge led by the Earl of Warwick. There is talk of restoring the captured King Henry to full power as protector of the realm," Matron Gelda said as she slid the full tankard of ale across the counter to Bartand giving him a cheeky smile. As she did she picked up a bottle of wine and poured into a clay goblet for Pixie.

Bartand looked around the tavern, and spotted the group of soldiers Matron Gelda spoke of, now back from St Albans. The soldiers had blood droplets on their tunics, surcoats and armors. Even on their faces, dried into their skin and beards.

"So what will happen now?" Asked Pixie sipping the wine given to her by the matron.

"Well, with the victory at St Albans, the capture of the King by Richard the Third of York, and the death of Duke of Somerset it's bad news I believe for the Lancaster loyalists. Even the second Earl of Northumberland and Lord de Clifford both fell in the rout of the battle. The Lancaster Loyalists are fast running out of supporters," Matron Gelda said.

Gelda left the note of that with Pixie, and shouted out to her son.

"Sam! Get in here and tend the tavern, I need to go out and check on the mares. Miss, your food, my son will serve for you and sir. I shall be back in a few," she said leaving through the backdoor of the tavern

Watching her Bartand saw it was dark outside now.

"My the grace of god, the King lives," Pixie said exasperated.

"But he is in Yorkist hands, meaning they control the realm now or at least they will for the foreseeable future," Bartand added, but his attentions were on matron Gelda now outside, all alone.

"Pixie I need to go out, and clear my head. I also need to take a piss. I'll be back soon."

Feeling strength in his legs once again, and also in his hardening cock, he walked out of the front door of the tavern, leaving Pixie, and came around the side of the tavern, outside now cold and dark, and through the small garden fenced off around the grounds.

He followed the wall of the tavern around to the back where the stable was, and where the mares were tied up. He saw Gelda, who had her back to him tending to a mare, feeding it. The back door of the tavern was slightly open and so he closed it over slowly. Gelda was stood out of sight of the road, outside leading through the town past the tavern, more to the wall of the stables.

He was now ready to act.

He dropped his cloak that Pixie had given him, and laid it to the floor. Now in his surcoat, and dirty tunic unmarked with no symbol of allegiance, he slowly crept up behind her.

The dry ground helped him, as it allowed little noise. He came up closer to her, her big bottom in the dress right in front of him, her voluptuous form and hips.

He crept up behind her, now almost touching her he knelt as he moved and stood he brought his right arm around her hip and up, before she could do anything his hand was over her mouth.

His left hand grabbing her left hand and pulling it against her side tightly to stop herself moving.

"Do not make a move matron, you will do as I tell you exactly as I say it understand?" He said sternly.

She nodded eagerly at the gruff voice of the Scots merchant.

"Now into the stable, behind the piled up bales of hay. Quickly," he said.

She moved slowly but soon she was prodding along with him behind her into the barn.

Soon they were out of sight, except from the mares and horses tied up nearby.

"Now spread your legs matron, do it," he said, she slowly shuffled her legs wider. He noticed she had on dark blue stockings.

"I'm going to remove my hand now understand."

She nodded and he removed it.

She turned to face him, her big face and red hair a mess. She was smiling.

"Hello my bonnie Scotsman, you didn't have to do all this all you had to do was ask me to come out and see you."

Bartand smiled.

"You know how we Scots are, we always kidnap busty bosom women such as yourself."

She laughed gently and quietly to make sure no one heard.

"Did all that talk of me refusing to suck those men's cocks in their get you rowdy? Get you jealous, huh?" She smiled.

"Don't tease Matron." Bartand said.

Gelda smiled again and placing her hands on her big hips.

"Why not, you intended to kidnap me and whisk me away to mine own stables and ravish me. I think I should tease you, but I'm not like that," she grinned.

Bartand pulled her roughly closer to him by her skirts.

He grabbed her head from the back, curling his hand in among her red curls and pulled her into him kissing her deep on her pink pert lips.

He felt her drop her hand from his belt slowly down around his bulge in his breeches, and grasp it firmly.

"That's not small, far from it, Sir. That indeed is a cock I haven't had before, I may not be able to fit inside me or my mouth," she smiled saucily.

Bartand said nothing as he undid her strings on her bodice, but she stopped him.

"It will take me an age to redo them up again, here," she said, pulling down the top of the dress letting her massive udders hang out over the dress's neck plummet.

She felt the coarse cloth rubbing her big aureoles and nipples, making them harden.

He quickly dived in sucking on one her breasts, milking it hard like a child at a woman's teat. All the while as Gelda struggled to undo Bartand's battle breeches. Soon she had them undone, and slid her hands into them and found his thick cock. It was about seven inches and quite thick, and hairy around his sac. She took hold of the sides of the breeches and slid them down his legs, stopping just above his knees. It was fully out and erect, the bulbous head oozing pre-cum as she stroked it as Bartand continued to suck her teats.

All the while, Gelda's eyes were on the road, and the backdoor to the tavern opening suddenly.

"Down matron, time to suck me ol' cock," he said pushing her down by her shoulders firmly until she was resting on her knees in the dirt. Her stockings were growing dirty but she didn't mind as she took his cock closer to her lips, and like an animal hungry for feed shoved her whole mouth onto it. Sliding the length into her mouth, it hurt at first, (she was used to smaller cocks) but she worked it in fast getting her lips down mid-shaft.

She felt her hands grabbed by Bartand and forced palm down on top of her head, he held them there firmly as he began to face fuck her. She had no control as he thrust menacingly in and out of her mouth, finally accepting his big cock she relaxed her mouth and kept it wide open for him. Beads of sweat ran down her forehead, and neck as she was gagged on this tremendous piece of meat.

Gelda's husband had left many years before for war, and had never returned leaving her just a son. Even when her son was born she was a large busty bosom woman, and she had every man's eye in the town. She wasn't inclined at first, but she dabbled and soon found the town was wanting for larger men, more robust men, men who could fuck her for her worth. But she always came up short, except some soldiers from all over the Realm that passed through the town. Then she tasted them, some men from the North, others from the East. Men from Wales, men from Ireland and men from Scotland.

Bartand was her first Scotsman in years, even then the one she had back then did not match up to Bartand.

She wanted him to have full control over here, she missed that from her departed husband who used to keep her under control in the bedroom. Since he left she had grown more comely, building up the tavern and its business.

Bartand held her steady on his cock, pulling her head in so her whole throat filled up with his meat. Gelda gagged, trying to break free but she was loving the feeling once more. She used her tongue to run up and down his shaft as she felt dizziness over take her, close to falling unconscious but Bartand pulled out still holding her hands to her head. He pulled back and she coughed, getting her breath back, as spittle ran down her chin and onto her heaving hanging breasts.

"I've never had a man like you Sir, you are something else an'all," she gasped.

"This what you miss matron, from your husband, from these men in this town?" He said slapping her cheeks gently with his rod.

She smiled.

"I knew there was something about you, Scotsman, moment you entered my tavern. That girl you travel with, is she getting this treatment?" She asked.

Bartand smiled, wishing he was giving Pixie what Gelda was getting .

"Soon maybe, I hope she will." He said.

Gelda laughed gently, and coughed.

"If she knew what your breeches carried she would be begging for this treatment from you, sir," she said.

He smiled and rammed his cock back home into her open moist mouth, and began to pump in and out again making Gelda's eyes close and water.

He pulled out soon after and pushed Gelda onto a bale of hay releasing her hands.

He lifted her thick homely thighs and feet into the air, she had roughly made shoes and he lifted her legs onto his shoulders so they hung over his wide back..

He lifted up her skirts, her dark blue woolen stockings now dirty and with some spittle dripping down them to her feet he pulled the skirts up, and found her undergarments. He tore them off almost down her legs and off.

Her moist fat puffy hole lay presented to him, her vagina was sopping wet, and red from the wetness leaking from her. Above her vagina's lips was a thick red bush. Bartand smiled touching it gently, as he positioned her legs higher, and her vagina to his cock, her bottom bounced as he lifted, her landing on the hay.

He stroked his rock hard cock, and pressed into her vagina, and she opened slowly as he slid in before taking a pull back he hammered inside her fully with one thrust.

"AH god above, have mercy on my loins," she gasped as he slid in and out at first, slowly at first he pulled back like a well oiled machine before ramming in with all his strength into her.

"Jesus, sir, you are impaling me on your manhood! Uh! Yes!" She moaned as he did his work on her.

He worked in and out of her, as her buttocks slapped together and even her vagina made smacking sounds, as his pelvis smacked into her own at fast speed.

"Oh give me a child Scotsman, I am still fertile to bear a child once more! Give me one. A strong boy from your loins," she gasped, wrapping her legs around his back, interlocking her ankles.

"I'll give you a child, English matron, a healthy Scotsman in your womb." Bartand said lifting her legs so she laid fully on her back, and her legs were fully straight in the air, her big bottom angled in the air for his cock.

He continued to slam into her wet now gushing vagina, pounding her mercilessly.

Moments more passed, as this crazed pounding she took to her vagina by this strong built man, as he gasped now close to cumming inside her.

"Here I come Matron! AH HERE WE GO LORD!" Bartand bellowed.

He pulled back, still with his cock deeply buried inside her he growled like an animal, grunting as he emptied his loins inside her. As a soldier, he never had much time for sex with anyone, or even the thought of self-masturbation. He could go for weeks without touching his manhood, and so he gave Gelda a built up loin load.

He grunted again, his own face pasty and sweaty as he emptied into her like a soup.

He gasped as some leaked out from her vagina at the angle they were at down onto her heaving bosoms, her face, mouth and onto her soiled stockings.

Bartand looked down at Gelda, who was so red in the face she looked like a beetroot freshly pickled. She was soaked in both sweat and cum, from Bartand. She was laid out breathing hard in the obscene position if she were caught; legs in the air now coiled towards her head exposing her bottom and vagina to the natures, and Bartand.

Bartand wasn't finished yet, as he knelt with his oozing cock and shoved it into her gaping open mouth.

"Clean me off Matron, and taste my loins that are now inside you."

She cleaned off his hairy thick cock, and tasted him.

He pulled out of her mouth and redid his breeches, closing them and putting away his cock.

He helped Gelda to her feet, as cum oozed out of her vagina down her stockings. She pulled her skirts down to cover up, and grabbed a bucket and a sponge nearby used to clean the mares. She used it to wash down her legs, breasts, face and stockings trying to hide the cum stains.

"My dear sir, you are bigger than any man I've taken to bed in a long time, and I do hope you have given me a child," she said washing her vagina lightly, as she pulled her undergarments back on.

"I do hope I succeeded in felling you with a child, Gelda." Bartand said as he pulled his cloak back on to hide his armor and injured leg.

She smiled, as she dressed and she looked back out of the barn to see if the backdoor to the tavern was open. It was not, and she smiled happily knowing she had not been caught with Bartand.

She smiled again looking at Bartand.




War for a Rose: 1455



"I must return to the tavern before my idiot son, falls us into disrepute and empty coffers."

She beamed. Before she walked away Bartand pulled her into him and felt her cunt, feeling his seed inside her, then her bottom and finally her breasts he squeezed before letting her leave.

Soon he was alone in the stables, he turned and followed the same route he took to the stables and onto the road, and back through the front door into the tavern. He and Gelda could have only been at the deed for less than twenty minutes give or take. He would tell Pixie he had taken the time to stroll around the town and see what there was.

He walked through the busy tavern, to his stool beside Pixie who was now eating some bread soaking it in the gravy of the mutton, as she sipped her wine. As he did he saw Gelda serving a man further down the bar, her face all flushed and red. Traces of cum in her hair, lightly staining her curls but no one drew notice.

He smiled at her body, seeing it now in the light of the tavern. She could bear his son or daughter with no problem, sadly the girl or boy would be called a Bastard for having no father. No townspeople would know this, seeing as most of the town knew Gelda had a ride of every soldier that came through the town meaning the child if born could be Scottish, Irish, Welsh, English or lord even French. 

As he sat with Pixie, he remembered how Gelda's lips felt around his cock, how she took his full cock in her mouth with help, and how her cunt felt around his rod. He would remember it, even if he never had her again.

Gelda went serving the men with more ale, food and with the occasional slap on her bottom by the men she played the role of an innocent busty tavern wench knowing full well what she had done in those stables out back.

Bartand turned to Pixie who was eating some mutton, and in front of him was a plate filled up with cooked mutton, potatoes, veg and at its side was a clump of soft bread. He took hold of his mug of ale, and drank down on it. He looked at Pixie.

"With the King captured what does that leave us with?" He asked.

"I don't know Bartand, but I've spoken to the soldiers they say with the King put back in power, Richard of York will hold the post of Protector to the Realm until further notice. For us, we need to contact Mason and see what we must do next," Pixie said turning to Bartand, her eyes shone beautiful with her curled cropped blonde hair.

"I guess the King learnt the hard way, when you play for the Throne. You either win or you die..." Bartand whispered.

The soldiers from St Albans, laughed and jollied with one another over ale and food as the War of The Roses began to take hold of the Realm.

Bartand and Lady Lott would find themselves in more danger now than they ever did before. The only way they would survive was together... 



War For A Rose: 1459



Four years had passed since St. Albans, and the small battle there between the House of York and House Lancaster on 22nd May 1455, where the Yorkists triumphed over the Lancaster army based there and captured King Henry VI in the battle. Bartand and Lady Lott "Pixie" had evaded Yorkist forces and safely made it back to Lancaster controlled lands.

There they made their goodbyes, hoping and intending to meet once more when Mason thought it the time to partner them both together for an assignment.

They had not met again since the day they departed from one another's company, Lady Lott returned to Court with her noble family with her orders from Mason in the interests of King VI and House Lancaster. Bartand's last orders from Mason were simply "Keep yourself content Bartand, go to the coast and work to protect the trade merchant's ships at sea against the French. I will contact you when you are needed once again in this war."

Bartand simply did just that, travelling to Dover and Southampton in search of Sell-sword work. He found it, with merchants who were having problems and troubles with French raiding parties in the English Channel.

Trade ships transporting valuable goods from England to Europe, and vice verse. Good trade, and good profit came from it which was why they were hiring Sell-swords and men to protect their ships at sea.

Bartand spent the next four years at sea protecting ships against the French, and fought for coin as best he knew.



September 1459, The English Channel, A Few Miles off of The French Coastline



Bartand stood on deck, on the ship Merryweather looking out into the sea at a blur on the horizon. However the blur was moving and moving fast towards Bartand and the crew of the Merryweather.

"Alright lads; axes, swords, and bows at the ready. These French bastards are coming at us again, and will be here soon enough." Bartand roared out, commanding the small force of armed guards aboard the ship.

This wasn't the first battle Bartand had been involved in, with these men. The Merryweather had been at sea for almost three months, trading between France and even Germany with English goods. Majority of the piracy stemmed from the French coast, and most of the skirmishes Bartand fought in were along the Calais coast. In the four years he worked for the merchants and the trading companies, Bartand had cut down more than his share of pirates and only a handful of times was he forced to abandon the ships he was on due to fire, or pirates outnumbering them.

Bartand wore faded blue breeches, his sword-belt hanging loosely at his hip. His boots were faded from the salt water, and air. He chose not to wear armor in battle aboard ships at sea, even the ships he protected. It made him a big target on the ship for the attacking pirates, and the armor weighed the wearer down against the cold wind and the sudden jerks and movements of the ship in the water.

It was also too risky to wear armor aboard a moving vessel at sea, and attempting to fight off attackers. All it would take were a swipe from a sword or axes, sending the wearer of the armor overboard into the waters below where the weight of the armor would double in the waters and pull the man down below and drown him in a painful death, as he would attempt to get the armor off while underwater.

He told his men the same thing, but it took a battle to convince the stubborn ones; many of their fellow guards falling into the waters in their armor and drowning. After that battle, they took Bartand's advice to heart and were now wearing the same as he was; simple shirt and breeches with their sword-belts.

The air was crisp, and windy with a slight sun shinning down on them from between the clouds.

The crews of all the vessels Bartand served on, went by calling him Sir Bartand even though they did not know if he held lands, or titles but it was a mark of respect from the men who served with him and in battle saw his skill.

Bartand had saved a few of the men now standing alongside him, from death at the hands of the French pirates.

"Archers, prepare to dot their hull with arrows and strike anyone you can see on their decks. They'll barge us with the full force of their vessel, and board us!" Bartand ordered, the half dozen archers who wielded their longbows and crossbows aiming them, or loading them with bolts.

The archers aboard the vessel, aimed their bows high in the air and memorizing their training and experience of distance, aimed to allow the arrows to drop onto the ship from above.

The blur was now clear and coming upon them hard, the hull of the incoming enemy ship bored slightly into the air like a knife out of water directed at them. The water rushing and splashing around the tip of the hull, like blood dripping off of a blade.

"Archers, litter their decks with bolts! Slaughter those French bastards!" Bartand shouted unsheathing his steel sword, with a hilt of red metal at its pommel. 

The archers on command loosed arrows at the French boat, the arrows flying high into the air as they turned and came down sharp into the French ship's deck and hull.

The arrows splintered, and bored into the wood as Bartand could see some of the shapes of men aboard the French vessel drop and not get up again.

"That's it lads pin the fucking French bastards to their decks!" Bartand shouted, but even with the arrows raining down on the French ship it continued bearing down on them readying to board the English vessel by force.

"Small arms out now! They are bearing down on us, prepare for boarding!" Bartand gripped his steel sword hard, with both hands on the hilt.

The French ship was now simply yards away, as the large hull of the ship now dotted with arrows came down crashing onto the deck of the Merryweather.

The sudden blow, make the Merryweather shake violently, sending a few of the men-at-arms on the deck sprawling to the floor, but Bartand held his balance. As the movements settled, Bartand helped a man clutching his bow to his feet.

"No arrows now, we're too close for that! Sword out now!" He ordered the man, gaining his balance again. He threw down his bow, and on Bartand's advice unsheathed his daggers; two of them in hand.

The French vessel crashed into the front of the Merryweather sending the attacking vessel, to crash side by side alongside the English ship. Bartand thought that was excellent sailing.

The grappling hooks came overhead, and over the banisters of the ship's side hooking onto the Merryweather pulling it alongside the French ship.

Bartand turned and saw men in armor breast plates, leather jerking and other armors carrying weapons climb on board the Merryweather.

"To arms! With me!" Bartand called out over, the salt sea and the sounds of wind.

The men turned on his order alongside him, several of his fellow guards armed and clutching clubs, swords, axes and daggers.

The French pirates climbed aboard, pulling their fellow pirates aboard in aid.

Bartand dashed across the deck towards the French pirates, and centering on one wielding a war axe brought his steel sword down with both hands striking the man's breast plate with a clash of steel on steel.

The Frenchman wobbled backwards, attempting to bring up his sword to block Bartand's strikes but as expected the sudden movements of the ships on water made it impossible for the man wearing such a large thick metal armor plate from standing his ground stable.

Bartand sensing his chance, brought his sword back up and down striking the man's bare and unprotected arm striking flesh hard, tearing it almost off. The Frenchman recoiled in pain, as blood spluttered covering the deck heavily.

Bartand struck one more, with his sword this time across the man's exposed throat as he had his head high to scream out.

The blow literally tore out the man's throat, sending blood and flesh to the decks of the ship. The Frenchman slumped to the floor motionless, as Bartand turned breathing hard and sweating on his brow he saw the skirmish unfold aboard.

The archers on board, had thrown down their bows and had taken to their swords and daggers.

The fighting was mainly kept at the banisters of the ship, if the French got into the center of the upper deck they would have control of the ship from there.

"Keep them away from the cabins!" Bartand shouted over the clash of steel and iron.

A guard Bartand could call a friend, who he drank with regularly when they docked was pressed into the banisters of the Merryweather under attack by a large French pirate clad in leather from neck to toe.

The large breastplate the man wore was made of rough sewn leather, held together roughly.

Bartand ran to aid the man, and brought his sword down the back of the Frenchman's leather armor splitting it open and the back flesh of the man underneath. He squealed, the flesh opening like an orange would be sliced open. Blood began to sap down the man's torn armor and his back, before the guard Bartand had helped grabbed hold of the French pirate and threw him over the banister of the ship into the sea below.

The numbers of the French pirates boarding the Merryweather dwindled, due to Bartand's training and leadership with the crew. Soon the French were all killed, their bodies strewn across the deck of the ship. There were a few stragglers left, a few of the men finished them off slitting their throats. 

Their screams and shouts for mercy, for aid were met with steel.

"Search the men, take what loot they have on them before we search their ship. We will be pushing off from their wreckage within the hour men." Bartand said aloud over the screams of pain and suffering.

The looting followed the battle, the guards left searched the corpses of the French pirates. The Merryweather crew lost just three men, which was good fortune for Bartand and those who hired him.

"Three dead Sir Bartand, not too bad for a day in the English Channel." One of the crewmen said to Bartand, with a smile.

Bartand wiped his steel sword clean of the blood he drew, and slid it back inside its scabbard.

Bartand as fit a soldier, knew he was entitled to the loot of the men he killed and so found the first man he killed. The Frenchman who wore his steel chest plate, he was lying on his stomach motionless with a pool of blood beneath him.

He grabbed hold of the corpse's sides, and flipped him onto its back. Bartand was used to murder and death, the stench and the image of blood did not falter him even with the throat gaping open.

Bartand turned out the corpse's pockets, and found a few French coins.

Bartand thought.

I can sell these coins to the French merchants when we make port or perhaps use them to buy me some wine. My headaches are worsening, but the wine helps.

Bartand turned out the man's pockets and found nothing more except some foul meat and bread wrapped in linen. He checked the man's breast plate, it was good steel and still usable with blue markings across it and a few scratches but it would fetch good coin at a market.

He literally ripped it off the dead man's body, undoing the straps around the man's armpits. He slid it off, and threw it to the deck. He found the man's long sword, it had a jeweled pommel and felt good steel, even after striking it on his own sword.

Bartand thought.

I could break loose the jewels and sell them, keep the sword for myself or sell it in its entirety to some trader. I will decide at port.

Soon the hour passed, among the corpses aboard the Merryweather every crewman earned a good few coins, or something worthwhile to trade. The ship before being pushed off, was found to contain stolen goods from other ships the pirates had successfully targeted. Everything from fine linens, silver, gold, rich wines that would fetch a high price to merchants.

Bartand observed the goods, listed them for value and began to move the goods aboard the Merryweather with his men's help.

"Jesus, the goods aboard their vessel are worth hundreds in coin. We may even get a raise in coin from the merchants for our work." A crewman laughed beaming with excitement.

Bartand did not share his excitement.

"I doubt it my friend, the merchants we work for are not known for their charity not even to the men who steer their ships or defend them. Even if we return to Southampton docks with what we found, they will not share a single coin with us. They'll pocket this, and send you all on another ship bound for Calais." 

The man's smile disappeared as the truth set in.

"Bastards and we did all the work! We retrieved stolen goods from these French bastards, and we don't even get a share of it." The man babbled.

Bartand smiled, a smile all knowing of the reality of the situation; one he had been in more times in the past than he could count on a single hand. 

As a sell sword he had been betrayed more times that he could count, both in battle and after. 

As a sell sword he worked for a fee, but that fee never changed regardless of how well he performed his skills in the field. He could slew an entire army, but he was held in contempt by soldiers of the Lords that he served. He was a Sell-sword and his loyalty was valued only by those willing to pay the coin, and most suspected and feared he would turn to the faction offering the better coin.

This always made soldiers keep him at distance, none drinking with him or even breaking a meal with him.

He stayed with other fellow Sell-swords, even pirates and smugglers under the Lord's orders. He broke bread with notorious pirates who ravaged the coasts, but whom also had the boats and ships the armies needed to sail for battle.

Smugglers who were renowned for their skills in avoiding the Royal navy at sea as they smuggled goods and illicit trades.

It was unusual for Lords and ladies of Noble Houses to see, but they feared him and only looked for him to do what he was being paid to do.

It made him the way he was, keeping a distance from those he fought with.

They pushed off the French vessel from the Merryweather, and made their way back to Southampton with both their own cargo intact and the cargo they retrieved.



September 1459, Southampton Docks, England



The docks were busy, smoking fires where fisherman cooked their finds on burning coals and cook fires. Traders sold their wares from wagons, stalls and even carried them around hailing for customers to see what they were selling.

The Merryweather docked against the wooden dock, and tied up by its crew.

Bartand carrying his loot in his large satchel filled to the brim with the steel armor he took from the dead French pirate, and even jeweled sword that he planned to sell as well as the French coins he was sure he could find a French trader to sell to.

Bartand disembarked from the Merryweather along the gang plank onto the docks, the salt sea air filling his nostrils as he looked at the large port which was Southampton. He had been back here almost three months before, setting sail with the crew of the Merryweather to Europe. Now things seemed to be different, a new air to the port and it was clearly visible even to him and the crew; Royal soldiers patrolling in numbers and rank around the docks. Double, perhaps even triple the number of soldiers he had seen three months before.

Bartand spotted a fisherman, selling his wares from his wagon on a bed of stones soaked in cold water to keep the fish fresh through the day, and he was cooking the fish on a cook fire nearby to sell ready edible fish to anyone with coin.

The man looked to be in his forties, balding but with a thick white beard stretching almost down to the collar of his grey dirty shirt.

He was gutting a fish one moment, and just as quickly he was leaned over the cook fire smoking a fish for a waiting customer.

"You there, fisherman. Why such a busy day at port, what brings the Royal soldiers here?" Bartand asked humphing the satchel laden with loot over his shoulder.

The fisherman looked up, handing the man his cooked fish with a knife onto a clay plate and pouring some sauce over the fish for the customer before turning back to gutting his fish. The customer walked away swallowing chunks of blackened cooked fish. The fisherman with his knife cut open the fish's gut and began to empty its insides into a basket.

"Where have you been these past weeks Sir, do you not know the news spreading all over England?" He asked Bartand.

Bartand pulled his sword belt up, as it slipped down.

"I'm afraid Sir, I have been at sea protecting galleys and trade vessels against French pirates. Will you tell me this news Sir?" Bartand explained.

The fisherman smiled with missing teeth, and gummy.

"I would Sir, if a man would buy my wares I think a hungry mercenary needs a good bit of fish in him after such a long time at sea." The pry fisherman grinned, knowingly trying to sell his fish to Bartand in exchange for information free to anyone asking. 

Bartand smiled, smelling the fish smoking.

The wry sly old fool, trying to make me buy his fish for such free news. Although... that fish is smelling really good, hes put spices and pepper on it. I haven't had a real meal in weeks aboard the Merryweather.

Bartand slipped a single copper coin from his purse, and handed the fisherman it.

"Fine you win fisherman, give me one of your smoked salmon you have over there cooking."

The fisherman smiled, and began to break up the fish on the cook fire sprinkling spices and salt onto it, before placing it on a crude clay plate and handed it to Bartand.

Bartand gingerly took grasp of the clay plate, and shoved a mouthful of seared smokey fish between his teeth chewing the hot meat.

"Information fisherman, I kept my end of the trade." Bartand said between gasps of pain from the hot fish meat on his tongue and lips.

The fisherman smiled conceding.

"Alright sell-sword, word is the truce between the King and the House of York is failing after four years of peace. Both the King and the House of York are recruiting soldiers and armed supporters to their cause, preparing for war it seems once more. Queen Margaret herself is raising an army from noblemen across all of England. The House of York are finding support among those against the King, it won't be long before another battle will be fought. If you ask me, England has enjoyed its peace why must we go to war once more." The fisherman claimed, placing the fish he gutted onto the cook fire and allowed it fry.

Bartand listened intently biting down chunks of the spiced salmon, pulling out his leather canteen of water and washed down the fish.

"Thank you Sir, for both the fish and your news." Bartand bid the man farewell, but the fisherman was already gutting another fish from the wagon to cook once gutted. Bartand began to walk along the docks, looking out into the English sea.

Abruptly soldiers shoved past Bartand, almost making him drop his fish but he held onto it as the soldiers walked past. Bartand looked back to see them, they were the King's men wearing the sigil of House Lancaster and a lesser Lord's sigil loyal to the King. They wore chain-mail and surcoats, carrying spears, swords and even bows intent on getting somewhere in a hurry.

The man who barged into Bartand, as he walked away turned to look at Bartand before shouting over the sound of heavy footsteps from the men's boots.

"Watch where you step Sell-sword!"

"Is that how Royal soldiers act in the presence of the king's people?" I said aloud, the column of soldiers stopped marching and the pious soldier who barged Bartand turned to him.

"Did I not just tell you to watch your step, now must it be your fucking tongue!" The Royal soldier stepped out of column and turned to face Bartand.

Bartand had his hand on the pommel of his steel sword, he did not want to fight the King's soldiers but the soldier should have apologized.




War For A Rose: 1459 Ch. 02



September 1459, Fort, House of Cornish Residence, Training Courtyard



Bartand had kept himself busy for the last two hours, slashing the life out of a straw target Lady Cornish's men and guards used to train with.

With a sword from the armorer, made of steel a long broad sword he had spent over two hours striking the target with his sword. His arm muscles were taut once again, and glistening with sweat as was his face and chest.

He heard the large Oak doors leading into the tower open, and he turned and saw Pixie had come down from the tower. He was happy, and hoping she would forgive him.

She was still wearing her white and grey dress, and she was watching Bartand. Bartand noting her attentions on him, began to strike at the target again pretending he did not see her.

She watched him for a few moments, before slowly approaching him.

"You train a lot don't you Bar... husband." Pixie quickly corrected herself, as the Fort's guards were walking around about their business and overhearing them.

Bartand turned, dropping his sword to rest against his leg.

"I never stop, my love. Better to be ready for what should come, than be caught off guard because I chose to let my training go. If I did, my family would never forgive me." He smiled gently, his family being a respected Clan up in the Highlands where training was paramount, and letting yourself falter through training was seen as a disgrace. 

Lady Lott gingerly approached Bartand, with a few of the guards eyes on her and him. The guards did a poor job of hiding their attraction to Lady Lott, and their arousal as they watched her walk.

She knew their eyes were on her, but she had only eyes for Bartand and she wanted his eyes on her.

"My love you are sweating so much, that shirt looks soiled. Let me take it off of you." Lady Lott said gently, as she took hold of the bottom of her shirt, pulling it free out of his breeches.

"My love, I don't believe this is the right place for this. For people to see me..." Bartand protested, Pixie didn't know why as she pulled on it.

Pixie pulled it up, and was unaware of what she was exposing to the air, the sun and the eyes of men and women in the courtyard.

The eyes of those in the courtyard were fixed on Bartand's back, the scarred flesh coming into sight, no longer peeling from years of healing but the marks were still evident. Gasps from the female townspeople trading in the courtyard, were aloud as they watched. Pixie pulled the linen shirt off fully, showing Bartand's scars for all the courtyard to see; even Lady Cornish watching from a tower balcony.

Pixie removed the shirt fully from Bartand's back, and now she saw what everyone else saw.

"I... my love, how did you earn these scars." Lady Lott stuttered.

Bartand said simply.

"War."

Lady Lott gently hugged her husband, as she steered him towards the tower.

"Lets clean, and dress you my love."

She steered him from the eyes of the guards, and female townspeople towards the Oak doors and pulled them open with the help of a guard nearby.

They were soon inside the tower, with the doors closed behind them they mounted the stone steps slowly with no words spoken to the door of their bedchambers.

Inside she closed the door, and locked the iron lock. She kept her back to Bartand, as she stared at the Oak door.

"Those marks, those scars... from your life as a sell-sword?" She muttered.

Bartand dropped his head.

"Yes, and as a Clan warrior."

Pixie slowly breathed out, as her body shuddered. Bartand could not see her face, but watched as her body shook.

"That's all you have to show for your life is it? Scars." She said, as if the words cut like a knife through her heart.

"Why does this upset you so Ma'Lady, we are just pretending to be wife and husband... you would never truly marry a man like me. I am a soldier, I always have been and you an agent for Mason why do my scars make you so upset." Bartand retorted loudly.

She sighed and turned to finally face Bartand, tears on her cheeks.

"Because its you... do you think I want to pretend this entire charade? The real thing would be easier for me to act out, no need of lies. Now Lady Cornish has seen your body, she was on the balcony of her bedchambers. She may have saw my face of shock at what I saw, and if indeed we were married I would have seen your scars on our wedding night. Our charade could be over so soon, if she suspects lies with us. She could have us imprisoned here in her lands, and demand Mason to ransom us. She is not our enemy Bartand, nor is she someone we can trust with our plans." Pixie explained.

Bartand said nothing as Pixie stomped over to Bartand who was sat on the linen bed sheets of the large king-size bed.

"We must be careful here Bartand, we do not know who Lady Cornish truly supports; be it the King or House York. She says she supports the King's Court, and Mason But if war should come once more, she could turn sides to York. We do not want to be in her company, if indeed York wins another victory against the King. The thought of ransoming us off to York, as agents of House Lancaster could cross her mind. I do not want to lose you, nor my own head for her selfish reasons." Pixie said sitting slowly, and gingerly beside Bartand on the bed.

Her eyes wandered Bartand's back and chest, noting every scar his body held. 

Bartand turned and saw her eyes trailing all over his body, even down to his bulge in his breeches but Lady Lott was not hiding it from him.

She never looked into his eyes, keeping her gaze on his scars and she began to breath deeply.

"Ma'Lady." Bartand began, before she looked up sharply into his eyes.

"No Bartand, not Ma'Lady... you must call me as how you feel, if we are to make this charade seem more believable." 

Bartand nodded gently, and leaned in almost to kiss her lips but he stopped an inch from her lips and breathed hard himself and leaned in to breath in her scent from her hair and neck.

She moaned feeling his warm breath on her skin.

"My love, my angel." Bartand moaned deeply as he leant in planting a kiss on her neck, the action made her moan and she felt moist between her legs under her skirts.

She felt Bartand's hand rest on her knee on top of her skirt, and slowly rub deeply.

She moaned into Bartand's neck, hoping no one could hear them outside the chambers; perhaps Lady Cornish had a servant spying on them for proof of their relationship.

It did not concern her now, she had Bartand; she had what she yearned for since their chance meeting four years ago and like Bartand she could not shake off her thoughts for him.

Bartand's hand upon her knee, rubbed more before moving slowly down her leg to the ends of her skirts and he gripped them bunching them up in his fist and began to pull it up exposing her stocking-clad legs.

His hand pulled up the skirt fully around her waist showing her underwear and the tops of her stockings. Bartand shoved his hand between her legs, and found her wet womanhood through the material and began to rub and grope it.

"Oh Bartand my love, feel me. I am so wet for you." She gasped, clenching her eyes shut in her bliss.

Bartand with his hand, took grip of her underwear and tore it open exposing her wet moist womanhood now glistening in the low light of the room and the fire crackling in the corner.

"Oh Bartand."

He slid his hand over her moist womanhood, and saw the slight bush she had around her woman lips. He gently pressed his palm against her slit, and felt her dripping for him.

Bartand took hold of her skirts and pulled them up entirely around her waist, and took hold of her bodice and began to unlace it slowly allowing her breasts free.

I want her naked, I want to see every inch of her; shes not just a quick fuck for me I want to see her entire body and have her forever.

He soon had the bodice off, as Pixie flung it across the room and laid on the bed for Bartand. He began to pull up the dress, over her tummy and bare breasts exposing them now to Bartand's gaze. He pulled it off fully and threw it too, into the pile with the bodice.

Her breasts were nice, small but very firm her nipples were standing erect from his touch and gaze alone.

The remnants of her underwear, Bartand pulled them off down her legs and added them to the pile.

He spread her legs wide, as she moaned allowing him to see her glistening womanhood and her moist lips wide open for him. She lay on the bed in just the stockings and her heeled boots. Bartand undid the laces and threw them aside leaving her in only the stockings now.

"Gods you are beautiful Pixie, so amazing you have me aroused for you."

She moaned biting her lip, as Bartand dropped low and leaned in between her lips to her womanhood. He smelled her juices flowing, and pushed his tongue out and gently licked her womanhood tasting her juices.

Pixie jumped up, as if bitten by some creature or bug and stifled her movements.

"Bartand my love, I've never been touched by a man like this. A man using his mouth on my womanhood, its taboo." Pixie bit down on her bottom lip, holding in her impulses.

"Everything we do is taboo Ma'Lady, we mascaraed as wife and husband and now I am tasting your womanhood. All of this is hard for me to believe my love." Bartand mused, as he continued to lick her slit up and down tasting her wetness for him.

She grabbed hold of his hair, and pulled him into her womanhood grinding into Bartand's face.

"My love, my Bartand oh more kiss me down there please." Pixie pleaded, mumbling.

Bartand followed her moans, licking and sucking on her womanhood lips. 

Pixie moaned harder, grinding harder into Bartand's hungry mouth and rolling her hips. Pixie's thighs and beautiful legs began to moisten from the arduous movements, she began to sweat from the lovemaking.

Bartand continued to kiss her womanhood, taking her womanhood lips into his mouth and sucked. Pixie clenched her fists, and began to beat on Bartand's back. She wasn't causing him pain, but he knew he was causing her to do it.

"Oh Bartand, please I am going to... I feel like I am going to explode here.... ah yes there, there!" Pixie pleaded, and ground into the bedding as she flooded the sheets of the bed with her juices cumming like a volcano.

Pixie gently slowed her movements, they were still sharp and her legs shook but she slowed down more as Bartand licked up her juices.

"Oh Bartand." Pixie leaned up from the bed, and down to plant a kiss on Bartand's head.

Bartand shook and shuddered from her kiss, but kept strong as his manhood yearned for Pixie.

Bartand sat up, and Pixie grabbed hold of his breeches pulling him closer to her between his legs, she sat up fully on the cushions of the bed and took hold of the breeches, and undid one of the buttons keeping her eyes on Bartand's.

With every button undone, now leaving just one left she leaned in close without breaking eye contact and planted a kiss on his hairy muscular tummy.

She found one of his scars under the chest hair, and it was long gliding down towards his lower region and kissed it, trailing along it with her lips making him shudder. Bartand moaned, as he watched Pixie undo the last button and with both her hands tore down his breeches exposing his thick hard uncut manhood. She pulled them down fully, as he kicked them off across the room. Pixie laid back on her elbows on the bed, holding herself up and legs spread open she simply stared at Bartand's magnificent manhood.

"By god you are hung as a mountain my love, come here and let me hold it." Pixie moaned.

Bartand shuffled closer, as the bed would allow as Pixie cupped his balls with one hand and her other hand closed around his rod. She slowly turned it left to right, looking at it and brought herself closer across the bed to the manhood before her.

She looked up at Bartand's face, and smiled.

"Is this how you like it my love, my mouth upon it?" Pixie asked stroking.

Bartand breathed hard nodding.

She smiled, breathing hard that she was making Bartand so aroused for her. She moved closer, and kissed his manhood on its head.

He shuddered hard, as she took hold of his hand holding tightly.

"Its OK I will go slow my love." She said clenching his hand in hers.

She kissed his manhood from his sack up slowly around his shaft to the head once again, she took a deep breath knowing she would need it and threw her mouth around the thick end of his rod, and slowly took in the first three inches into her mouth.

He moaned hard, fighting the urge off grabbing her head and face fucking her but he didn't want to hurt her. This was special for the both of them.

"My love be careful." Bartand told her as she began to move up and down his manhood with her mouth, unable to go past the first three inches.

She used her hands on the rest of his manhood, as she sucked deeply on the top of his cock.

He moaned hard, trying to keep his stability standing. She sucked now like an eel, trying to shove the manhood into her mouth fully. It was her first cock, but her trainers had taught her what to do to make a man happy and oral was one of them. She moved further down his manhood, attempting another inch she cringed her eyes, and they began to water as she forced the next inch past her gag reflex.

She looked up at Bartand, but she kept forcing it deeper. The difference was from her courtesan training, was that it was all classroom based and the ones they taught her about were not as thick nor long as Bartand's.

She cringed, and was unable to go past the fourth inch and she looked up to Bartand's eyes weeping. Bartand pulled his cock free of her mouth, and she gasped taking in air as she could.

"My love, its alright you did very well. You will hurt yourself, if you force yourself down on it."

But Pixie continued to cry, Bartand was unsure why as she sat on the bed with her she sat up.

"I'm so sorry my love, I have failed to please you."

Bartand gently touched her hands and held them.

"My love you did nothing of the sort, you did not fail to please me."

Pixie swung her head.

"I did fail you! I was trained to please men, come the time but this was my first time sexually with a man. My training failed me, the training given to me by Mason's teachers to become a Courtesan. I failed to please you as a man as I was taught to, I failed you."

Pixie dropped her head, and continued to weep as Bartand held her head close to his chest trying to comfort her.

He held her, kissing her head as he comforted her.

There was a knock at the door, as the two lovers kissed and cuddled.

"Ma'Lady, and Sir. Lady Cornish requires you attendance in the great hall for dinner. The meal has been set." The male voice called from behind the door, it was the man servant to Lady Cornish.

Lady Lott smiled and looked up at Bartand.

"Time for dinner my love, and the company of Lady Cornish."

Bartand squeezed her hand.

"Are you sure my love, we can always make our excuses and stay in our chambers if that's what ya' wished?" Bartand asked.

Pixie wiped her eyes clean of her tears and smiled.

"That would not be Lady like, nor Sir like of us Bartand. We must treat with Lady Cornish, as the laws of guests should be followed."

Pixie smiled and kissed Bartand deeply on his lips, sliding her tongue in touching his own before pulling free of his lips.

"Dress me, and I will dress you my love." She added with a giggle seeing his thick manhood lay free between his legs.

They both stood, and told the man servant waiting behind the door they would be few minutes as they wished to dress for Lady Cornish's company.



September 1459, Fort, House of Cornish Residence, The Great Hall



Bartand and Lady Lott had dressed for supper with Lady Cornish; Bartand in a white silk shirt, a clean pair of brown leather breeches. He chose not to wear his sword-belt, as a sign of respect to Lady Cornish and her hospitality as a guest under her roof. Lady Lott chose an elegant blue and white dress, the top half of the dress was light blue and the bottom clear white. She had her hair up and braided around her ears and up into the bun her hair was rolled into.

She had taken a liking to the luxuries in the bedchambers; and found a make-up set, to match her dress Lady Lott powdered around her eyes with light blue eye-shadow. The pair of them descended the tower's staircase, down onto the ground floor of the Fort and were greeted by the same man servant sent to find them. He was wearing a new crimson red robes, set with a black leather belt around his waist.

"Ma'Lady, Sir Bartand. My Lady awaits you in the great hall for supper, please follow me." The man servant said turning on his heel and began to walk towards a pair of two large Oak doors. Bartand and Lady Lott followed the man servant as quick as they could, as he opened the doors before them and ahead of them was a long large stone table so smooth and well shaped it had to be the hand of a good stonemason.

Lady Cornish was sat at the far end of the table, at its head awaiting them with a chair left and right of her for them. But Lady Cornish was sat speaking to a tall fair haired man standing beside her seat, and it seemed they were in deep conversation.

"Em one moment Sir, Ma'Lady." The man servant hurried into the great hall and walked up to the pair of them, and spoke to Lady Cornish.

"Please send them in, I believe they will want to hear this too." Lady Cornish said aloud, for them to hear her. Bartand and Lady Lott took the invitation, and entered the hall walking towards Lady Cornish and their seats.

Bartand was the first to spot the man speaking to Lady Cornish more clearly now; he was wearing steel plated armor, chain-mail around his arms and legs ending up around his neck. The rest of his legs and arms he wore gauntlets, and knee guards. He wore a matching steel helmet, with a pointed shiny helm gleaming in the light of the fire behind them. He wore a white rose sigil upon his steel breast plate.

He's a Yorkist, what in the name of god is a Yorkist Knight doing here? Is Lady Cornish a traitor to the King's cause? Is she handing us over to York as prisoners? Bartand mused, his head spinning thinking of the reasons for a York soldier being in Lady Cornish's company.

Bartand slowly approached the man on his side of the table, he had a short-sword sheathed on his hip and on his other hip he wore a dagger.

Now Bartand was wishing he had brought his sword-belt with him, damning his persistence in following the code of guests.

Lady Cornish was smiling, which put Bartand and Lady Lott on edge.

"Ah Bartand, Lady Lott please meet Sir Reynolt, loyal banner-man to the King. He is the King's tax collector, and he is here to collect my Lord husband's taxes to the King to raise an army it would seem."

Bartand noted how she spoke, as if implying something to Bartand without alerting the Yorkist soldier.

Bartand searched the stone table, for anything that could be wielded as a weapon if he had to fight this Sir Reynolt.

"Pardon me Sir Reynolt, but what seems to confuse me is if you were indeed collecting taxes for the King why do you wear the white rose of York on your breast plate. Those on royal business in the name of the King wear royal colors and carry royal banners. You Sir, carry the colors of House York and not the royal color. Where is the King's Red Rose? You should be carrying his sigil, unless you are collecting taxes in the name of King Henry VI and handing those same taxes over to House York. That sounds almost believable does it not Sir?" Bartand questioned placing his hand on the table, notably only a few inches away from a silver metal plate that he could use as a weapon.

The Yorkist tax collector clenched his grip on the pommel of his steel short-sword preparing to unsheathe it.




War For A Rose: 1459 Ch. 02



"I'd advise you Sir, not to impede us in the King's business. The penalty of such an offence against our great King is execution." Sir Reynolt spat back angrily.

"Indeed it is, execution is the punishment for impeding King's business if that were the case. You are not collecting taxes in the King's name however, you are collecting them for House York to pay for their own army to fight the King." Bartand added, inching his hand closer to the silver metal plate.

"Bastard I would keep my mouth shut if I were you, I am here to collect the King's tax and I will do so with whatever force I deem necessary to do so." Sir Reynolt clenched his fist around the grip of his sword.

"And do tell Sir Reynolt, how many men have you brought along with you to collect said taxes?" Bartand asked now less than an inch of his finger away from the silver metal plate's edge.

The Knight looked around the room noting that there were two of Lady Cornish's guards on the doors leading out of the great hall armed with steel swords and spears, wearing plated armor.

"I have brought thirty of the King's men with me to collect these taxes, and they are prepared to meet out the King's justice on those refusing to give their taxes to the King." Sir Reynolt reiterated, intending to put the fear into Bartand with the number of soldiers he had brought with him.

Bartand simply smiled.

"Thirty men, that is quite a force. This Fort, has a garrison of over one hundred men-at-arms and guards who are loyal to Lady Cornish and the King. Care to see who will survive a prolonged siege of this town; your men or Lady Cornish's garrison. I dare wager my coin on the guards of this town, against your men." Bartand said, gripping the edge of the silver metal plate in his hand ready to throw it at Sir Reynolt and hopefully knock him to the floor allowing him the chance to attack him.

Sir Reynolt began to unsheathe his sword, he had made his choice.

"You were warned, this town will be looted for the coin needed for the King's army!" Sir Reynolt shouted, unsheathing his sword but Bartand was quick with the silver metal plate lifting it and striking Sir Reynolt in the face with the plate knocking him to the floor, and a spurt of blood decorated the floor beneath him.

"By the King's decree!" Sir Reynolt screeched attempting to get back on his feet, but with all of his armor on it was too much added weight.

Bartand was over the table at knelt at the man's side, clutching a sharp kitchen knife from the table at his throat.

"Now I would advise you Sir Reynolt, leave with your men or I will slit your throat from ear to ear, and massacre your men outside of these walls. Choose what is more important to you; your taxes, or your lives. Choose fast." Bartand said sternly, holding the knife still against Sir Reynolt's throat.

"I AM HERE ON THE KING'S ORDERS!" Sir Reynolt mumbled.

Bartand smiled, but his smile was full of malevolence and spite as his hand pressed the knife closer to Sir Reynolt's throat.

"The charade is over Sir Reynolt, you are not here in the King's name nor are you here to collect taxes for the King. Now again choose your fate!" Bartand sneered pressing the knife against Sir Reynolt's quivering Adam's apple.

Bartand drew a drop of blood, and Sir Reynolt's screech of pain.

"ALRIGHT YOU WHORE'S SON ALRIGHT! I CHOOSE THE FATE OF MY LIFE AND MY MEN! BUT THE KING SHALL HEAR OF THIS OUTRAGE AND YOU WILL FACE THE KING'S EXECUTIONER!" Sir Reynolt screeched like a bat out of hell, trying to fight Bartand off of him.

Bartand nodded, but he unsheathed Sir Reynolt of his sword and dagger. His only weapons, that he could use to attack Bartand once allowed onto his feet. Bartand slid the carving knife used for carving roasts and meat away from Sir Reynolt's throat, as the knight gulped hard.

Bartand slowly moved to his feet, as he slid the knight's short sword and steel dagger across the floor to the corner of the hall.

"Get up Sir Reynolt, while this peace still exists." Bartand said pulling the knight to his feet by the man's hand, and he gained his balance standing.

Sir Reynolt was sweating hard, and shaking even.

"I demand my sword back, and my dagger." Sir Reynolt muttered shaking.

Bartand smiled, and held the carving knife at his hip ready to strike.

"No, your men outside these walls will have a spare sword and dagger for you. But you will not wield a sword here in these halls, until you are outside the town again."

Sir Reynolt, appeared as if he was going to charge Bartand and attempt to get his weapons back but he backed down with a whim. 

Lady Cornish stood from the table, and called out to her guards.

"Guards call the garrison to the ramparts, and walls of the Fort and prepare for attack if it should come." The two guards who stood near the doors of the hall, bowed and ran out of the hall to do her bidding. Bartand pulled Sir Reynolt alongside him towards the same doors.

"I will escort you Sir Reynolt to your men outside these walls, and word of warning do not even think of fleeing from me. You may get away from me, but I wager your chances of dodging a bolt from a crossbow are slim at best."

Sir Reynolt understood the threat, the guardsmen now running to garrison the Fort's ramparts and walls would be a mix of bowmen, crossbow men, men-at-arms and even spear men who could as easily throw a spear striking a man at a fair distance wounding him. Lady Lott stayed with Lady Cornish in the main hall, with the man servants giving orders to the garrison.

Bartand marched the stumbling Sir Reynolt out of the great hall, and out of the main keep into the courtyard via a pair of large Oak doors. The cold air hit them both in the face, as smoke churned from a nearby smith and smelter used to make weapons and armor. Around them as they marched, the Fort's garrison of guards ran to man the Fort's defensive points against siege.

Bartand kept the carving knife to his hip, as he marched Sir Reynolt to the gates of the Fort. 

"Open the gates, prepare for quick closure of the gates." Bartand shouted, as two guards quickly opened the large Oak gates to the town, and ahead of the gates were a small force of soldiers. From first glance it appeared that there were half a dozen cavalry, ten archers, and a mix of over a dozen men-at-arms and spear-men.

The gates fully opened, as the guards held them open.

"Go see your men, and take them home Sir Reynolt. Take them back to their families, wives and loved ones. If you do not, then prepare for a bloody massacre on that dirt path they stand upon. We will litter the town streets outside these walls with your dead, if you choose to make siege upon us." Bartand said shoving Sir Reynolt out of the gates into the dry mudland in front of the Fort. 

"Close the gates!" Bartand roared to the guards on either side of him holding the gates open. They soon slammed the doors shut, as Sir Reynolt ran towards his men.

Bartand began to run and mounted the staircase to the Fort's ramparts and walls, calling a nearby soldier.

"Sword-belt!"

The soldier quickly handed him his own sword-belt; with a steel short sword on one hip and on the other a matching dagger. Bartand tied it tight around his waist over his linen shirt and hung over his leather breeches.

Bartand ran to the main ramparts, above the gate keeping a hand clenched over the pommel of his sword.

Bartand could clearly see Sir Reynolt's force outside of the Fort's walls, all of the cavalry men flying House of York banners.

Bartand prepared for the inevitable, if Sir Reynolt disregarded Bartand's offer to leave the town for safety and attack the Fort.

"No one is to fire a single bolt until I give the command." Bartand shouted to the guardsmen, some did not feel easy with him giving commands but soon saw Lady Cornish with Lady Lott on her bedchamber balcony overlooking the Courtyard nod giving Bartand command of the garrison. 

Bartand looked up at Pixie standing beside Lady Cornish, she seemed afraid. She had never seen a true battle, those she had killed in the King's name were all drugged, unconscious from drinking too much wine with her and she could simply slit their throats. This was men on men, in a true battle even a siege. There would be much blood, and death if battle went ahead. She looked down upon her love, Bartand standing on the walls of the Fort.

"God, I implore you look upon my love Bartand and give him strength in battle, and help him come back to me after the battle safely." Pixie whispered to herself, hoping Lady Cornish did not overhear her prayers.

Bartand could see Sir Reynolt, being helped onto his black and white mare. He had difficulty with all his armor on, but he managed it as he called for a sword from his Captain.

Bartand could not see if Sir Reynolt was preparing his forces to attack the Fort, but he could see the Fort's garrison notching their bolts to their crossbows.

If Sir Reynolt should choose to attack the Fort, we can take out most of their horseback with arrows. Those on foot could be dealt with by way of spears and secondary bowmen. If any on foot made it to the walls of the Fort, we could pour down burning pitch, stones and spear. Bartand tactically surmised.

Sir Reynolt appeared to converse with his men on horseback, pointing at the Fort and defensive rampants before them.

"Come on you filthy dog, run away I don't want to have to fucking kill you and your men." Bartand muttered under his breath.

Two of Sir Reynolt's horsemen reared their horses to face the Fort, and after a few words began to bear down on the Fort in rank together galloping hard along the dry mud land before them.

Bartand called out.

"No one fire, except you two." Bartand said pointing to two bow men on either side of him, bolts already notched and ready.

"You two, fire into the ground ahead of the horsemen before they come upon it. Make it clear, to send the message." 

The two bowmen, wearing surcoats and chain-mail both nodded and notched their bows. They let loose into the air, and the arrows disappeared for a moment before they came back into sight coming down hard aiming at the ground before the incoming horsemen.

The arrows struck the dry dirt before the two horsemen, mere yards from them. The horses neighed and began to wildly turn back, forcing the riders to adhere to keep their balance. The two horsemen could see the two same bowmen who had fired the warning shots re-notch their bows and both horsemen retreated to their main force for safety.

Bartand cleared his throat, and bellowed out.

"THAT WAS A WARNING SHOT SIR REYNOLT! THE NEXT ONES WILL NOT BE JUST A WARNING, THE NEXT HORSEMEN OR SWORD MEN YOU SEND OUR WAY WILL BE PINNED TO THIS VERY GROUND BY OUR BOWMEN! YOUR CHOICE!" 

Sir Reynolt seemed to be arguing with his Captain, over something before Reynolt shouted.

"Enough!" To his Captain, he veered his horse to face the Fort.

"WE SHALL LEAVE SIR BARTAND, BUT WE SHALL BE BACK WITH MORE MEN AND EVEN KING'S MEN! YOU WILL FACE THE KING'S EXECUTIONER SIR!" Sir Reynolt screeched at Bartand.

"GOOD DO THAT SIR REYNOLT, AND WHILE YOU ARE IN LONDON PLEASE TELL THE KING THAT IF YOU SHOULD RETURN WITH THE KING'S STANDARD THEN WE SHALL HAPPILY TURN OVER OUR TAXES TO YOU!" Bartand's last words were an insult to Sir Reynolt, knowing he was not going back to London to see the King but in fact his liege Lord back at York in the north to report what had occurred.

Sir Reynolt huffed and puffed, but turned his horse in the direction of the fields in the distance of the town and began to gallop away with his Captain at his side, and his forces close behind following. When the force was out of the sight enough to relax, knowing if they should turn around they would have enough time to defend the walls once more, Bartand stepped down from the walls into the Courtyard.

"Stand down for now Captain, but keep some men posted on the walls and ramparts should Sir Reynolt return." Bartand told Lady Cornish's Captain of the guard, who took off his helmet to speak and listen. The man was definitely into his forties by now, but showed vigor and endurance when running to man the defenses.

"Yes Sir, it will be done. Should Sir Reynolt return, with either the same sized force or larger what will we do?" The Captain asked, running his hand through his mop of graying hair down to his thick matching beard.

"Have a few men prepare boiling pitch, a few piles of stones on the ramparts and one burning pyre at each defensive point so we can use flaming arrows if we need to. If he should return, we will meet his force with a sustained defense Captain." Bartand retorted, breathing hard running his own hand through his now wet black hair. 

The Captain of the guard bowed, and began to bellow the same orders to his men who had began to break away from the defenses to the Courtyard.

However for the rest of that day, Sir Reynolt did no return to siege the town and Fort. That evening the time was found for supper to be served once more for them all in the great hall.



September 1459, Fort, House of Cornish Residence, The Great Hall



Lady Lott sat on the right side of Lady Cornish at the marble table, with Bartand to her left and Lady Cornish at the head of the table. Behind them on a prepared table, food was being prepared as succulent pig cooked away on the big fire, it was being carved by two pretty woman servants onto plates for the dinner guests. Steamed vegetables, roast potatoes, smoked salmon were all waiting to be served.

The women servants, began to serve first platefuls of the still roasting pig to the guests, and a small plate of vegetables.

Bartand watched as one of the two servants; a pretty redhead placed his plate of pork meat in front of him. He thanked her as the serving girl went to serve Lady Cornish.

"That's all we really get i'm afraid these days, those who come to my lands are either tax collectors or those seeking refuge from the coming war. Most have little of value with them, and wish to work in the town. Work is becoming scarce now, and the local townspeople are getting agitated. Its a melting pot, waiting to be turned up-ended on all of us. This Sir Reynolt is not the first to come to my town, seeking what is not his. We have had our share of bandits, most upon seeing the Fort garrisoned back down, others have tried to take the town to their own demise thankfully." Lady Lott went on to explain in detail as she poked a piece of pork with a fork.

"These bandits, are they a threat in the surrounding forests?" Bartand asked poking his own pork meat with a fork, and shoving a succulent piece in his mouth biting down into it.

Pixie sat beside Lady Cornish, and was nursing her own pork meat with some potatoes. 

She forked a piece of the meat, and did the same with the potatoes before shoving it into her mouth and began to chew. Bartand smiled watching her eat, she looked up at him and smiled as best as she could cutely with her food.

"Not as bad as it once was, before my husband dealt with the worst ones. He caught a known notorious bandit named Cailin, he and his band of bandits ran wild in the nearby forests. Killing those travelling the roads, and looting from the corpses. My husband eventually tired of his guardsmen reporting back that they had not found the bandits, he himself led a force of about fifty guards into the forest. I didn't hear word back for days, and I had thought Cailin had caught my husband and his men, butchering them. But just three days after my husband departed for those forests, he returned with over forty of his main force and the bodies of Cailin and his second-in-charge Simon Croft. A local brigand, that joined with Cailin months before. My husband had killed Cailin in the battle personally, and Croft was killed by bow man as he tried to flee the woods." 

Lady Cornish wiped her mouth, as she swallowed the pork before continuing.

"My husband, and his men returned to the town with the bodies and the loot stolen by the bandits to return to the families of those killed who resided in our town. My husband swore that what Cailin had done in those woods for those years would never happen again, and he even now has men posted there. I believe a dozen, who keep watch on the trade routes and roads."

Bartand nodded, drinking his wine slowly.

"Your husband is a good man Lady Cornish, I have heard so in the King's Court." Lady Lott said gently, praising Lord Cornish. It was the truth also, Lord Cornish was highly respected and well regarded in the Royal Court even by the King, and also by Lady Lott's father, Lord Lott.

He had proven his loyalty to the King in many battles, and also in defiance of House York. 

Bartand finished his wine, and was watching Pixie eat her vegetables and he became aroused watching her chest heave and how she looked swallowing the carrots.

Fuck I can still remember how she sucked my manhood deep, it was an amazing feeling and sight. I want her again, and again until the day I leave this world. Bartand mused to himself.

Lady Cornish ordered the women servants to bring more wine in for them all, and to begin preparing dessert for the guests.

"Have you dealt with bandits before Sir Bartand?" Lady Cornish said sipping her own goblet of wine turning her head to face Bartand across the table.

Bartand had to carefully pick his words, it had to be past tense he spoke to Lady Cornish; all happened before he and Pixie 'married' one another.

Bartand put down his fork, leaving just two small pieces of pork meat on his plate.

"Well I've fought my fair share of bandits and even pirates, Ma'Lady. Before I met my love, I saw my fair share of fighting. I fought bandits and renegade Clansmen in Scotland. When I left my homelands up North, I made my way down South and saw a lot of fighting with inter-warfare between noble Northern Houses. When I came to London, I found the South astir with the coming war for the throne. In my time down here in Southern England, I've worked for merchant companies and trade merchants protecting their ships at sea against French pirates. I made a good bit of coin, for protecting merchant ships at sea. Once I found my love Lady Lott, I left my old ways behind. But in my time, I have seen many things Ma'Lady." Bartand concluded.

"I am sure you have Sir Bartand, do tell how you and such a lovely creature as Pixie met, and married." Lady Cornish said, with a grin that said it all to Bartand and Lady Lott. She knew who they were, even knowing Lady Lott's secret name from within the King's Court. No one except close to the Loyalist supporters knew her as Pixie. Lady Cornish knew more about them both, than they thought.

Bartand had to think, he had to try and keep this charade of him and Pixie being married. He was about to speak, but Pixie jumped in to save him luckily.

"We met when Bartand came to the King's Court in London, my father introduced us. At the time Bartand had returned to London from Southampton, dealing with the French pirate troubles in the Channel. He had earned a lot of respect for his courage out on those waters from my father, Mason and even His Grace himself, the King. I immediately liked him, and my father gave his blessing to Bartand to court me." Pixie smiled beaming across the table, giving her tale of how they met; both her and Bartand knowing it was all constructed. But even though it was all constructed to protect them, the story made them both feel the butterflies in their stomach's once more. It was how they both wished they had met, and not the way they had truly met in battle.

"And he did, we began to Court together. We would meet after his business with Mason, and my own in the Royal Court. We would meet to eat together, wander the Royal palace grounds and we just fell in together perfectly." Pixie continued, her smile not wavering as her eyes were not on Lady Cornish but on Bartand and they were not moving anywhere else but on him.




War For A Rose: 1459 Ch. 02



Bartand smiled gently back, wanting to touch her hand across the table.

"Well it sounds like it was a perfect pairing for you both, I am so surprised your father would consent to the Courting. Scotland is still regarded as a land, where support to House York is strong as the Scottish do not care for the King." Lady Cornish snidely commented.

Bartand was getting annoyed with her comments, but he had to keep his control he was a guest under her roof and he had just saved her town from attack.

"Well Scotland is a large country Ma'Lady, there is indeed supporters to York who have no love for the King but there is support for the King in Edinburgh and the monarchy." Bartand reiterated with a stern tone.

Lady Cornish smiled, lifting her goblet and sipping her wine once more as the women servants scurried around the table pouring wine into their goblets and leaving two full flagons of wine on the table for the dinner guests to enjoy.

"Indeed it is Sir Bartand, a beautiful country it is as its people are too." With her mouth in the goblet sipping the wine, her eyes were dead centered on Bartand. She was trying to seduce him, but Bartand only wanted Pixie to seduce him.

Bartand tore his eyes from her own, and set them on Pixie's and they both smiled.

"What Clan do you hail from Sir Bartand, if I may inquire?" Lady Cornish asked in her own authoritative tone.

Bartand tore his eyes from the woman he lusted for, wanted, loved even back to Lady Cornish's own eyes.

"Clan Anderson Ma'Lady, we have lands north of Stirling in the Highlands. My father is the Clan leader still, I left my Clan at the age of ten and six for war in the surrounding lands in my Clan's name. Clan wars as the South know them as, for lands and resources. I saw most of the heaviest fighting in the Highlands between my own people. Its a sad day... when you have to watch your fellow countrymen kill one another in the search for lands and resources. Your country tearing itself apart." Bartand said solemnly, it was a part of his past he did not like to remember. The death, his own countrymen killing one another in the name of Clans, pride and honor.

"A sad history of your great nation i'm afraid my love." Pixie said gently with a comforting smile, as she looked over the table at Bartand.

"Indeed, a dark history that still continues the Clan wars." Lady Cornish added with a click of her fingers, for a women servant to come to her. The redhead was the one to come to her call, and Lady Cornish demanded the dessert to be served.

The redheaded women servant bowed and ran to the kitchens.

There was a short silence, as Lady Cornish finished her pork and Lady Lott finished her vegetables as Bartand waited for the dessert to be served. He wanted this supper over, to be alone with Pixie.

The dessert was simple fruit, but all kinds of fruits that were shipped in from abroad. There were kiwi fruits sliced open, tangerines, oranges, grapes, strawberries, even banana's. They were all sliced open, and presented on the table for them as the servants came out to serve it.

The serving women at the table piled with fresh fruit, filed plates full of all the different kinds of fruit before serving them to the guests. Bartand, Lady Cornish and Pixie were served the platefuls of fruit, before the servants bowed leaving the hall. Bartand cut a piece of apple in two, and ate one of the pieces chewing down on it.

As they ate down on their dessert, Bartand's eyes wandered across the table to his love; Pixie. The way she ate, even breathed made him smile even butterflies flew in his stomach, everything she did make him love her even more. This charade, was now all he wanted for real in his life.

I love this woman, more than anything in sordid bloody life; everything I have done I would trade it all for Pixie. All who I have killed, all of those I murdered, butchered in the name of Clan honor, even profit I would bring them all back to life if I could have her. But I am just a Sell-sword, I'm not of a Royal House nor of any worth to be with, even marry Lady Lott. Bartand came to his conclusion.

"I love you Pixie... but you and I both know we will never be allowed to be together." Bartand said in a low voice, so low that Lady Cornish would not hear, just he and Lady Lott heard the confession. Lady Cornish was too busy speaking to a women servant. 

Lady Lott held her fork, with a piece of fruit on it inches from her mouth as if she had been told a deep seated secret; but what she had been told made her so unhappy and sad she began to tear up and shiver. She slowly dropped her fork back upon her plate, and she stood from her chair with as much modesty as she could gather.

"I love you Bartand, so much... please do not end this."

Before Bartand could say anything back in response, Pixie fled the hall for her quarters crying trying to hide her tears.

Lady Cornish looked shocked, and in genuine surpise at not knowing what had caused Pixie to become so upset. 

"Sir Bartand, what is the matter with Lady Lott. Why is she so upset?" She asked sending away her servant, who even showed some discomfort in the room.

Bartand simply picked up his filled goblet of wine to his lips, and drank deeply of mouthfuls before placing it back on the table.

"I told her the truth, that is all Lady Cornish. I love her, and I cannot hurt her any more than I have already done." Bartand said looking ahead past where Pixie had sat only moments before to a large tapestry hung from the hall's walls. It depicted a bear, a large black bear being attacked by armed soldiers, hounds, and even its fellow woodland creatures.

In the end, the big bear is swallowed up whole by those he trusted; and those he detested. I'm that bear, and if I continue to give Pixie the impression that this charade will become reality upon us leaving Lady Cornish's company, we shall both suffer...





End of Part Two, to War For A Rose: 1459 as this will most likely be a trilogy perhaps of three parts to this specific year in England's history. Hope you enjoyed it, and can't wait for the next and perhaps final part.



War For A Rose: 1459



"Are you a bastard, as well as a money grubbing mercenary!" The soldier padded over to Bartand, as the soldier took hold of his sword Bartand simply unsheathed his own steel sword.

"I advise you soldier, I fight for your King as well and I don't think your liege Lord would take satisfaction in knowing you spoke to others like this including a sell-sword I think he would hire into the King's service. I am in all my rights to defend myself against attack soldier." Bartand rehearsed.

The soldiers turned alongside each other to face Bartand, hands on their pommels.

Bartand had one hand on his steel sword, and his other hand resting on the dagger sheathed on his belt. Bartand was well trained and versed with swords, daggers, bows and even axes so he could fight with two weapons at a time.

"If you feel like you need to answer steel with steel soldier, then come at me then. We will see who walks home tonight, to their wives. I'll wager you could kill me, but I shall take most of you with me to the halls of the dead." Bartand said gripping his steel sword in one hand, and in the other the dagger.

The Royal soldiers did not move, they were not stupid and knew from the way Bartand stood and presented himself that he was experienced, well trained and could match all of them in combat.

"Like I said sell-sword, watch your step next time. The King's soldiers have duties to attend to, and you will not deter them." The captain of the soldiers said, turning on his heel and began marching away with the rest of the column attempting to catch up pace.

Bartand sighed, he wasn't happy he wanted a fight; to take out his frustrations. But this fight, it was better he had avoided it; attacking a Royal soldier brought down the King's justice which was beheading for such a crime. He didn't want to lose his head for fighting a few King's cloaks.

Bartand looked out into the English sea, as seagulls flew overhead quirking he ate his fish.

"So you still think the need to pick a fight with just about anyone don't you." A female voice called from behind him. Bartand turned slightly to see the girl speaking to him, but even her voice triggered a memory; he knew who it was before he even turned around completely.

She stood in a grey and white dress, tightly fitting around her chest and waist with a bodice around her upper torso over the dress made of leather and bound tight with strings pushing her breasts up to the air.

Her short blonde hair was now braided, but shielded by her cowl pulled over her head, with her blue piercing eyes bearing down on Bartand.

She was smiling slightly, as she wore her own sword-belt discreetly beneath her robes, and a dagger swung in its scabbard on her hip.

"Lady Lott, by god I haven't seen you in four years. You have changed haven't you." Bartand observed, noticing her slightly bigger bust, more womanly legs and hips but also the complexion she wore on her face more shrewder.

"Nor have I Bartand, I did not think I would find you at the docks protecting trade ships at sea. The duty suits your... demeanor I would say." She smiled beaming.

She is still as coy as ever it seems, god she has not lost her beauty that is obvious.

Bartand thought.

"Well I always thought a life at sea, beyond me but it has kept me busy these last four years Ma'Lady."

Lady Lott, also known as "Pixie" to some for her cute and petite body and frame smiled.

"I think we have both changed Bartand, come walk with me." Pixie beamed, her eyes awash with blue sea in them. Bartand nodded and followed her as they walked along the dock edge.

"I wonder Ma'Lady what brings you here to Southampton?" Bartand mused.

Lady Lott looked over at Bartand, as they walked side by side.

"War, i'm afraid Bartand. Our King's war to be exact, Mason sent me to find you. We have been given a task by him." She said walking, her heels clicking on the stone cobbles. Bartand took a moment to stare at her legs, encased in white cotton stockings.

"I had heard of war coming, once we docked the Merryweather. I saw more Royal soldiers patrolling these docks, than I did three months ago when I sailed off. Also a local spoke of both the Queen and House of York recruiting soldiers for war." Bartand explained his own account of events since landing.

Pixie nodded gently as they walked.

"It is true, Queen Margaret is rallying support from the noblemen and those loyal to the King as House York finds support among the commoners. This past year has seen a lot of heated exchanges between the King and those of House York. Lords loyal to both sides are calling in their banner-men, buying sell-swords even. War is coming once more Bartand, Mason knows this and he wants us to target a Lord loyal to the Yorkists. A Lord by the name of Walters, of Dover. A land Lord, yet he has no issues in taxing the pirates and smugglers who come to his docks and he has used that saved coin to hire Sell-swords from France, Spain, Germany and even Norway into the service of House York. A lot of coin is being spent by Lord Walters, and others loyal to York. They are hiring smugglers, to prepare to move forces via the sea to the coasts of England quicker than by road." Pixie knew what she was talking of, she had heard it all in Court from both those supporting the King and York. 

She was a Lady, and privy to such information; and as Mason's courtesan in Court she could wiggle the information from most men with a few wry stares and flash them a bit of her thighs.

Other times a dagger was needed to be held to the man's throat in his bedchambers, but either way she got her target and the information she needed.

Recently, in the last few weeks the information she heard from her targets made her fret and even Mason knowing war was igniting once again.

One Lord spoke of House York making an alliance with Scotland, France, and even Spain to send forces over to help them oust the King from power.

This may have been rumors, but Mason took them seriously enough regardless and sent envoys to those countries to make their own alliances for House Lancaster.

Bartand finished the blackened cooked fish he had bought, and threw it into the sea as they walked.

"Seems the cards are dealt finally Ma'Lady, the King and House York will face off again in battle it would seem. Question is now where will they face off, St Albans was different it was a matter of defending the town but I would assume both armies are on the move with so many King cloaks around these docks. They on the offensive now, at least we know that much." Bartand observed, seeing Royal soldiers on the ramparts of the nearby Fort and even watch towers flying King's colors. 

"You are a shrewd man yourself Bartand, you have noticed such a large force here in town belonging to the King's service. Do you still serve our King, Bartand?" Pixie asked gently, turning to face him noticing his own rugged build and warrior body.

It made her feel weak in the legs slightly, and the feel of butterflies in her stomach.

"I always serve the King, Ma'Lady. My loyalty is to House Lancaster, they pulled me up from service and put coin into my pockets when I needed it. I do not forget that, nor do I forget that Mason puts more coin in my pockets. As long as they pay me well for my services, my loyalty is theirs Lady Lott." Bartand vouched himself.

Lady Lott smiled, but it wasn't a happy one more of a realization.

"So your loyalty can be bought it would seem Bartand, who ever has the most coin. Indeed who are you truly loyal to, if they do not have the coin to pay you." 

Bartand thought gently, only one person he would ever stay true to for what ever they paid him; even if they paid nothing. It was her, Lady Lott.

"Only one Ma'Lady, she can have no coin in her pocket but I stand loyal to her until the end of days."

Pixie gently laughed, composing herself as she rubbed her cheek.

"Who indeed is this lucky woman, your wife or mother?" She asked him.

Bartand stopped in his tracks, and halted walking as Pixie stopped alongside him.

"It is you Ma'Lady, you saved me that night in those woods and I am indebted to you for it. You are the only woman in this world, I shall protect for no coin but appreciation. I am honor bound by blood to you, a blood promise." 

Pixie no longer smiled, she had no words to say as she looked all around her for something; whatever it was it was lost on Bartand to see.

"Well... that is something I did not expect to hear sell-sword, me being the one you would truly protect for no coin. I am... honored." She stuttered.

Bartand knew he had nothing else to say, he had said what he wanted to say.

Its what has been on my mind these past four years Pixie, and its killed me not being able to tell you that evening we departed from each other. These four years have been a nightmare without you, the headaches worsen since I last saw you and only wine mulls the pain for me.

Bartand thought to himself.

They began to walk together once more.

"We need to make our way to Dover, best we take the roads by horse and make that we are a travelling couple." Pixie explained.

Bartand liked the idea of pretending to be her husband on the road, he had many dreams at sea of her being his wife.

"By all Ma'Lady a wise choice, but indeed you are much younger than me and appear so. Many may question our story." 

Lady Lott nodded, and took from her pocket a silver garnet ring and placed it in Bartand's hands quickly.

"Put it on Bartand, I have mine on already." She explained.

Bartand observed she had a matching ring on her finger to his, to persuade those who saw them as being husband and wife. Now Bartand felt butterflies in his own stomach at the thought.

He took the ring and slid it onto his finger, and looked at it vividly.

This may be a decoy to deceive people, but I feel like I am married to her. God if only this was more than a deception.

"As for weapons, you better sell that chest plate you have there before we leave. Same goes for the jeweled sword you took from the French, if people see that then the facade of us being married will be destroyed. We will be staying a night or so, at Lady Cornish's Fort en route to Dover. She goes by her Christian name Jessica, and she is a supporter to the King's cause and we can trust her. She will allow us under her roof as guests, before we make our way to Dover. She can be trusted, but she is known for seducing men to tell them thier secrets. She is unaware of what we are doing, and it is best we do not tell her." Pixie explained.

Bartand nodded, holding his satchel over one shoulder and his other hand on the pommel of his steel sword.

"Does Mason fear she could sell on this information to House York?" 

Pixie shrugged.

"Most likely not, but she is an excellent seducer and Courtesan. She will most likely use the information to her own goals, perhaps blackmail Mason or the King's council for more powers, lands or titles. The council would probably grant them to her if she told them what she knows we are doing in the name of the King. She also believes we are husband and wife also so we must keep the facade of marriage up in front of her or she will know we are simply free agents for Mason. She may leave us both alone in her castle, thinking we are married and not push us for information." 

Bartand, was intrigued if Lady Cornish was known for her blackmailing ways why they would stop at her lands for rest.

"And if she attempts to squeeze information from me about our mission?" Bartand asked.

Pixie turned facing him again, patting down the skirts of her dress.

"Then don't tell her, make up a story perhaps. Say we are trading for ourselves, but that on the King's business we are poaching information from all corners of the realm that could affect the King. She knows Mason does have his scouts and spies patrolling the realm, gathering information for the war effort. So that's the story we stick to in her company."

In front of them both, a stable where horses were whining for food and attention from the horse hands.

"We need to purchase horses, and supplies for the journey." Pixie said pulling from her pocket a pouch of coins.

Unzipping the pouch, they walked over to the horse hand to purchase two horses for their journey.



September 1459, On The Road To Dover, England



A day had passed since leaving Southampton, Bartand had sold his steel breastplate and the jewels in the pommel of the sword he had taken from the French pirates for over two dozen coins; a mix of gold, silver and copper.

The horses weren't cheap either, but a few coins made the horse hand happy and they packed and saddled their horses. The horse hand believed they were indeed married, and the pair of them told the man they were on their way to meet family following the wedding for celebrations.

Within hours they were in the woods and open fields between them and Dover, riding alongside each other along the roads.

Not much was said for the first few hours on horse, except basic questions. Now they were in a wooded area, riding along a stream with the sun now in the sky beating down on the trees and leaves bouncing rays onto the dirt path.

The horse gnawed and slowly padded their hooves into the dirt and mud, when Lady Lott turned to him still in her white and grey dress, slightly dirtier than before but still radiant on her. Her blonde hair braided, but tied up now under her cowl. Her piercing eyes still visible below the shroud.

"Bartand, Mason told me you have been at sea since we last saw one another fighting French pirates... what did you think of on those seas, of home?" She asked him coyly.

Bartand wondered, it was an unusual question she asked him. She knew what he had been doing for these past four years, why did she want to know what he was feeling whilst on the sea.

"Well... the usual really Ma'Lady, being on sea meant we did not have many of the luxuries we have on land. Most meals were salted fish, and bread. Some wines that I purchased when docked in Calais. I've been having headaches since leaving England for sea, only thing that really helps is wine so I drank my share of it on board ships. Food well, reason why I bought the cooked fish the moment I was off the Merryweather. " Bartand responded holding the reigns of his horse.

Pixie looked away to the stream, and then back to Bartand.

"What about your lover, perhaps a real wife in Scotland waiting for your return?" She smiled slyly.

Bartand smiled, his sword-belt slightly bouncing due to the horse's movements.

"I'm afraid not Ma'Lady, I have never been married except on this occasion." Bartand joked showing the ring, and the irony of the situation.

Pixie smiled beaming, he could make her smile that was a given.

"As for lovers, most of those I have been with are married now or indeed still plying their trades." Bartand said, meaning most of his lovers were prostitutes in brothels.

Pixie nodded, feeling sad that Bartand was alone with no one.

"What about you Ma'Lady, anyone waiting in your lands. A lover, or perhaps a husband in waiting?" Bartand asked looking at her thighs, covered in the white cotton stockings.

Pixie let out a giggle, even the thought of having someone never crossed her mind; her whole life was about training to be an agent and assassin for the King, and also a spy in court for both her House and House Lancaster. There was never any real time to find someone, and those who were interested in her were only so as they wanted a beautiful trophy wife to parade around court. It was never love with them.

"I've spent my entire childhood training with swords, daggers even poisons. Then my teenage years were spent learning to be a courtesan in Court, and now my adult years I am a Lady of my House since my mother passed away. I guess I haven't taken the time to find a lover, or husband." She smiled sadly.

Bartand saw a chance, a chance to see how she would really feel or react to what he would say next. If she responded well, it could mean more things to come and if she responded badly then at least he would know.

"That is hard to believe Ma'Lady, someone as beautiful as you and as nice... you still alone. It does not merit a thought, you should be with someone. If I had even the smallest of chances with you... I would take it with both hands." Bartand said, gently choosing his words carefully.

Well now its out there, however she responds is how I shall see the rest of my life. She has been on my mind for four years, and since she left me all I have are headaches. Maybe my headaches will now stop, if I know the truth.

Pixie kept her eyes ahead, as if she was thinking and perhaps trying to not let her eyes meet Bartand's.

"Well... if I had the chance also with you Bartand, I would take it with both my hands too. If I did indeed had such a chance." Pixie too chose her words carefully, they both knew words could become acts very easily as words of war became acts of war.

"So... we would both like... the chance if we had one together. That is true correct Ma'Lady?" Bartand asked.

Pixie simply nodded.

"Uh huh." She moaned.

Bartand felt his manhood grow in his breeches, as his eyes wandered all over her body from her stockings to her chest.

"What... if I did take such a chance with you Ma'Lady? In the VERY near future I would say?" Bartand inquired.

Pixie deliberated her choice of words again.

"I would not say no Bartand, and I would really like if you did take the chance... with me." 

Bartand nodded, he had been give the green light to go for it with her. He couldn't do it now, not with the assignment and the journey by horse. Perhaps he would take the chance at Lady Cornish's Castle, and even add strength to the deception of marriage between them.

"That is good to know Ma'Lady, and I shall take the chance when time best fits it. I hope that will be very soon." He smiled eyeing up her breasts and legs, Pixie caught him and beamed with a smile as she gently bit her bottom lip.

Pixie was breathing hard, biting her lip as she got excited.

"I can't wait..." She moaned.

Bartand wanted to play the dirty soldier.

"Maybe I will shove my big manhood in your mouth Ma'Lady, deep so you taste my meat." 

Pixie shuddered smiling and moaned.

"I will have to fight to get you that deep in my throat, Bartand." She grinned, the words making her moist between her legs and Bartand's manhood harden in his breeches.

The rest of the journey on horseback was soon over, as they neared the town where Lady Cornish's Castle fort was situated. As the two of them neared the town, they saw townspeople hurrying around with their business; selling their wares from stalls, and herding their animals.

Bartand observed the colors flying from the stone fort's walls; the King's sigil and colors, the only other flag flying was of a black raven standing perched on a dead mouse.

"Lady Cornish's sigil, the raven that is. Her husband's arms; he has about six hundred banner-men loyal to him and the King. But he is usually away on King's business, leaving Lady Cornish by herself here. She makes do; her husband knows she is the true power behind House of Cornish, he is the public face in court. Be careful she is known for her beauty; I would not want her... stealing you from me, husband." Pixie smiled, as Bartand turned to her.

Bartand smiled back, as they slowly worked their way into the town on horseback.

As they worked their way around the townspeople's stalls, and the marketplace Bartand spotted soldiers loyal to Lady Cornish patrolling the streets to keep the King's peace.

They wore a black cape with the House of Cornish sigil, and their armor was sleek black steel plates with the same sigil bore upon the breast plate. Chain-mail was worn underneath, and helmets were sleek black steel with a face guard.




War For A Rose: 1459



Six of them were walking in rank towards Bartand and Pixie's horses, they pulled up and halted their horses in front of them. The captain of the column opened his helmet's face guard from the rear and pulled it wide open showing his brown hazel eyes.

"Lady Lott?" The Captain of the guard called slightly lower than his usual voice level, so only the soldiers could hear. The soldiers knew who Pixie truly was, and so acted accordingly.

Lady Lott brought her horse up sideways so she could speak to the guard.

"That I am Captain." Lady Lott replied.

"Please follow me Ma'Lady, and your companion. We will escort you to Lady Cornish." The Captain said.

Pixie looked at Bartand, and the ring on his finger all part of the deception.

"This companion of mine Captain is my husband, Sir Bartand." Lady Lott pointed out, the Captain looked hard at Bartand and simply nodded.

"As you say Ma'Lady, please follow me." The Captain said turning the horse around to face the stone fort and began to ride on wards with his men following him.

"He does not believe we are a married couple." Bartand observed, as he and Pixie soon followed the guards.

Lady Lott nodded gently, as she rode.

"Then we must prove we are one, perhaps in front of Lady Cornish and her guards. Then our story may earn its weight." Pixie answered.

Bartand nodded, as the soldiers led the way to the Fort.



September 1459, Fort, House of Cornish Residence, England



The guards brought Bartand and Lady Lott to the gates of the Fort, and took their horses to the stables to be tied up for them. Their supplies and belongings were taken off the horses by servants, and were told they were being taken up to their quarters.

The Captain of the guard, showed them both to the gate to the Fort. Inside the Captain of the guard called a male servant over with short black hair. 

"Please inform Lady Cornish, her guests have arrived." The Captain of the guard said, the male servant scurried off to tell Lady Cornish.

"I will leave you both Ma'Lady, Sir. Lady Cornish will be with you soon. Good day." The Captain of the guard bowed, and left through the oak doors out into the courtyard. Candles burned along the walls of the hall, and the windows allowed light into drown the rest of the hall in light.

They waited a few minutes, until the same male servant entered the hall once more and calling out as he walked in.

"Lady Jessica Cornish, of House Cornish and wife of Lord John Cornish. I present to you Lady Lott, of House Lott and the King's Court." The servant finished, as a young, beautiful, tall raven hair woman followed the servant.

She had piercing dark eyes, and dark make-up around her eyes and cheeks with deep dark red lips. She was extremely tall for a woman, standing at 5'10 even in her heels. She wore a tight sached dress, that clung to her curves and frame in black and purple colors. Around her stomach and just over her breasts, she wore a bodice in dark leather tied up tightly around her mid-drift. She had almost non-existent breasts, but they were there just simply small and almost flat. It did not blemish her beauty, with her extremely white pale skin and face.

As she came into view, Bartand noticed she wore black lace gloves that ran up to her elbows.

"Ah Lady Lott, it is an honor for my home to be your roof for the evening and any longer you need. Your father is well I assume?" Lady Cornish gracefully stepped down the few steps onto the marble floor as she approached them both.

"He is indeed, he plans to take another wife in the Spring come next year." Lady Lott gracefully answered.

"Ah a good man your father, he has mourned your mother long enough I think. She too was a good woman I believe." Lady Cornish said with grace and a smile.

Lady Lott nodded, in a bow beside Bartand knowing her courtesies.

"Indeed he has, I have met the woman he wishes to marry and I am pleased to say I accept her into my House and I am honored to." 

Lady Cornish smiled, the cut along her leg down the dress exposing a pair of purple stockings with a bow at the top in black.

Bartand tried to look away, not wanting her to catch him staring at her and destroy the facade he and Pixie and worked on.

"And who is this amazing specimen of a man I honor in accepting under my roof tonight?" Lady Cornish asked, halting and stopping in front of them both only a few dozen inches away.

"I am pleased to present to you Lady Cornish, my new husband Sir Bartand." Pixie carefully said noting Lady Cornish's reaction.

Lady Cornish did not flinch or show any expression showing her surprise at this revelation.

"Well... then I am honored to have Lady and Sir Lott to my home. When did you marry Lady Lott?" She asked smiling.

"A month passed, a small affair in a chapel outside of our hold-fast. My father, his soon to be wife and my cousins attended us for the event. It was quite a small quiet celebration. Me and my new husband are travelling in the King's service, finding anything being said of value to the King." Pixie explained.

"Ah Mason sent you I am guessing, quite a man I would love to get to know a lot more than I already do. He is quite an interesting man, my sources cannot find any true information about." Lady Cornish said wryly, knowing all to well that Mason indeed had sent them. Pixie had to hope, she believed them being husband and wife.

"Indeed he has, in the King's service." Bartand added, finally giving his weight to the conversation.

Lady Cornish's smile widened even more, as she noted Bartand's accent. A Scottish accent, very unusual in England.

"Wow... indeed, you have married a Scotsman Lady Lott. Quite something, I would never have thought you would have married someone so... rare, exquisite and so untamed." 

Bartand noticed her smile, that was aimed at him primarily.

"Love can be found in many places, Lady Cornish. I was lucky to find it with Bartand." Pixie said biting away her anger.

Lady Cornish smiled.

"Indeed, in fact I don't blame you... a Scotsman like Bartand is truly a find. Wish I had found him first indeed, and made him a lover."

There was an awkward silence, between the three of them as a wide naughty smiled crossed Lady Cornish's dark red lips.

Pixie was right about her, shes a temptress trying to get me to tell her what I know for her assets.

Lady Cornish smiled in a conniving manner, she was going to enjoy Lady Lott and Bartand's company.

"Well I shall let my servant take you both to your quarters, as man and wife I assume you will be sleeping together." Lady Cornish smiled

Lady Lott nodded gently, watching Lady Cornish carefully.

Lady Cornish called for her manservant, and told him to take Lady Lott and her husband to their rooms that had been prepared for them.

Lady Cornish excused herself, saying she had to check on the meal being prepared for them for the evening and as she turned to walk towards the kitchens she grinned at Bartand, winking before disappearing.

The same man servant who brought Lady Cornish to meet them, told them to follow him and they began to mount a staircase to the higher floors of the Fort.

As they followed the man servant, Pixie slowly turned her head to look at Bartand as they walked together.

"She is a temptress, I warned you." She said in a hushed voice.

Bartand nodded solemnly, he was ashamed of having felt aroused at her seductions after telling Pixie how he truly felt about her.

"You liked her didn't you? How she was trying to seduce you?" Pixie said, not bringing herself to look into Bartand's eyes.

Bartand said nothing, ashamed. Pixie let out a small sigh and began to walk ahead of him a few paces avoiding him.

I've betrayed her, I told her how I felt on the road and now I've destroyed any chance I had with her.

"My love?" Bartand called for her, in his husband role but she ignored him and continued to walk up the stairs.

"I love her, and I've hurt her." Bartand thought to himself as he followed her.

The journey to the higher floors of the Fort's tower, to their bedchambers only took a few minutes but felt hours long as Pixie ignored him following.

The man servant finally stopped in front of a large thick Oak door, and opened it stepping aside allowing them both to enter.

"Lady Cornish will send me to find you here, when the meal is ready. Hand maidens shall come and dress you Ma'Lady for the meal before we go to the great hall to dine." The manservant said, in his speech voice before departing leaving them both inside the bedchambers where their things were piled up against the walls of the room. Bartand was about to close the door behind them both but spoke.

"Should I even bother closing the door Ma'Lady, or would you rather I left you alone?" He asked her, but Pixie had her back to him staring out of the room's small stained glass windows into the courtyard below.

"Just... do what you want Bartand, leave me for a while please." She sighed.

Bartand nodded.

"As you wish Ma'Lady... and I am sorry." Bartand said stepping out of the bedchambers into the staircase closing the door behind him.

She will never forgive me for this, I've lost her when I had her.

Bartand thought making his way down to the Courtyard, and the armorer. He would pass the time until the meal training in the Courtyard.





End of Part One, to War For A Rose: 1459 as this will most likely be a trilogy perhaps of three parts to this specific year in England's history. Hope you enjoyed it, and can't wait for the next part.