the muscles of his chest and shoulders bore witness to the strength that had gone into the hammering of this fine sword.
Lord Brigayne was pleased. He weighed the sword in his hand and felt for the balance. He lifted it and sighted along its length as Jack had done. He smiled broadly and said something she couldn’t hear. The other men laughed low and one of them thumped Jack on his shoulder with a gloved hand. They knew what they had. The best smith for miles around. One of the men handed Jack a heavy purse. Victoria’s eyes widened. She blinked. A few more swords and they could own a Mercedes, she smiled to herself. Here that probably meant another cow or two. Maybe a fine dress. The pleasures of life were simple here. Enough food and drink, a warm fire in winter, perhaps a paid servant to do the heavy work. She rubbed her hands together. She could feel yesterday’s work in her muscles and joints already.
The sword was sheathed and fastened to Lord Brigayne’s belt and the men mounted their bored horses. As they swung up, one of them saw her in the doorway. She had carelessly moved into sight as she watched them.
“Oh ho,” he said and they all turned. She ducked back into the house and leaned against the door frame. She could hear them outside. “I see you finally got married, John,” one of them said.
The men laughed licentiously and she twitched. “Let us see little Maggie, John.”
She cringed against the wall, knowing he would be furious. This is exactly what he had warned her would happen. She listened for his boots and there he was, darkening the doorway. His eyes were angry and the set of his mouth told her she had better not speak.
She told him how miserably sorry she was with her eyes and let him grab her by her upper arm and steer her toward the visitors.
She stumbled up to them and kept her eyes on her feet. Jack still had his hand on her.
“Let’s see her pretty eyes, John. Big eyes the color of violets.”
Jack shook her arm a little and she raised her eyes to look at their landlord. He was average height and about thirty five years old. His body was still strong from riding and hunting, though he had begun to broaden a bit in the belly from too much rich food. His eyes and hair were a soft brown and he wore elaborate velvets and polished leather. Lord Brigayne raised his eyebrows. “Remarkable. Such a deep blue with that coal black hair. Good job, man, good job.” He nodded to Jack, then waved his riding crop. His horse moved away obediently. His men followed him. When they were a polite distance away so they would not raise too much dust, the horses broke into canters and soon they disappeared around the bend of the road.
“Oh God, Maggie. What have you done?” He sounded desolate. She had planned to fuss at him for being a brute, but those imagined words never materialized. He dropped his arm.
Instead she apologized. “I’m sorry. I wanted to see you give him the sword.”
“And now he has seen you.”
“This is a bad thing?” She wondered aloud.
He looked at her sharply. “What do you mean by that? You have lived in this county your whole life. You know what this means.”
Maggie probably did but Victoria was lost. It was possible that Lord Brigayne might want to fuck her, but even a lord of a manor would not dishonor such a man as Jack, his smith and an important townsman. Or would he? She tried to call up some of Maggie’s memories.
“You are not safe now until he has taken you. One of his men will come when I am gone and drag you to the manor. A few days later another servant will return you to me. He is not gentle. You will be bruised and sore. You may never like it again. Don’t tell me the girls and the women never told you these stories. Why are you playing me, Maggie?”
Victoria opened her mouth and inhaled deeply. These stories were now coming back to her through Maggie’s memories. Many stories. For years, ever since he got his cock to stand for the first time, Lord Brigayne had plagued the village women with his lust. His father, the previous lord, had only stepped in when Brigayne had started to eye the vicar’s wife.
She