CHAPTER 1
They
lay siege to Alencon in the Normandy province for thirty days and thirty
nights. The smell of rotting flesh
filled the air; the fires behind the walls of the city burned as many of the
dead as it could, but they couldn't keep up.
If it weren't the army at their gates that would kill them, it was the
hunger and disease. It was almost over,
but the last of the soldiers refused to surrender.
Outside
the city, the army of Prince Rulf camped out.
Over fifteen thousand men spread out over the rolling hills, their fires
burned brightly at night; their arrows flew with accuracy during the day. Alencon was the last stronghold to take, and
then, they could go home to England, victorious in their campaign to rid the
world of the Norman Empire that had ruled England so unmercifully. The Normans were banished from England, but
Walter, King of England, had sent his only boy to lead his armies to smash the
homeland of the Normans forever. Prince
Rulf had been at it for over a year and yearned to go home to a quiet life and
find a wife to give him an heir.
Rulf
sat around the table in the tent, surrounded by his generals as they planned
the final attack. "I'm sick of
being called the Boy Warrior! Take the
city and my name will go down in history."
"Aye,
Aye," the generals shouted out. They
had been with Prince Rulf since the beginning, laying allegiance to him from
the outset of the invasion of Normandy.
They had taken over two dozen towns.
Once each town was taken, the men took their rewards from the people,
taking anything of valuable, the women just another prize. The Norman province would be home to a lot of
English bastards in the year to come.
"We
will storm the walls just before the sun rises in the East. I want every soldier out there. The last thing they will see is an English
soldier shoving his blade through their bellies and gutting them like
pigs. Don't return until the city runs
red in blood!" Rulf knew that
victory was his in the morning. Tomorrow
night, they would celebrate; the next day, the city would burn.
"Long
live Prince Rulf, long live King Walter.
Victory, victory," the generals chanted. There was no denying Prince Rulf his dues,
not if you wanted to live. Any man would
lay down his life for him, and tomorrow, many would.
* * * *
As
the darkness gave way to the light of day, an eerie quiet fell, and then, all
hell broke loose. One
thousand archers made the sky grow dark once again as their arrows blanketed
the sky. They sent ten volleys of
arrows into the castle walls, and then, the infantry advanced on the gates,
heavy wagons loaded with pointed logs charged the gates. The gates only held for minutes, and as the
gates splintered into hundreds of pieces, the armored soldiers broke inside the
walls. It was a brief skirmish for the
overwhelming odds of Prince Rulf's men before the last of the defenders were crushed;
the cobblestone streets ran red with their blood. With little resistance, Rulf's army filled
the streets of Alencon, killing all they could find – men, woman, even children
were massacred.
The
sounds of his men yelling out their triumph greeted Prince Rulf's arrival as he
rode majestically on his white horse into the gated city, his boyhood friend
Zane alongside him. The screams of women
rose up higher as he neared the castle steps, home to the Baron Louis of
Alencon and his queen, Lady Colette. His
men had started taking all the treasures of the city, and the women were taken
for the soldier's pleasure. The
celebration would go on for a day; Prince Rulf would have his generals and
leaders celebration inside the castle where the baron once held reign.
"Find
me Baron Louis. Ten
gold pieces to the man that brings him to me, dead or alive." The word spread quickly, Rulf would soon have
one of his prizes. He bent over the low
doorway as he rode his horse into the giant chambers, the marble floors covered
with dead soldiers that defended the royal family that lived there. He finally dismounted as he approached the
throne that had been the baron's.
"Clean
up these bodies and find me some wine.
It is time to celebrate." It
took only minutes before Rulf had wine in his hand, drinking out of a golden
chalice. He walked up to the throne. "Sit
with me, Zane. I doubt Lady Colette will
mind that you take her throne."
Though
Zane was not of royal linage, he held a special place with Prince Rulf. They had grown up together and shared many
adventures. King Walter entrusted his
son's life with Zane, and Zane would do anything to protect him, even giving up
his own life. Life was good with Prince
Rulf; women plentiful and available, food and drink overflowing. Life in the last year had been harsh with the
war, but there were rewards. They would
soon set sail to go home triumphant. He
gazed out over the large hall, filled with statues; the French loved half-naked
women and so did he. The floors were
tiled in marble, a large fountain in the center of the room. The soldiers pulled down the baron's pennants,
and King Walter's flags flew in their place.
It was beginning to look more like a celebration hall than a death
chamber.
The
soldiers had stripped the French girls for the prince's enjoyment, naked to the
waist; bare-breasted French girls began to bring out food and more ale. Zane's cock grew hard as he saw the young,
nubile girls with firm breasts and big nipples strut in front of him. They spoke in gibberish, Zane never learned
French, but the soldiers easily translated with pain, the pricks of a sword
into their cute ass made them move and squeal.