Message-ID: <7689eli$9804071330@qz.little-neck.ny.us> From: john_dark@anon.nymserver.com Subject: {Lysander}JDR"Droit du Signeur 1"( Mf MF 1st hist )[1/7] Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Note: This message was posted by a secure email service. Please report MISUSE OR ABUSE of this automated secure email service to . Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <6gceoe$l1h$1@sparky.wolfe.net> The following story is posted for the entertainment of adults. If you are below the age of eighteen or are otherwise forbidden to read electronic erotic fiction in your locality, please delete this message now. The story codes in the subject line are intended to inform readers of possible areas that some might find distasteful, but neither the poster nor the author make any guarantee. 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If you keep the story, *PLEASE* keep the copyright disclaimer as well. ================ Copyright 1993 by Lysander This file may be distributed freely by electronic means only, provided the text is unaltered and this notice is included. Each user may make one hard copy for personal use. Any other method or purpose of duplication requires the permission of the author ================ DROIT DU SIGNEUR by Lysander Part One Kirsten grunted and gave a last mighty shove. The heavy wooden yoke fell into place on the rack, and wobbled a few moments as she and Leni collapsed onto the stable's dirt floor in near exhaustion. She never wanted to plow another furrow in her life. All the men and most of the women were needed to get the last of the harvest in before winter came -- old Mother Maude said this one would be the worst in many years. But the strips still had to be plowed so they would be ready come spring, so she and Leni and the other young women had had to do it. Usually, one man could handle the team of oxen, but Kirsten was small and unskilled. She was more suited to baking and spinning than plowing. Even with Leni, or perhaps because of her, the plowing still took all day, but they had gotten it done. She looked down at her hands. There were blisters on her thin, nimble fingers, where she had handled the plow. They felt fat and useless, like they were someone else's. "You'll have to have lotion for those hands," Leni said, watching Kirsten flex her fingers. "Tomas'll not want to wake up thinking it's Ralf that's caressing him." Leni giggled at her own boldness. Kirsten blushed, herself. She was not as experienced as other girls about what went on between a man and a woman. Some of her friends had talked about seeing their parents "doing it" like the sheep or dogs, but Kirsten refused to believe Leni's mother and father - her own adopted parents - behaved like that. Indeed, since Leni's father was the blacksnith and therefore a well-off man, she and Leni had their own room and had never seen Gustav and Gretchen do more than kiss and caress, "Don't worry. When I kiss him, he'll know I'm not Ralf." She clicked her teeth at Leni and smiled to cover her nervousness, but her face was still rosy pink, up to her pale blonde hair. She was excited, of course, but she was even more nervous. Tomorrow she would be married, and it was about time. After all, she was almost sixteen, as well as she could reckon. But Tomas had waited until his grandfather died to post banns in the chapel. The old goat was a right bastard, Tomas said, but he needed those fertile strips of land if he was going to feed himself and a family. It was that or depend on his father. The fine linen dress her mother and grandmother, and probably her grandmother's grandmother, had been married in was all mended with the best thread she could afford and drying on the fence outside Gustav's smithy. The dress and a few pennies were all that were in the small cedar chest that had saved Kirsten from the fire that had taken her parents. Tomorrow night she would wear it for the first and last time, she thought. Thoughts of tomorrow night also reminded her why she was nervous. Tomorrow night, her wedding night, she would spend in the castle. She looked through the door up onto the low hill where the stone fortress sat, casting its shadow on the field where the sheep grazed. She shivered in silent dread. Droit du signeur, they called it. Filthy and barbaric, she thought it was. It was a right not much practiced by the nobles in these parts, but one that could not be denied. Weddings were held in the castle's chapel, and the festival afterwards took place in the bailey, or in the great hall if it was winter or raining. And then, after nightfall, the bride was taken up to the bedchamber of the lord of the estate, and deflowered by the lord. That was what awaited Kirsten tomorrow night. It almost brought her to tears. How could she sacrifice her virginity to someone other than her husband? It didn't seem a very Christian thing to do. But Kirsten well knew her place. It was her lord's right to be the first to take her, and she was not someone to go against the rights of those God had placed above her. She would just throw back her shoulders and... No, that wouldn't do, she thought as she glanced down at her firm bosom. Oh, what was she to do? As though she knew what Kirsten was thinking, Leni put an arm across her shoulders and kissed her cheek. "Don't worry on it, dear heart. It'll be over in a night, and you'll be with Tomas the rest of your life." She sounded so motherly, Kirsten had to laugh, despite her mood. A girl smaller and younger than she, trying to comfort her like a grandmother to a toddler. She laughed at least until she saw Count Heinrich riding up to the castle gate, with a brace of bloody rabbits hanging from his saddle. In one of the outer fields, Tomas leaned on his scythe and mopped his brow with his patched and rough sleeve. He too could see Heinrich on his bay stallion. "It ent right that. No man's got a right to another man's bride." Ralf planted his own scythe and looked for a moment at the young man. "No it ent right for a common man to take another's woman. But the Count up there, he ent no commoner like us. Things is different for folks like him. Always was, always will be. But I reckon I understand how you feel. After all, a year agone it wouldna mattered. The old count woulda just put her in a soft bed and himself in another. What with his 'war wound' and all." His weathered face cracked in a wide grin, showing his crooked yellow teeth. It was well known that the "war wound" old count Heinrich had suffered from was the shrewish wife given to him by his duke for bravery on the field. But Heinrich the younger had no such impediment. His lady seemed to care little about the count's activities, so far as the peasants could tell. "If he lays a hand on Kirsten, then count or no, I'll wring his bloody neck. On my gran's head, I will." "Aye, likely it will be your gran's head, and the rest of your family's as well. But you wouldn't get off so easy as that, boy." "Listen to him, Tomas," said Otto, who had just walked up. "My own Hilde was born nine months after my wedding night, to the day. She favored her mother more than anyone else, so no one knew if she were mine or Sir Albert's. But I'll tell you this, boy, we had a good thatched roof, and a bit of meat in the pot come midwinter, when most everyone else did without. And when the sickness took her and my Ruth, Sir Albert made sure they both had good wooden coffins and deep graves, frozen ground or no." He walked back off to his own row, sniffling and muttering. Tomas just took up his scythe and went at the barley with a vengeance. The fires at either end of the great hall were slowly dying down, but Kirsten was still flushed. She had danced with every man at the feast, save for the minstrel and Count Heinrich; but most of all, she had danced with Tomas. Tomorrow, she would finally share his bed, but tonight.... She would just treasure this last hour before she had to go up to the count's chamber. Tomas sat beside her, his hand in hers, staring at his feet and trying to moisten dry lips. Suddenly, he turned to her and pulled her face near his. "Kirsten, love, let's run away. Let's go to King's Ford, or even to Bromburg. Let's get away from this place, from this man." He shot a dark look at Heinrich, who stared back with calm dark eyes and whispered something to his lady. Gustav had suggested they do that, and even offered her the small amount of gold he had saved up, as long as they took Leni with them, for she would be married within a year, he was certain. Leni and her mother had managed to get the blacksmith drunk and home before he made a scene and got himself in trouble with the count. Gustav and Tomas were much alike. Like most men, they could not accept the world for what it was. Kirsten was a woman grown, now, she had to have the strength of a woman. She gripped her groom's hand more firmly. "Tomas, what would you do in Bromburg; what trade do you know besides farming? And where could you find land besides here? We've both of us got family here, and if we run away, we'll never see them again." "But I just cannot bear the thought of you with him. You are MY wife now, and no man worth the name would let another--" She put two fingers to his lips, then kissed them. "We can't do anything about that, Tomas, so try not to dwell on it. Just remember that you are the one I love, that I have always loved." She kissed him again, tenderly, then deeply. "That I always will love," she whispered. "They seem to love each other, don't they?" Heinrich murmured to his wife. The dark-haired, dark-skinned woman with the regal features glanced from the minstrel over to the newly-wedded couple. "Yes, they do." She noticed the cold eyes of Tomas over the rim of her goblet. "You'll watch that young man, if you are wise, love. He looks like one to try something foolish." "No need to worry," he whispered back as he took her smaller hands in his calloused ones. "I've dealt with worse than a foolish boy." Esmerelda grinned back and made to refill his goblet, but he stopped her pouring. "Not too much. It's a long night I have ahead of me." It seemed like the festivities had only begun when Count Heinrich placed his hard hands on Kirsten's shoulders. She noticed the white scars that stood out even on his pale flesh, the marks of a man who lived with a sword in his hands. "Well, my dear, it seems most of our guests have departed." A drunken snore from some old peasant punctuated the lord's statement. "In one way or another." Bright teeth broke through his thick dark beard as he grinned, in friendliness it seemed to her. "Say goodnight to your husband, my dear," he added, firmly. "Goodnight, Tomas." You won't do anything foolish? Tomas just grunted and swallowed another half-mug of ale, refusing to look at her. Kirsten took Heinrich's proffered hand and let him lead her out of the great hall. "Don't be overly concerned about the young man -- Tomas, isn't it?" Heinrich said as they ascended the narrow stairway. "Just let him get himself good and drunk and tomorrow he'll be as docile as a sheep." He stopped suddenly and pulled her up onto the stair he was standing on. "But if he is angry with you for some reason tomorrow -- and some men can be -- know that you may seek refuge here, until he is reasonable again." She could not meet his eyes, so she stared at the bright silver medallion on his chest, a giant cat of some kind, in mid-leap. When he saw she was not going to respond, Heinrich continued leading her up the winding stairs. The door to his bedchamber was open and they walked in. The walls were covered in tapestries of forest scenes and fanciful creatures. A maid was just turning down the blankets on the great bed, which looked to be very, very soft. Kirsten followed Heinrich across the room. She gazed intently at a tapestry of the Ascension, which seemed to glitter in the flickering candlelight. Golden threads! That single wall hanging contained more gold than she had ever seen in her life. She suddenly tripped on something on the floor. Looking down for the first time, she saw that a tapestry even lay on the floor, instead of the rushes she was expecting. She jumped back, afraid to walk on something so beautiful. "One of the treasures I acquired on Crusade," Heinrich commented, noticing her expression. "Pretty isn't it?" He held out his hand again. "But not as nearly as lovely as you, Kirsten." Kirsten blushed and a small smile tugged at her lips. She took his hand again and followed him to his bed. It was indeed as soft as it looked, but she sat only on its edge. He asked if she cared for more wine, and she shook her head. He dismissed the maid, but in a language Kirsten had never heard. She bowed and left, closing the door behind her. "Now my dear, I know you do not relish my touch on this night, but believe me when I say that I mean you no harm, and only want to make this night as pleasurable as possible for both of us." Kirsten refused to look at him. "Tell, me Kirsten, are you a virgin?" "Yes, my lord," Kirsten replied indignantly. Did he take her for some harlot? "And do you believe your Tomas has never been with a woman?" "Never. We have been betrothed since we were little. We have always known we were for each other and no one else..." She jerked her hand to her mouth, too late to stop the offending words. Heinrich merely grinned indulgently. "My dear, a young woman's first man -- or a youth's first woman, for that matter -- should be someone experienced in the ways of love. It is a time that makes one much too nervous to give much pleasure to the other. To get the full pleasure of the experience, you must have a teacher as well as a partner." "Yes, my lord." But it was obvious she was unconvinced. "My dear Kirsten, I..." The door burst open and the maid interrupted him, babbling something incomprehensible. But Heinrich was on his feet and had pulled a sword from somewhere, placing himself between Kirsten and the open door. Immediately, Tomas rushed into the room. The servant threw herself between him and her master. With a strength born of rage, Tomas threw her aside. Brandishing only a cudgel and his knife, he lunged at Heinrich, who had the scars of a man who lived with a sword in his hands. "Tomas... NO!!" she screamed. But too late, he was down. She ran to his limp form and cradled his head in her arms. She felt along his body for the wound, hoping against hope to save him. "Don't worry, I hit him with the flat of the blade. He'll have a headache and a bump, but nothing more serious." Kirsten didn't believe him at first, but there was no blood, no visible wound anywhere she could see. The maid was already coming to. Heinrich went over to check on her; half her face would be an ugly bruise for a few days, but she seemed to be otherwise unhurt. Guards came running up the stairs and into the room, looking ashamed, and hungry to punish whoever had made them look so foolish. "Take this man to the dungeons," Heinrich commanded. "Tell my wife I am unhurt. You two help Rosa to her chambers, gently now." He turned to Kirsten and looked at her darkly. "Do not leave this room, I'll be back shortly." He turned to go, but she grabbed his arm. "Please don't hurt him, anymore. You won't... do anything to him, will you, my lord?" He pulled his arm away firmly. "I haven't decided yet." He left her alone. She threw herself on to the bed and screamed into a pillow. Tomas, you idiot, if you've gone and gotten yourself killed, I'll strangle you. The logic of her thought struck her and she began to laugh, quietly but hysterically. A widow on her wedding night. She would be laying him in the ground before she ever took him into her bed. Gradually, the laughter turned to sobs, then gentle tears. Oh Tomas, Tomas. Don't leave me. It seemed like days before Heinrich came back to the bedroom, but she saw the candles had only half melted. "Is Tomas alright?" He looked down on her. He pulled a cloth from his tunic and gave it to her. "Dry your eyes, Kirsten, he is well. Whether he remains so depends upon you." He's still alive, thank God, still alive. Depends on me? "H-how, my lord?" "Your young husband has committed a serious crime, Kirsten. Attempting to murder his lord, in his own bedchamber." "But -- but he was only trying to protect me." "Protect you? From what? I certainly had no intention of hurting you, and this is the safest place for you to be short of the castle of the Emperor himself." He sat on the bed beside her. "Be that as it may, I am willing to put the blame on too much drink and the excitement of the day. But only if you give yourself to me, willingly, and do whatever I tell you without hesitation." "My lord?" This is what she was expected to do in any case. "Oh, of course I will do nothing to harm you, and I promise you that I will try to make the experience as pleasurable as possible. Do you agree?" Tomas will not be hurt? I will not be hurt? "I agree, my lord." "Excellent, excellent. Well, I know it has been a hectic night for you. I'll leave you do get some sleep. We will talk again in the morning." "Tomorrow, my lord? But aren't you going to... Aren't you going to... take me... tonight?" "No, no. We have a two whole weeks to take care of things like that." "Two weeks, my lord? But I thought... You said that...." The count smacked himself in the head. "Ah, where is my head! I must be more tired than I thought. Of course I can forgive your young man for assaulting me, but he also struck two of my servants and a guard. The guard is expected to take blows for his lord, but I owe my servants protection, so he must be punished for that. Two weeks of confinement. Any other man would get a month turning the millstone for each assault. "Just be thankful I am a forgiving man, Kirsten. The penalty for assaulting one's lord is death." He closed the door, and locked it from the outside. Kirsten tried to stay awake and worry about her fate and Tomas's, but the excitement of the day, and especially of the night, had exhausted her. She fell asleep on the softest bed she had ever felt and dreamed of nothing. ================ Copyright 1993 by Lysander This file may be distributed freely by electronic means only, provided the text is unaltered and this notice is included. Each user may make one hard copy for personal use. Any other method or purpose of duplication requires the permission of the author ================ DROIT DU SIGNEUR by Lysander Part One -30- -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |