Grier The Ramrod

This story series is an antecedent to my Jack Grierson series. It is about the Danish chieftain, Grier, an ancestor of Jack Grierson. It takes place during the Viking invasions of England.

* * * *

Burke, son of Ealdorman Hollis of Tunbridge, leaned on a wooden post on the top of the stockade wall of Newhaven Fort, squinting his eyes against the sun glare. He followed the pointing finger of Leofric, his father's bailiff. His eyesight was not as good as Leofric's, but what he saw made him quail. Outlined against the late morning horizon were four long ships.

It was hard to believe that he had been married less than an hour previously to Mildrith, the 18-year-old heiress of the coastal fief of Newhaven. The courtyard of the fort behind him was festooned with gaily-colored ribbons and streamers. Burke's sixty Tunbridge warriors and gentlemen as well as Mildrith's retainers were all dressed in their finest. But now they were all milling about nervously.

Ealdorman Hollis was a close advisor to the king and had made the all arrangements for the marriage. Mildrith's father had recently died without a son and the king was quite pleased to promote the match so that the fief of Newhaven could be merged with Tunbridge and controlled by his loyal vassal, Hollis. Mildrith's father had died owing the massive sum of a thousand shillings to the Church, but Hollis paid off the debt to ensure that Newhaven would remain unencumbered. He thought it a small price to pay for such a strategic extension of his territory.

Leofric was a massive, battle-hardened warrior who had fought many bloody battles at the side of Ealdorman Hollis. His respect for his master was only matched by his contempt for his master's heir. Burke was the opposite of his father in almost every way -- physically weak where his father was strong, timid where his father was bold, cowardly where his father was fearless and conniving where his father was straightforward.

"By the saints, Leofric!" cried Burke. "It is Danes!" He squinted harder to try and make out the long pennant flying from the mast of the leading long ship and then gave up. "Can you make out the standard they are flying?"

"It is a battering ram, my lord," said Leofric. "The standard of Grier the Ramrod."

"The Ramrod?" asked Burke, stupidly.

"He carries a battering ram on his ship that he forces into my lord's castle. And a rod between his legs that he forces into my lady's pussy."

"Surely these are fanciful tales," said Burke nervously.

"Ask my lord, the Sheriff of Bridgeport," said Leofric with a harsh laugh. "Who just last year had his castle sacked and his wife fucked. Grier fucked Lady Ardith, the Sheriff's wife, on the table in the dining hall for all to see, even the servants! My lord Sheriff has rebuilt his castle, but the babe his wife has birthed is said to be the image of Grier."

"Pack our baggage, Leofric," said Burke, licking his lips. "We are leaving immediately for Tunbridge."

He hurried down the steps from the stockade wall to the courtyard and began shouting to his retainers to pack and make ready to leave.

"My lord," said Mildrith, putting a hand on his arm. "Why the panic? We are safe here in the fort. We have a dozen men-at-arms and another score of strong men from amongst the tenants. With your sixty warriors and gentlemen, we have more than seventy men. Under the command of the fearsome Leofric, we will easily see off these Danes."

He looked at her, bewitched once again by her looks. She had a lovely peaches-and-cream complexion and a mane of fiery red hair. Her white wedding gown was demure, but hugged her curves in just the right way to set a man's imagination racing. Her bosom was full and firm, pushed up by her laced bustier whose outlines could be seen through the translucent material of her bodice. It also emphasized her narrow waist and rounded derriere. She wore a bright red choker around her neck, hung with a silver cross. For days now he had been looking forward to undressing her and putting his member into her tight virgin pussy. His organ twitched as he mentally undressed her again.

"My Lady Mildrith is right, my lord," put in Leofric. "Newhaven Fort is set on a height with open ground all around. They will have to come up at us and we can pick them apart. They will not dare to attack a fully garrisoned strong point like this."

"Then why are they sailing here?" asked Burke plaintively.

"Last night's storm must have hit them hard," said Leofric. "I saw that their sails have rents in them and their hulls look the worse for wear. They must be looking for a peaceful cove to repair and refit. We have nothing to fear if we stay put in the fort."

"No," said Burke. "I will not stay here in this flimsy, wooden structure at the mercy of these savages. I have given you my orders, Leofric. I wish to be on the road to Tunbridge within the hour."

"As you command, my lord," said Leofric, his tone barely civil, his anger quite plain on his face.

"I will not leave my tenants to be slaughtered," said Mildrith angrily. "You may run away, Burke with your tail between your legs. But I shall stay here and defend my ancestral fief from these godless heathens."

Burke raised his hand and tried to slap her, but she put up an arm and took his blow on her forearm.

"You bitch!" he hissed. "Stay with your worthless tenants in this pigsty you call a fief. Once you are killed by the Danes, my father will find me a more fitting bride."

* * * *

Mildrith and her castellan Oswald took a turn around the top of the fort walls as night fell and the torches were lit. Oswald was now dressed in chainmail with his sword and dagger on his belt. Mildrith had fastened a belt on the waist of her wedding gown on which she wore a long wicked-looking dirk. It was a cloudy night that obscured the thin crescent moon. They looked at the long ships drawn up on the beach half a mile away at the bottom of the hill. There were a few torches lit there as well, and they could see a few shadows moving about. But it was impossible to tell whether there were ten men or hundreds.

"Four long ships, probably close to two hundred men, my lady," said Oswald. He was a plump, heavyset man whose best fighting years were behind him. "It will be a tall order to hold them off if they decide to attack us."

"Leofric said that their ships were badly damaged in the storm the night before my wedding day," said Mildrith. "Perhaps they will make their repairs and sail away."

"Indeed, my lady, they may well do that. Fifteen years ago, your father and I beat off a Danish attack on Newhaven Fort. I am sure they remember that."

But no sooner had they completed their inspection and returned to the courtyard than there was commotion from outside the walls. Mildrith and Oswald ran back up to the top of the wall and found horns blaring in the forest behind the fort. Then a series of fire arrows arced out and hit the northwest tower. One of them stuck fast in the external face and flames caught the vertical timbers.

"Water!" bellowed Oswald. "Quickly!"

The archers in the forests saw the point where the flames were catching and soon dozens of fire arrows were aimed at the spot. Several stuck in and fed the rapidly expanding flame.

"Don't worry, my lady," panted Oswald to Mildrith. "Once we get the bucket brigade going, we will have the flames out. These walls are stout, they will not burn down easily."

In the ensuing hour every available hand was pressed into the bucket brigade. All other points along the walls were denuded and even the main gate was watch was reduced to a single man. Water came up from the fort's interior well to be poured over the flames. Slowly, but surely, the water began to win as the timbers grew wetter. There was a loud hissing as the flames began to die out.

Then there was an enormous CRACK at the main gate that was set in the eastern wall. Oswald knew the sound only too well -- a battering ram. And the single tenant farmer on watch was caught completely unaware. Oswald reacted immediately. He caught Mildrith by the arm and spoke urgently.

"You must take shelter in the keep, my lady! Find a good hiding place! I will send a man with you!"

Mildrith nodded and hurried down the steps to the courtyard, holding her wedding gown above her ankles as she did so.

"Edwina!" she called out to her personal maid, as she entered the keep. "Come with me, immediately!"

Edwina Batten was exactly Mildrith's age -- eighteen. They had known each other since they were children, first as playmates, and then as mistress and servant. She was a pleasant looking girl with auburn hair, firm breasts and a tight ass. She had a rolling gait that accentuated her curves, turned men's heads and had them ogling at her womanly body. Wives and mothers inevitably smacked their erring husbands and sons, and Edwina gained a rather unearned reputation for moral laxity.

She had been married a year previously to Frank Batten, one of the fishermen in the village. But much to Frank's dismay, she preferred to continue living with Mildrith in the fort, coming to his cottage only once a week. He vented his sexual energies on her during her visits, but as a hot-blooded youth, he chafed at his many nights alone.

The two girls ran into the keep along with Connor, a heavyset farm boy that Oswald sent to guard them. Connor was armed with a pitchfork and had a determined look about him that gave Mildrith confidence. She led the way up to the upper level. Edwina turned toward the master suite that her mistress normally occupied. But Mildrith pulled her in the opposite direction toward the Edwina's own small maids' chamber.

"But my lady ..." began Edwina.

"Hush!" snapped Mildrith. "If the Danes come up, my suite is the first one they will search. They may overlook your small chamber."

Edwina's chamber was barely big enough to fit in the bed and bureau. There was a small closet and heavy drapes over the small window that overlooked the courtyard. Mildrith, Edwina and Connor crowded around the window, agog. Just as they took their positions, the main gate to the fort gave way and the massive head of the battering ram poked through. It withdrew and when it struck again a moment later, one of the gates was torn off its hinges and fell inward with a crash.

The Danes flooded in with bloodcurdling cries, led by a tall, dark-haired man carrying a broadsword in one hand and a round Danish shield in the other. Oswald led the fort's small party of defenders against the onrushing Danes with his sword held high and met the Danish leader.

"Look, my lady!" whispered Edwina. "That dark-haired man must be Grier the Ramrod! Isn't he handsome?"

"Bite your tongue, you bad girl! He's a godless pagan! If you are a good Christian woman, you will pray for his speedy death."

Oswald thrust at the Danish leader, but the Dane used his sword to brush it aside. With the heavy castellan off balance, Grier struck him with his shield, knocking him to the ground. Then he plunged in the sword into Oswald's chest. Driven by Grier's weight, the heavy broadsword tore through his chainmail like tissue paper.

Mildrith gave a short scream of dismay at Oswald's gargling death cry, cupping her mouth with her hand to silence herself. Grier turned his attention to another of Newhaven men-at-arms and quickly dispatched him. Mildrith watched him with awful fascination as he worked his way around the battle, always looking for and engaging the strongest remaining adversary.

The battle was over in less than half an hour. The defenders were slaughtered. Grier stood in the middle of the courtyard where the wedding ribbons and streamers were now trampled in the mud. His sword dripped blood. He had a few cuts on his right forearm and a bruise on his right cheekbone, but was otherwise unhurt. He was joined by one of his warriors, a huge man, with long blond hair, a dark blond beard, and the shoulders of an ox. He carried a bloody battleax,. Grier pointed to the keep, and said, "Send some men in there to make sure there are no more fighting men hiding there." The blond man nodded and spoke sharply to a couple of his warriors and they strode purposefully toward the keep.

"Stay behind the drapes, Edwina! I will be in the closet! Connor, you take up a position behind the door. If any of the savages enters, run him through with your pitchfork!"

"I will, my lady," Connor assured her stolidly.

Mildrith pulled the closet door shut, but left a narrow crack so she could see out. She shrank back against the wooden back of the closet, trembling. Curse Burke, my cowardly husband, she thought angrily. With his sixty warriors, we could have easily beaten off these monsters.

Time passed slowly. Then she heard Grier's voice again.

"Check on the wounded, ours and theirs. Kill those who cannot be saved, I take no joy their misery. Gather the others under shelter and bind their wounds."

Harsh cries came up through the window from the courtyard below as the Danes began to butcher the dying and drag the wounded to the small barracks by the gate. Then came high-pitched screams, followed by the sounds of clothing being ripped and a cacophony of moaning. The Danes were celebrating their victory with the women.

But all three in the room lost interest in the sounds from outside as they heard the creaking of the stairs. The Danes began to ascend the steps to the upper level of the keep. Mildrith heard them rummaging around in her master suite from the back of her closet. Then the door to Edwina's small chamber was pushed inward and a warrior stepped in. He wore leather armor with metal rings and a distinctive Danish metal helmet with a peak. Connor rushed at him and buried his pitchfork in his chest. The Dane clutched at the pitchfork as he fell and the handle snapped under his weight.

Connor remained standing with the stub of the handle in his hands as the second Dane stepped over the body of his comrade. The Dane ran Connor through with his sword and kicked his body as he fell, snarling with rage. There was a moment of silence as Dane stood still with Connor's blood dripping off his sword, looking around the small, dim room. He took a quick look under the bed, straightened and stood still again, as though making up his mind. Mildrith's heart beat wildly, but she held her breath and began to hope. Then she heard Edwina mumbling, "Holy Mary, mother of God! Holy Mary, mother of God!"

The Dane took one step forward and pulled the drapes apart. Edwina screamed as he placed the sharp tip of his bloody sword at her throat.

"A pretty one!" he breathed in accented English. "Lucky for me I get fuck you first before I have to share you with the others!"

"No, no, no," she babbled, her hands together in supplication. "In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, don't do this to me! I'm a God-fearing girl. He will strike you down!"

"Your god is no use to me!" he cried, pulling her out from behind the drapes. He sheathed his sword and put both hands in the neckline of her blouse. There was a sharp ripping sound as he tore it open, revealing her white under-bodice. He drew his dagger and sliced the ties of her under-bodice, releasing her firm, young breasts. Her nipples are hard like pebbles! thought Mildrith stupidly, staring through the crack.

"Killing always gets my cock stiff!" growled the Dane as he dragged Edwina to the bed. He threw her on it and rucked her skirts and petticoats up around her waist. He tore down her drawers and unbuckled his sword belt with the same motion. Then he pulled down his leathern breeches and mounted her.

It was Edwina's turn to moan as the Dane entered her, his hard member spreading her underused pussy lips. He groaned as he thrust his full length into her and then began to fuck her. The smacks of his mount against her crotch gained rhythm. To her horror, Mildrith saw that Edwina was moving with him, arching her back to help him gain deeper penetration. Her moans grew in volume, but now she cried out as well.

"Omigod! Jesus God! Mother of God! What are you doing to me? I'm cumming! I'M CUMMING! I'M CUMMING!"

The Dane slowed his thrusts into her and stopped. Edwina felt his weight on her as he lay inert for a moment, his organ still hard and deep inside her. She moved her hips to milk his penis with her pussy and the Dane grunted, "You're a good fuck! You really want me to shoot my load in you, don't you?"

Mildrith drew her dirk and emerged from the closet. It was only a couple of steps to the bed, and on the last one, the floorboard creaked under her shoe. The Dane turned his head toward her, but he was too late. Mildrith already had her dirk raised and she drove it into his left side. He struggled to grab her wrist, but she wrenched it out and stabbed him again. And again. She was oblivious to the spurting blood, his gasping oaths and Edwina's screams.

Incredibly, he managed to raise himself off the bed to face Mildrith. She shrank back a step, avoiding the tangled bodies of Connor and the first Dane. As he reached toward her, he toppled forward, and his flailing fingers hooked themselves in the neckline of her white wedding gown. He fell to the ground, his weight tearing open her bodice and revealing her bustier.

Mildrith looked from the dead Dane at her feet to her maid sprawled on the bed. Edwina's pert breasts quivered as she panted noisily, making her still hard nipples tremble. Her legs were wide open and as Mildrith watched, a thin trickle of feminine sexual fluids seeped out of her swollen pussy lips.

Edwina looked at Mildrith with equal fascination. Her mistress was an incongruous sight, with the skirts of her white wedding gown stained red to match her choker and bustier, blood dripping off her dirk and her gauzy wedding veil trailing down her back. Her plump breasts rose and fell with her pants, straining at the laces of her very tight satin bustier. It was all that was left of her clothing above her waist.

"Well," said a deep voice. "Looks like you've had quite a battle here. Killing and sex, always a potent combination."

Grier leaned on the doorjamb, holding his bloody sword with a nonchalant air.

"Godless pagan!" breathed Mildrith. "You'll roast in hell!"

"I salute you, Lady Mildrith," said Grier. "Your little group here has killed more of my men than all the rest of your men put together." He touched the Dane at her feet with his boot and gestured toward Edwina in the bed. "Poor Sven. Did he at least get to fuck the girl?"

"You're disgusting!" Mildrith cried. "Edwina is a Christian woman, wed in holy matrimony. But nothing is sacred to you godless infidels."

"Speaking of matrimony, you must be Lady Mildrith, married today to the son of Ealdorman Hollis. I am sorry he was in such a terrible hurry to leave. I would not have attacked your fort if his men had been here."

"My father-in-law is on his way here, pagan. You had best leave immediately for he will not spare you when he gets here."

"Oh, I don't think he'll be here for quite some time. We watched Burke and his men galloping away. And one of my scouts heard him saying that he never wished to see Newhaven again."

"My husband ..." began Mildrith.

"Has left you in your white gown," completed Grier. "But a bride must be fucked on her wedding day."

Mildrith held her dirk ready.

"You'll have to kill me, pagan!" she snarled. "Use your sword and make it quick."

"Oh, I'd much rather use my cock and make it last," Grier said, laughing. "You're a feisty girl! I'll wager you're as hot in bed as your hair is red."

Grier's hand moved so quickly that Mildrith did not even see it. He caught her wrist and squeezed it till her fingers splayed and the dirk clattered to the floor. He picked it up and stuck it in his belt.

"There!" he said, twisting her arm behind her back. "Let's go to your master suite, shall we? It is so much more comfortable." He nodded to Edwina. "You too. You want to be part of the wedding festivities, don't you?"