The young peasant girl stretched her back and picked up the last basket of potatoes for the day. She had been working hard from when the day began breaking and the sun shone on the vast landscape to now, late afternoon.
She felt her young bones and muscles ache under the hard days labour and wearily began to haul the basket to the pile collected at the edge of the field. Other villagers assisted in lifting the potatoes onto the cart. She was glad her work was done for the day and was looking forward to bathing in her secret place at a nearby river.
She waited for her reward. Each of the peasant's huts would be allowed twenty potatoes for themselves, the rest would be carted to the Lord of the Manor for his use and selling on the market to maintain his vast wealth.
She was, like her fellow workers, a serf, poor, and the lowest class of the feudal society of her time. She and her parents occupied a plot of land and were required to work for the Lord of the Manor who owned that land. In return, she and her family were entitled to his protection, justice and the right to exploit certain fields within the manor to maintain their own subsistence.
Serfs were often required not only to work on the Lord's fields, but also his mines, forests and roads. The Manor formed the basis of her feudal society and the Lord of the Manor and his Serfs were bound legally, economically, and socially.
Their existence, although harsh and dependent on the kindness of their Master was not such a bad life. They had a roof over their heads, food on their table and the people who lived in the huts had formed into a somewhat extended family and her small village or settlement of fellow workers helped one another when needed.
All of them worked three days a week for the Lord as payment for rent and were also expected to pay banalities (dues) to him for use of his mill, fishing his river and hunting rabbits or other animals on his land. The free days were worked on their own plots allocated to each hut. They would give a third of the produce to their master.
Basket handed in to the Cart men, she began her walk home on the dusty farm track, with her twenty potatoes for the family. The summer breeze was pleasant on her over exerted and tired body.
Raisa, her name meant Rose, had just turned 18 and was fit as a fiddle. She had worked the fields from about the age of 5, helping her mother where possible. Her father worked the roads and mines.
She was now at an age that required her to get married. Her parents had found her a suitor, a boy who was a couple of years older than she. She had known of him from an early age and was expected to marry him when she came of age. Luckily, they liked each other when they eventually met. They were duly betrothed. He was honest, hard-working and worked with her father.
As she walked home, she heard running feet, padding the dirt track, and her face broke in to a smile - it was her Garrick.
"Raisie," he called to her and offered her a shiny red apple, he had polished on his coarse jacket. She took the apple gratefully and bit into it. The succulent juices fired her taste buds.
"Grammarcy (Thank you) my love," She thanked him.
"Our hut wilt be ready for our matrimony" He informed her proudly. (Our home will be ready in time for our wedding)
He had been working on it none stop since she had accepted his proposal and had recently finished the outer wooden structure and padded it with wattle (woven twigs) moss, straw, mud and animal dung to insulate it from the weather.
He was an accomplished carpenter and was now making furniture. In turn she had made curtains and was knitting and making blankets for them from rabbit skins and woven wool. It was situated not far from their parents so they could all help each other in the winter months.
Garrick picked her up and twirled her round.
She laughed out loud at his enthusiasm and scolded him affectionately. "Put me down, Garrick. Thou shalt have to be patient till our wedding night." (Put me down, Garrick. You will have to wait till our wedding night)
He cupped her head and looked lovingly into her eyes, "Now that is something I wilt relish. To feel thy body under mine as I deflower thy beauty and make thee into a woman. My woman."
(Now that is something I will look forward to. To fuck my beautiful wife and make her a woman at last)
She blushed at his promising words and he laughed softly at her embarrassment. He lowered his head and kissed her gently.
"Till Saturday" He promised, the day set for their wedding ceremony. "Methinks I need to finish our matrimonial bed."
(Till Saturday, I need to finish building our bed).
He stroked her face and bid her farewell. Then turned to take a different track to collect more wood for his venture.
She watched him walk away and felt the familiar surge of attraction. He had a fine fit body and his sense of humour and good nature was infectious. She loved him and was looking forward to their life together.
She arrived home and gave her mother the potatoes. Her mother was preparing the evening meal, stoking the fire underneath a pot of water. Her father hadn't arrived home yet.
"I shalt go thither to cleanse at the river," (I'm going to the river to wash) Raisa told her and picked up an old hessian sack to use as a towel, a home-made soap ball made from a mixture of olive oil, lavender buds and rose petals, and a clean cotton dress.
Her mother nodded and told her the food would be ready in about an hour.
Raisa walked to her secret place by the river. It was a little section of the river that was naturally secluded by the location of the trees and shrubs. She had cleared a little area and planted roses, daffodils and assorted plants and flowers.
Her favourite, however, was the two toned pink and white petalled lotus flowers with a yellow centre surrounded by green leaves and shrubbery. They were very pretty growing in the shallows of a river's inlet, almost in their own pond, where the water hardly flowed. They provided a natural fence to the murkier river water and separated her cleaner bathing area.
It was her little garden and piece of heaven. The area was big enough for her to bathe and sit to enjoy the summer weather when work and chores permitted. Her mother had always taught her how important personal hygiene was to keep healthy and prevent disease.
The water, although cold was waist deep and over time, she had moved the rocks and made an area perfect for bathing and there were even boulders ideal for sitting in and out of the water.
She removed her cheap working dress and completely naked stepped into the gently flowing water.
The water was cold. Her nipples immediately puckered and became pointed and her breath caught as she adjusted to the sudden change in temperature. Then she slowly lowered her womanly figure into the water until she was covered up to her neck.
The feeling was bliss on her aching body and she shut her eyes as the water encircled her and caressed her skin. After a few moments she began her cleaning regime. She lowered her head backwards, soaking her long red hair in the water. She felt the running water take her hair in the flow of the river and tease the day's dust out of the strands.
The arched movement of her back, thrust her chest to break the water's surface and it swirled pleasantly around her nipples and ample mounds. Underneath the surface, her hips thrust forward and the water ruffled her pubic hair.
Her pale, freckled skin contrasted with the rich dark blue of the river and the orange hue and reflections of the sun. The rays of the sun shone down on her nude female body, reflecting and shadowing her curves in breath taking natural beauty.
The image of the naked woman enjoying the river and solitude was one he could not take his eyes from. He watched from his horse in silence, enjoying her. No red blooded man would ride on from such a beautiful vision. So he sat and watched unashamed, taking in the beauty of her nudity, her full rounded breasts and erect nipples. They stretched and swayed in her actions of washing her glorious red straight hair. Her body was framed in the glow of the slow sinking sun. She was stunning.
