Guthrun was 19, and a few months. In the time-measures of those days, she was of age 254 new-moons. Her mother had kept her away from temptation, especially men, so that an advantageous match would be made in due course. But Mamma's plan was about to go wrong.
Guthrun's family lived very many years ago, on the west coast of an island off the continent not yet known as Europe, but gradually coming under the control of a violent empire centred on a city called Roma. There were no countries, as such, anywhere on that continent: only tribes, communities, language-groups and trading partners. Guthrun's people called themselves the Family of Sedonda, and they occupied a long stretch of the west coast of an island that Roman invaders would eventually name Britannia. It would take five days of steady walking and horse riding to cover the Family's territory along a coastline with many estuaries, inlets and tiny islands. And the Family made its livelihood from fishing, coastal farming and trading around neighbouring coasts, islands and seas. The Sedonda did not regard themselves as a tribe: they were more civilised, sophisticated, better organised and led than a mere tribe. They were a Family.
No one knew who Guthrun's father had been; not even her mother, for certain. She had been an affectionate and sensuous young woman herself all those years ago. He was probably a dairy farmer, since that was the dominant occupation in Brymburgha, at the southern end of Sedonda territory.
Actually, no one was sure who Sedonda had been. Some said he was a fierce warrior that had conquered the lands now occupied by the Family. Others said she was a prolific mother [beautiful, of course] who had given birth to dozens of strong sons, who had then roamed the world for wives and mothers of the new nation. The Family was governed by myth and legend.
There was no doubt that Guthrun was a beauty. In fact, she was the most attractive young women in the Family, and everyone agreed who met her; or had simply heard about her. Her hair was raven-black and shone like the starry night sky. Her face was a picture of human perfection; shapely nose, bright and wide eyes, full lips that smiled and spoke with animation, a throat that a man may almost hold with one hand. Guthrun also had adopted the figure style since her childhood of wearing a broad horse-leather belt at her waist; closed with buckles at the front and laced to tightness with hardened leather thongs through metal eyes at the back. So her waist was small by comparison with her hips; and with other women. Her breasts were perfect for a young virgin, strong and shaped upwards, with small dark nipples and needed no support from the usual chest girdle used by other women at the time. Her skin was the colour of milk from one of the family's goats. Such a beauty; and her mother was proud to have given her life. But Mamma's plan for Guthrun was about to go wrong.
The chieftain of the Family was known as the Dwysoch, meaning the Father of the Family. In modern times, this title can be seen still in the Welsh word Tywysog, meaning Prince; and the Irish leader, the Taoiseach. Their Dwysoch had reached the age of 500 new-moons, without a living son. Such a situation had not arisen for three generations, but now precipitated a crisis in Family leadership. Accordingly, Dwysoch had declared that the Family should employ the process of Gurt Trwytho. Guthrun's mother was dismayed. Literally the name implied a great impregnation, a great fathering, and she knew that this was a way to procreate the next Dwysoch. Girls and young women were selected to engage in a great copulation with many men from within the Family. This was the Sedonda version of democracy; with so many men involved, it was impossible to say who was the father. Many men could claim to be the father of Dwysoch, and thus that special honour was shared around the whole family.
Sometimes, the Gurt Trwytho was called humorously the Gurt Tranken: the great soaking or drenching. Guthrun's mother did not know why this term was used but she found the idea not at all humorous. It had not happened in her parent's time, or even in her grandparents'. And now her beautiful daughter would not marry a notable landowner or trader or great warrior; which had been the mother's plan. Even if Guthrun did not become pregnant, which high-status man would want a wife who had copulated already with a 5 or 10 other men; and maybe 20 or 30 other men? Who knew how many it would be?
Accordingly, twenty young women, all virgins, were chosen from all the females in the Family; aged between 240 and 300 new-moon. And, of course, Guthrun was chosen because she was well-known to be of an age that made her a potential baby-maker. The fact that she was also known for her great beauty ensured that many men would be happy to impregnate her if possible. The Gurt Trwytho was popular, as one might expect, but required massive organisation. This was placed in the hands of the Guardians, the main legal personages of the Family, and the Handmaidens to the Dwysoch. The roles of these Handmaidens was as contentious then as it has been among historians ever since. Were they concubines, or housekeepers, or nannies for prospective children, or secretaries and organisers? No one knew and no one asked, in case it opened a serious question on the lifestyle of the Dwysoch.
One moon later, the day came when Guthrun's mother was ordered to deliver her daughter to the Dwysoch-Harstell at Clyvalla, at the northern extreme of Sedonda territory. In modern language: the Chieftain's Hall at Cleveleys. It involved five sunrises of hard travel, with two perilous estuary-crossings; renowned for their cross currents and sudden tidal surges. When Guthrun reached the Hall, she was the tenth to arrive and she knew some of the young women; distant cousins Aoife and Moirin; and neighbour Uinagh. None of them knew what to expect, except that sexual penetration would be required, and they spoke excitedly about the ritual; and not without some trepidation since they were all virgins. They did not wait long in their ignorance.
Early in the morning, all were ceremonially bathed by the Dwysoch's Handmaidens, and told they could wear one item of clothing. Otherwise, they were led naked to the Dwysoch-Harstell. Aoife tried to wear her petticoat that but was refused; so she chose her neck-scarf. Moirin chose her hat, which she thought showed off her hair and her height. Of course, Guthrun chose her broad leather belt and pulled it a little tighter to exaggerate her waist. Other young women selected shoes or necklaces or bangles; all of which were permitted. But nothing that covered hips or buttocks.
All twenty were taken to the special Hall and each was instructed to kneel on a narrow padded bench facing a wall in a large room. Guthrun was leaned forward against a padded support between her breasts and down her torso. Then instructed to place her hands on two shelves in front of her knees. To her consternation, her knees were parted as far as she could manage and strapped to the bench. Also, her shoulders were strapped to the front support and her wrists to the front shelves. Effectively, she was spread out like a frog. She could not move at all and she rebelled.
"Nay, gadiwch i mi fynd. Mae hyn codi ofn i mi," she burst out in her local Celtic dialect.
"No, let me go. This scares me."
"Fy annwyl, ei fod ar gyfer eich diogelwch eich hun," the elderly Handmaiden started her attempt to comfort Guthrun.
"My dear, it is for your own safety. Trust me. The men may push you around a little, otherwise. Rest now and be easy. I shall be here to watch and help you if you need me."
And she kissed Guthrun's forehead, as an aunt or grandmother might do.
Guthrun was not very much comforted and looked along the line of women; each also strapped into the same kneeling position. About four strides apart, and each in her own mating-frame. Aoife was crying out loud. Uinargh had her head down on the front support, her shoulders rising and falling with her silent sobs. These sights did not reassure Guthrun at all. And then Guthrun's entire wooden frame was raised and tipped forward, so that her bottom was higher than her shoulders. And she could hear all the other mating-frames being tipped forward at the same time.
After less than a few heartbeats, a door opened behind the women, and a crowd of people came silently into the Hall. She could not see the crowd but detected that there were many. She did realise, though, that these people would be confronted with twenty raised bottoms, vulvae, widely-spread thighs, upturned feet and almost nothing else.
