Chapter 4 Taking On the Baliff
Marian and I had breakfast together, and then, made our way to the stables. The cart was ready, and the driver waiting, and soon, we were on our way. It was a nice day, and the scenery was beautiful. The countryside was lush and green, and the fields were full of livestock. There was a sense of peace and tranquillity, and it was hard to believe that, just a few weeks earlier, the land had been at war.
The trip to Wakefield took about 4 hours, and when we arrived, the town was bustling. People were busy going about their daily business, and the air was filled with the sounds and smells of the town. We passed through Wakefield, to use the bridge and headed on to Sandal, where the castle was. As we approached, we could see the soldiers guarding the gates, and we were stopped and asked our business. Marian produced the appropriate documents, and we were allowed to pass.
We made our way through the gate, and into the enclosed bailey. A young man took our horses and unhitched them. "I'll feed and water them, my Lady." He addressed Marian.
"Thank you," she replied.
"Come," she said, motioning for me to follow.
We entered the castle proper, and were met by a steward, who bowed low.
"Welcome, my Lady," he said, and looked at me enquiringly.
"This is Sir Robin," Marian said, "he is my guest., and an old member of the castles retinue."
"Very well, my Lady," the steward replied, "please, follow me." He looked at me suspiciously, but said no more.
We followed him to the Great Hall, and he ushered us inside.
"I will fetch the bailiff," he said, and hurried away.
Marian and I stood in the Hall, and waited. After a few minutes, the steward returned, and announced.
"The bailiff will see you now, my lady"
"Thank you," Marian replied.
"Please, come with me. JUST her ladyship, please, Sir Knight." He says. Preventing me from accompanying her further.
"Thank you Sir Robin, it will be fine, I'm sure," she said and entered the room the steward had indicated. Marian closed the door, leaving us alone.
The steward proceeded to interrogate me.
"Now then, Sir Knight, let's see about you, eh? What's your story, eh?"
"My name is Sir Robin of Loxley. I was captured in the Holy Land, and have returned to my homeland, recently," I replied.
"And what, pray tell, are you doing here, Sir Knight, and with her ladyship, no less?" The steward demanded.
"I am a soldier, and I have sworn allegiance to her ladyship. She is a kind and generous mistress," I said.
"Hmmm," the steward grunted. "I will be the judge of that. Now, Sir Knight, if you would be so kind as to wait here, while her ladyship and the bailiff conclude their business, then perhaps we can all have a drink and get better acquainted."
"Of course, Sir," I said.
The steward disappeared into another room, and a few minutes later, Marian emerged, and gave me a knowing smile.
"What did you tell him?" I asked.
"The truth, of course," she replied.
"You told him the truth?" I asked.
"I certainly did," she said, smiling.
"So, he knows the whole story?"
"No, not the whole story," she replied.
"Only that I am your mistress, and you are my guest, and that we have a good and long history together," she smiled.
"And the reason for our visit?" I asked.
"Why to pay my taxes, of course. Now, come, the bailiff has invited us to share a cup of wine with him. He is a good man, and a loyal servant of the crown."
"Very well," I said, "lead on, my Lady."
We were led into the Great Hall, and the bailiff stood, and bowed.
"My Lady," he said, "you are most welcome. Please, take a seat."
"Thank you, Sir," she replied.
"Allow me to introduce my colleague, Sir Robin, who has recently returned from the Holy Land.
"Well, Sir Robin, you are welcome. How is the Holy Land?"
"Hot, sir, very hot," I replied.
"Hah, I'll bet. So, what brings you back to these cold and damp climes?"
"A desire to return to my King and my country," I replied.
"Ah, an honourable knight. We are pleased to have you here. Now, My Lady, please, accept this cup of wine as a token of our appreciation," he said, filling her cup.
"Thank you, Sir, it is most appreciated," she replied.
"And for our returning friend," the bailiff said, filling my cup.
"Thank you, Sir," I said, raising the goblet to my lips. 'WARNING - toxic compounds: possibility of drowsiness or loss of consciousness' flashed up in front of my face. I smiled to myself; the alien device hadn't moved from the mud for at least thirty millennia before I discovered it, and obviously hadn't encountered alcohol before! I dismissed the warning and drank deeply from the cup. The winner was very good.
"Now, please, enjoy your wine, and let us discuss your taxes, My Lady," the bailiff said, sitting down.
"Certainly, Sir," she replied.
"It is an honour to receive such a distinguished guest, and we will make sure your stay is comfortable. I must admit, I am a little surprised that you have chosen to come here, instead of to one of the larger cities. This is a simple place, and we don't have many of the luxuries you may be used to," the bailiff said, with a slight look of concern on his face.
"Thank you, Sir, but I have had my fill of cities and towns. This place reminds me of my childhood, and it has a certain charm," she replied.
"Ah, yes, I understand. Well, you are welcome to stay as long as you like. The village has an inn, and it is clean and comfortable, and the food is excellent. Now, I must ask you a question. You say you have come here to pay your taxes, but I have no record of any taxes due. Are you sure you have come to the right place?"
"Quite sure, Sir. I have received a summons from the Sheriff's man, instructing me to pay my taxes here," she replied.
"A summons? I have not heard of any summonses being issued. Are you sure?"
"Quite sure, Sir," she replied.
"Perhaps the messenger was delayed," the bailiff said, thoughtfully.
"Yes, perhaps," she agreed.
"Well, I must ask you to forgive me, My Lady, but we cannot accept any taxes without the appropriate documentation," the bailiff said.
"That is understandable, Sir," she replied.
Marian's voice started to seem distant and odd. I looked at her and she was blinking and shaking her head. I tried to speak, but my tongue seemed paralysed.
"By God, we've been poisoned" she cried out as she staggered forwards onto her knees.
"No, by me actually," sniggered the balliff, "but the effect is much the same."
I felt myself pitch forward before I blacked out. I didn't feel the impact of the hard stone floor, thank goodness....
"Wake up, Sir Knight!" The bailiff's voice was a distant echo in my head.
"Wake up, Sir, or you'll miss the fun."
My head felt like it was made of lead.
"Come now, Sir Knight, you don't want to miss out, do you?" the bailiff said, his voice dripping with mockery.
I looked around the room, trying to focus on his face.
"Don't worry, Sir, I'm not going to kill you. Yet. No, you're far too useful for that," the bailiff laughed.
"Now, my good sir, it seems that your Lady is not who she says she is. We know that the real Marian is dead, so who, pray tell, is this woman?"
"Go to hell," I spat.
"Oh, now, don't be like that, Sir Knight. I'm only asking a question. If you help me, perhaps I will help you. I can make this pain go away, and you can live a comfortable life, here, in the castle. What do you say, Sir?"
"Go to hell," I repeated.
"Oh, come now, Sir, you can do better than that. I know you've been lying. You're not a knight, are you? No, you're a thief, or a spy. Who are you working for, Sir? The King? The Earl? Or perhaps you're working for the Scots?"
"I work for myself," I replied.
"I see. And what were you and your accomplice doing in the woods?"
"We were fucking," I replied.
"Ah, now, that's a different matter. I can't punish you for that. But, if you were using her as a distraction, while you and your accomplices robbed the rich and the innocent, then, yes, I can punish you for that."
"Go to hell," I repeated. I craned my neck to look past him at Marian, because I could hear a rythmic banging and grunting noise.
"Don't worry, Sir Knight, I'm going to let you watch. My men have really been enjoying her," the bailiff said, turning away from me.
"She is a beauty, isn't she? Such a shame she has to die. She's quite the whore, isn't she? She's been giving my men quite the fucking," he said, stroking his cock.
He moved aside and I finally got a good look at what was happening to Marian.
The bailiff's men had her tied up, suspended by her wrists from the top of a wooden grating which was leaving against the dungeon wall art about 80 degrees. Marian's ankles were also tied to the to of the grating, which put her knees each side of her ribcage. This position had the effect of exposing her vulva and anus to whoever wished to abuse them. Each of her breasts had been tightly bound at its base by a long and thin leather lace, causing them to stick out unnaturally, and to turn purple.
Marian was gagged with a thick leather strap. It had a hole cut through it at the mouth, presumably to slow access to a penis, as a thick stream of white, lumpy semen was oozing from the hole and dripping onto her tied tits. Tears also streamed from her reddened eyes, causing whatever they used for mascara in 1235 to run in black streaks from her reddened eyes, down each of her well-defined cheeks.
Marian's pussy and arsehole looked bruised and abused, gaping open and, like her mouth, oozing with the combined semen loads of multiple men. It dripped steadily from the lowest point of each arse cheek, and oozed slowly down the grating to a pool of spunk that had formed on the dirt floor.
As I looked, one of the baliff's men climbed up the grating, put one foot in each of the crooks of Marian's hips, which seemed to form natural stirrups, and thrust his disgusting, filthy hard cock through the gag into her throat, and began fucking her face.
"I'm sorry," I called to her, not that she could hear me over the sounds of the grunting, moaning and banging that echoed through the room.
