1. Arianrhod


    Date: 9/14/2015, Categories: Historical, Author: BethanyFrasier, Rating: , Source: LushStories

    silky, flaxen locks. The wedding party danced through the afternoon and into the evening, until the ale was exhausted. The townspeople wished the couple their best, and gradually repaired to their homes to sleep off the brew. With tears in his eyes, Padrig kissed his bride goodnight, and the vicar led her away to her deflowering. Arianrhod cast a last, wistful glance over her shoulder to her groom and disappeared into the darkness. A cart had been sent from Widdlesten Manner, and the vicar helped her up to her seat behind the driver. With a slight bow, he sent her on her way, to the jingle of cowbells. Along the rutted path to Widdlesten Manner, her sister caught her up in the darkness, and pushed a small purse into Arianrhod's hands, giving her a kiss, and whispering a message. Lord Bale rose at the clap of the iron ring on the strike plate of his oaken outer door, and waited for the servants to escort his young guest to his bed chamber. A moment he had long awaited was at hand, and he had planned meticulously to make this night happen. A man of endless confidence, he had always charged into any fray, prepared to conquer, through wit or through guile. He had never been disabused of his belief in his own self-importance, and the certainty that God and fortune were both on his side. His Lordship had been with many women, and owing to his titles and wealth, they were always submissive to his wants. Arianrhod was not the first maiden he had deflowered. Between the Abbot and ...
    himself, nearly every maiden in the township had surrendered her virtue to one or the other of them - at least the pretty ones, whom they both took pains to maneuver into their own beds by connivery, especially if she was particularly comely. The deviousness by which Bale had plotted to arrange for Arianrhod's wedding night had descended to new lows in dis-ingenuity! Sir Setheryn Bale stood at the balustrade at the top of the ornate stairs leading up to his bed chambers, and watched as the young bride entered his front hall and climbed the stairs to him. He greeted her respectfully, and gestured her towards his room, staying outside the door to give instructions to the servants to close up the house for the night and retire. Arianrhod pulled something from her bag and squeezed it gently with her fingers. She wet her fingers and lifted the hem of her wedding gown. In a moment, the Lord of the manner appeared in the doorway, looking her over from head to toe, then he closed the heavy door behind him. "You were perhaps expecting to be delivered to the Abbot tonight, lass. His Holiness is, unfortunately, out of the borough at the moment, and he has asked me to act in his behalf." "I am yours then, m'Lord," she said quietly, deferentially. "I expected you long before this, girl." "I was brought as soon as the celebration ended, sir." "That was not my meaning. You are late to wed, Arianrhod, especially for one so fair." "A girl can only wed when she is asked, Sire." "Were you ...
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