Bran-hard found, to his surprise, that he was holding his breath. He let it out with a slow hiss as her hands found his manhood and began to play with it. She was skilled beyond any he had ever known. His eyes closed, and pure pleasure such as he had never experienced filled his being. Her little fingers stroked him slowly, lingeringly at first. Then pushing the covering from his battering ram, she worked him swiftly. He began to ache with his great need. "Aelfa," he groaned hungrily, catching his hand in her hair and drawing her closer to him. "I want you, Aelfa!"

Giggling, she took his cloak and spread it upon the narrow floor of the tiny gatehouse. Laying down upon it, she opened her legs wide and said huskily, "Come, stuff me with that great pole of yours, Bran-hard! You want me every bit as much as I want you! No one will come and find us. All are abed, and we may take our pleasure. As much of it as we like!"

He could not have stopped himself if he had wanted to. She was beautiful, and she was hot for him. No man in his right mind would refuse Aelfa's plea. With a low cry he fell upon her, pushing his engorged organ into her hot, wet sheath; humping her almost violently while she encouraged him onward, murmuring a soft stream of foul yet madly exciting obscenities into his ear as she writhed wildly beneath him. He was astounded that she would know such words, for she looked so pure, but it lessened his guilt at using her so enthusiastically.

She seemed to fill him with incredible strength, and his lust knew no bounds. He pumped and pumped and pumped himself into her, while Aelfa twisted and moaned beneath him, her little cries arousing him even further. Finally he could no longer contain himself and his passions burst violently within her throbbing body. He collapsed upon her with a groan of satisfaction. "By Woden, wench, you are the best! I have never had better, I swear it!" His oniony breath assailed her.

"Get off me, you oaf," she said, "you are crushing me."

He rolled away from her. "Where's that wine you brought?" he demanded, feeling relaxed now and more in control of the situation. "Let's have a drink together, and then I'll give you another bit of a poke if you're of a mind. You will be, won't you?" he said with a leering grin. "I've never known such a woman as you, Aelfa. You be one of those girls who cannot get enough, aren't you?" He sat himself back down upon his stool, pulling his garments into some semblance of order again. Then reaching out for her, he drew her near, tweaking the rosy nipples of her full, fat breasts. Her clothing had never given him any indication that she had such fine teats, but they were magnificent.

Rutting fool, Aelfa thought as she smiled up at him. She lifted up the skin of wine and pretended to drink before handing it on to him. "Hmmmm, 'tis good," she said as he swilled away, some of the purple-red liquid drizzling down into his thick blond beard.

Bran-hard let the sweet, cool liquid run down his throat. It was the best "drink he had ever tasted. Wulf Ironfist lived well. He handed her back the wineskin and began to fondle Aelfa's big breasts. "You've the best pair I've ever seen, wench," he said by way of a compliment, "and your cunt is the tightest of any I've ever reamed. I swear it! You really know how to give a man his pleasure, Aelfa. I can hardly believe it, but I'm ready to have at you again. On your back, my girl," he said, as loosing his organ from his clothing once more, he pushed her down to the floor.

What he lacked in subtlety he more than made up for in endurance and brute strength, Aelfa thought, as she pretended to be overcome with passion. She had taken her own pleasure with him the first time, but now she could not allow herself the luxury. When his lust exploded again and he rolled away from her, she offered him the wineskin once more, smiling encouragingly as he gulped down the potent liquid. This time, within moments, Bran-hard fell into unconsciousness. Aelfa sighed with her relief. She was actually sore with his enthusiastic attentions. A third bout with him would have certainly rendered her raw.

She rose from the floor of the gatehouse, and after much effort, managed to drag Bran-hard's limp, heavy body back onto his stool. His shaggy head lay upon his chest. He appeared to be dozing. She slipped from the building and ran quickly back across the courtyard to the hall. Letting herself in, she hurried to her bed space. The hall was quite silent, the contented snores of its inhabitants the only sounds she heard.

Aelfa put on her clothes and then returned to the gatehouse where Bran-hard sat, unconscious. Seating herself upon the floor, where she would not be seen, she waited for the predawn. When it finally came, Aelfa stood up, stretched, and then leaving the gatehouse went directly to the great gates of Cadda-wic. Slowly and with great difficulty, she pushed the heavy bar that lay across one of the gates to one side. Above her the sky was quickly lightening. Perspiration, half due to exertion, half to fear of discovery, rolled down her back as she struggled with the bar. When at last she succeeded, the single door swung open to reveal a large party of armed men.

"Uncle," Aelfa said archly. "Welcome to Cadda-wic."

"You have done well, niece," Ragnar Strongspear said, and then led his men quietly through the gates into the courtyard. "Where is the mistress of the hall? And how long before Wulf Ironfist's return?"


"Cailin sleeps in the solar with her children," Aelfa replied. "As for her husband, he should return in a few days' time, I expect."

"Secure this place," Ragnar said to his second-in-command, Harald, and then he turned back to Aelfa. "Fetch the lady Cailin to me, girl, and her children, too. I will want food also."

"Yes, Uncle," Aelfa said. She hurried off back into the hall to do his bidding, only realizing too late that Cailin always drew the ladder to the solar up each night. There was no other way into the room but through the trapdoor. As Ragnar strode into the hall, she ran back to him and explained the dilemma.

"No matter," he said. "She must come down, eventually, and I will be waiting for her. The lady Cailin is a most toothsome wench."

"You desire her?" Aelfa was surprised. She thought Cailin far too prim and proper for her lusty uncle. She was also too old, being past twenty.

"Do not be fooled by her dignity and manners, girl," he told her. "Beneath it all she is a woman, and a fiery woman, I will wager."

The sleepy and surprised inhabitants of Cadda-wic were roused and brought before Ragnar Strongspear. Outside, the men-at-arms were rounded up, subdued, and marched into the hall, including the half-conscious Bran-hard.

"This place is now mine by right of conquest," Ragnar said in a sonorous voice. "No harm will come to you if you obey my wishes. If you try to rebel, you will be killed. Now start your day as you normally would, and someone bring me some food. I am fair starved!"

For a moment they looked at him, still but half awake, and totally unaware of what they should do. How had this happened? How had Ragnar Strongspear gained entry to Cadda-wic? It was a common thought.

"You will obey Ragnar Strongspear for now," Cailin said as she came into their midst. "I want none of you harmed." She was very beautiful in a dark green tunic dress decorated with gold threads. Cailin turned to Ragnar and demanded in proud tones, "How came you here?"

His eyes devoured her. By Woden, she was a beauty, and he would have her this night beneath him! "By means of a Trojan horse," he answered her. "Do you know the story? Antonia told it me."

Cailin nodded. "I know the tale well," she said, and then a light of understanding dawned in her eyes. Her gaze swept the room and found what it was seeking. "Aelfa," she said. "Aelfa was your Trojan horse, was she not, Ragnar Strongspear? Who is she?"

"My brother Gunnar's eldest daughter. She is fifteen, and very wily," he said, chuckling.

"The girl, Aelfa, has betrayed us," Cailin told the gathering of her people. "She is Ragnar Strongspear's niece."

A terrible groan arose from Bran-hard. "Bitch!" he cried, and then flung himself before Cailin. "Lady, you must forgive me! I desired her, and she knew it. She came to me last night as I kept watch and offered herself to me. Then she fed me drugged wine to render me unconscious. It is my fault that the hall is taken! Forgive me!"

"You are a fool, Bran-hard, but get up and go about your duties. What is done is done, although you are not likely to escape some punishment from my husband when he returns," Cailin told him.

Bran-hard scrambled to his feet. His complexion had a decidedly yellow-green tinge to it. He looked as if he would be sick at any moment. "Thank you, lady," he managed to gasp.

Cailin realized now that the reason Aelfa had fixed her attentions on poor Bran-hard and the hapless Albert was that they were the two men assigned to the gatehouse. Each took his turn in rotation, keeping the watch through the night. Aelfa did not care for either of them, and poor Albert could have just as easily been her victim had he been on duty last night. It was only bad luck for Bran-hard that it had been his turn.

"How did Aelfa communicate with you?" Cailin asked Ragnar as they seated themselves at the high board and the hall regained some semblance of normalcy. "I sensed something wrong, but did not know what."

He looked eagerly toward the end of the hall for the servants who would soon be coming from the cook house with the morning meal. Ragnar well remembered the good table Cailin kept. "I had a man on the hill watching from the day you found her at your gates," he told Cailin, and then he gulped down the good brown ale poured into his cup. "I've never tasted better," he complimented her with a grin.