By Jerome Brooke
“Play another tune, with thy lyre, pretty lad!” called one of the shieldmaidens. “A lay of war!”
The women were gathered round the campfire. They wore red tunics, of a rough weave. I began to sing.
“Artemis, send us victory this day,
“Drive before us the foe,
“As them we do slay,
“Artemis, send us victory…”
The captain of the troop rose, and came up to me, where I sat. She cast a silver coin before me. I grasped the coin, and put it into my pouch. The woman gave me a loaf of bread that she was eating.
“Your voice is sweet, dear one,” she said, as I tore into the bread. “Come, I am tired from the ride today, come to my tent.”
The warrior pulled me into her tent, and then tore my tunic off. She then cast off her own garments. She took my arm, and pulled me down onto her blanket. She climbed atop me, forcing me back onto the mat. The two other women in the tent came near to watch. Soon, she cried out in passion. She then slipped to the side, and stopped to catch her breath. After a few moments, she moved atop me once more.
After she was finished with me, another one of the women took her turn. When she and he comrade had both been satisfied, the captain returned. She lay at my side, seeking a taste of sweet mead.
I was allowed to remain in the tent until morning. I had been with the chariot regiment for a few days. One of the women had heard me playing in an Inn. She had given me a coin to return to her camp with her.
When the squadron was ready to go forth, the captain called me to her side. She extended her hand, and helped me to climb into the chariot.
“Come, pretty boy. You will be used by my comrades tonight. Do not fret, we will not harm you!”
- - -
Jerome Brooke was born in Evansville, Indiana. He now lives in the Kingdom of Siam. He has written Our Lady of Silk and many other books.
Labels: Jerome Brooke