The Earl's ManChapter 8 free porn video

It was nearly noon before their army plodded into view. For our sake, I hoped they didn’t fight as good as they looked. Their knights were at the head of the column, horses prancing ostentatiously, and their banners flying proudly to announce themselves to the world.

The crossbowmen followed on foot, their part of the procession a multi-hued patchwork of different-colored uniforms representing each of the different nobles and clergy involved. The poorly clad peasant-soldiers had barely come into view when it was time to attack. Someday the world might come to understand that I didn’t believe in fighting battles like a gentleman, waiting for my enemy to form their ranks up before I attacked.

My first experience with conflict and the death war brings taught me four harsh lessons that still caused tightness in my chest when I thought about the bodies of my father, the Earl, his wife, and the Earl’s beautiful daughter.

War is not a gentleman’s game, played by chivalrous rules. The only applicable rule in war is kill or be killed. My father and the troops he commanded had been trained for a “gentleman’s war” and were dead because of it. Anyone who insists that war be played by civilized rules is an idiot--and will probably be a dead or conquered idiot because of it. “Civilized” and “war” go together like “breathing” and “underwater.”

From analyzing the bandits’ attack, had I realized the advantage of stealth and ambush, enabling a smaller and weaker force to overcome a vastly superior force, frequently with limited casualties.

I also learned from their attack to first concentrate on the biggest threat. In the bandit’s case, it had been the archers. Once they eliminated the archers, the remaining troops on the ground posed almost no threat to the bandits up in the trees.

I learned the value of scouts--not just someone traveling ahead of the column as I had been, but an experienced hunter/soldier. Had I any experience with attacks and fighting before the trip, I hoped that I would have recognized the trap waiting to be sprung when I originally rode through the ambush site and got the uneasy feeling.

My raids against the Barons taught me the value of speed and mobility. Had we not gotten to a different Barony each night they would have been waiting for us or their escape might have been successful.

I motioned to the bugler who sounded the “ready” signal. The hilltops along the road suddenly sprouted thousands of archers, appearing from behind the crest of the hills or from behind the hedges used by the farmers to mark their property or pasture boundaries.

While the knights tried hurriedly to form themselves into some sort of attack formation, I motioned the bugler again. Seconds later the “attack” signal sounded and a cloud of arrows rained down on the knights and archers. I nodded and another signal sounded, resulting in the release of a second cloud of arrows.

The peasant-soldiers froze with the first volley of arrows. With the second, they realized they were still alive. Dropping their weapons where they stood, they either ran back the way they came or stood still, hands on top of their heads indicating surrender.

The few professional soldiers ahead of them who hadn’t been wounded followed suit hoping to avoid yet another rain of death. I motioned and the bugler signaled a different tune. This time half of my troops advanced on the devastated army, followed by the Rouennaise civilians who had come with us to help. The civilians started moving a parade of waiting wagons toward the wounded.

Only two hundred of the professional enemy soldiers were completely unharmed or only had minor wounds. They were shackled and given tools to begin digging a massive grave for their dead comrades. I had also hired three hundred men from town to help dig the grave. Over half of the professional troops were dead, or died before sunset. Only nine hundred of the professional troops out of over three thousand eventually survived.

My troops removed all weapons from the dead and wounded troops. Once the weapons were completely out of reach, I allowed our carts and civilians to approach close enough to gather those weapons and take them back to town. People from other carts set up pavilions where the wounded were taken to be tended to. Other men tended to the wounded horses, caring for the ones that could be helped and putting down the others. As ghoulish as it was, boots, armor, and any other useful personal items were removed from the bodies before they were buried. The surviving soldiers identified most of their dead comrades so we could notify their families. We saved one complete uniform from each of the different nobles and clergy represented in case there was any dispute as to whether or not someone’s troops took part in the attack.

Late in the afternoon, Baron Rand and his troops came into view shepherding many of the troops who had run off and twenty-one of the nobles and clergy who had brought up the rear of the column and had also fled.

“Look what we found,” he gloated, leading the bound nobles and clergy to where I was “supervising.” There was a cacophony of protests from the nobles and clergy insisting that we free or ransom them immediately.

“Bind and gag them and put them in the dungeon in Rouen,” I ordered one of my aides.

Rand had left five hundred troops in every large town and manor they rode through on their way here. For more than two hours, we discussed the areas the troops had come from that he had just ridden through. After listening to differing opinions from everyone present, I decided we would annex Eu County and any land west of the Epte River. The majority of the land would be returned to the French--although it would be severely damaged.

Every town and manor involved in the attack that we would turn back over to France was to be emptied of everyone and everything. Starting with the towns and manors farthest from Normandy, a parade of wagons would remove every useful or valuable item. Every person in those towns and manors would be responsible for making sure that their personal property was packed and marked for later identification. The churches would be stripped to the walls, but those items were to be kept separate and then stored separately in a warehouse inside the castle grounds in Rouen until I appointed and reached an agreement with a new Archbishop for Normandy or until the Archbishop for the area of the rebellion promised no further interference and ransomed the valuables.

The people and their belongings would be relocated to different towns and manors throughout Normandy. Until King Edward could make permanent appointments, I appointed bailiffs for each of the involved Baronies in the new Normandy and in Eu. Generally, I appointed the commander of the troops temporarily stationed there. Nobles, their families, and clergy in the new Normandy who weren’t involved were still to be sent to Rouen, but would be released almost immediately to travel to Paris.

Once the towns and manors were empty, everything outside the walls should be destroyed--crops, dwellings, mills and any other buildings. I didn’t want to risk damaging any of the churches inside the towns for fear of starting another religious war. However, all cash and jewels from the churches should be confiscated separately. Unless they were religious artifacts, the jewels would be used in addition to the cash to help resettle the people we relocated. The citizen-soldiers were to return home to pack, help load, and then transport their belongings to their new homes.

My stomach knotted up, worried that a second column of troops had gotten between Rouen and us when a rider from town approached us at full speed. “King Edward’s ship is docking,” the breathless rider gasped.

“King Edward?” I asked incredulously. The gasping rider nodded his affirmation. “Fuck,” I muttered, my stomach knotting even tighter. I think I would have preferred another attack to deal with. “Does anyone wish to join me?” I asked jokingly. Suddenly, everyone else had something important that needed doing. I told Rand to hold off on my orders and instead to help finish up here while I went to greet the King.

I breathed a sigh of relief finding a cordon of well-dressed troops prepared for the King’s debarking--at least until I realized that nearly half of them were local citizens, wearing our uniforms and armed with captured French swords. I learned later they had volunteered to “help out” and were grinning knowingly at me when I realized they weren’t regular troops.

After his personal guard had debarked, the King followed. I started breathing again when I saw that he was grinning. “If only he knew,” I thought to myself, wondering what else could possibly go wrong.

I was grateful that he only shook my hand, thinking that he didn’t know about my injury until he asked how my chest was feeling. “It was a lot better before I had to gallop back here when I heard you were arriving,” I answered. Then he turned so we could see the next ten passengers daintily debarking from the ship, all decked out in what had to be the latest fashions from London. I bowed to the Queen, grimacing slightly. I had just righted myself when I was descended upon by my wives. I knew from their worried looks that they also knew about my injury.

I was practically stripped from the waist up so they could confirm for themselves that I would live. Only then was everyone finally able to leave the docks for the castle. On the way to the castle, my wives and the Queen ooohed and aaahed over the city and it’s towering cathedrals. “I can understand why you want to stay here,” the King commented as he, too, played spectator.

Diplomatically, my wives walked fashionably behind us--although the Queen insisted on walking with them, which made it impossible for them to walk properly behind her. That allowed the King and me to talk. He had received a message from one of Baron Leffingwell’s men. Having already intended to come and see things for himself he sent a courier to King Philip asking to meet in Rouen and another to my wives inviting them along. Obviously, my wives accepted.

I explained the situation of the rape and of Leffingwell’s confrontation with me. He listened intently when I explained what I’d done about the Baron and about the soldier, as well as Lt. Radley’s “punishment.” The King merely listened thoughtfully and stroked his beard as I told the tale.

“Well done,” was his only comment when I finished. “And what do you have planned for the Baron?” he asked.

“I had planned to bring him with me when I came to London to report to you. I’m not comfortable making a decision like that for one of your nobles.”

“I will talk with him, but I’m fairly certain he is guilty of an unprovoked attack on a Duke--which leaves me with another problem. His wife is the sister of the Queen. Even though my wife doesn’t care for the man, I don’t think she will take too kindly to her sister becoming your personal slave,” he explained thoughtfully.

“Perhaps his majesty should consider allowing her to be your personal slave,” I suggested.

Shaking his head no, he explained. “Even though I am entitled to more wives, like you, each must be approved by each previous wife. My wife is concerned about the possibility of a power struggle between future wives. She’s convinced that your wives only put on a show of getting along in public.”

“Were you out surveying your new lands?” he asked, changing the subject.

I grimaced and groaned after I laughed. “No, we had some unpleasant company to deal with this morning,” I answered, then gave him the details. I also explained what I had intended to do to the land and people involved in the attack.

“Go ahead and take everything of value, but don’t destroy the towns or manors just yet. I might be able to use them to bargain with in my talks with King Philip. They will be worth more undamaged. However, if you have credible confirmation that the Bishop of Beauvais was one of the main conspirators, I want his cathedral demolished. If he used it to help fund this attack, it is no longer a house of worship. It has become an instrument of war. This will serve as a harsh lesson to the rest of the clergy in the area to worry about the souls of their parishioners and not to become involved in matters of state,” he said gruffly.

I excused myself long enough to send the message to Rand along with orders. When they destroyed the cathedral, I wanted them to salvage as much of the stone as possible for building homes and walls in Rouen.

“The proof that the Bishop was involved is in the dungeon. I had him and any surviving nobles and other clergy who were involved bound, gagged and taken there earlier.” The King’s laughter echoed off nearby buildings for quite a while as he contemplated cells full of gagged nobles and clergy.

We finally got down to the request I had sent him. I couldn’t believe he agreed to everything. I was allowed to bring over any of the Aragonese and Castilian transplants willing to relocate again. The captured Iberian troops would be brought since they were slaves--but could be pardoned once they got here. Any of my troops from Lancaster and York wanting to relocate would be allowed to do so, as well as my mother and a few other relatives and key people from Lancaster that I had come to depend on. He agreed with the necessity of maintaining a very strong military force in Normandy--especially after this morning.

He inquired about any officers who might have distinguished themselves enough to deserve the title of Baron. My list included Captain Rutledge, Lt. Radley, Captain Leigh, and Captain Rolando of the Iberian troops. I also suggested Reyes for the remarkable job he did getting the new manor laid out and built, as well as maintaining the attitude and loyalty of everyone there during their difficult transition. I also let him know that Baron Rand had expressed an interest in moving to Normandy.

One of the King’s aides was dispatched to find maps showing Normandy and the area north and east of Normandy where the combatants had originated. As he was being dispatched, a young woman dressed impeccably as a servant entered and announced that dinner was ready.

I apologized in advance, explaining that I usually ate rather plain fare and hadn’t put much effort into putting together a staff yet. He waved off my apology as we were ushered to the formal dining room saying he understood, especially considering that I’d only been here a few days and had spent the time preparing for an attack.

He froze in the doorway for a moment before turning back to me laughing. Pointing at me while he laughed he said, “I really believed you and expected a peasant stew or something,” before continuing, still chuckling, into the dining room.

Following the royal couple, I was stunned upon entering the room. It was nothing less than I had experienced at the King’s table in London. Mutton, venison, and goose were the centerpieces on the tables which were cluttered with trays of fruit, cooked vegetables, even more varieties of cheese than I had seen in Paris, and more varieties of breads, along with several bottles of wine. Hundreds of candles in the chandeliers flickered brightly, showing off an impeccably dressed and groomed staff standing alertly along the walls or ready to help seat us. There were at least three servants for every guest. Somebody was going to be handsomely rewarded for this effort.

As dinner was nearly done, the wine definitely left me relaxed--and left my wives extremely giggly. The Queen had joined my wives and even joined in some of the giggling, although she looked shocked more than once. I found out later that she thought my wives were just putting on a good public facade about getting along so well. She was surprised to discover they really did enjoy each other’s company, even in private. One of the times she got a shocked look on her face was when they whispered just how much they enjoyed each other’s company in private. A few of the other details they let slip caused the other shocked looks.

A shrill female voice shouting something in French disturbed our small soiree. “I think that’s for you,” the King chuckled. “She’s demanding to speak with the idiot who had her brought here. Evidently, she’s King Philip’s niece,” he explained--still chuckling.

Interrupting the ladies’ giggling, I took a surprised Isabella with me to translate when I faced the shrieker.

The tirade intensified, directed at me once the young woman saw me. It was hard not to laugh as the scene reminded me of my first meeting with Isabella, except this stunning blonde barely cleared five feet and barely looked old enough to be considered a woman. After listening calmly to her tirade for several moments, I turned to Isabella who was grinning smugly, recognizing her own performance not so long ago.

“Would you please tell our beautiful visitor that I invite her to join us for dinner? I will have a room prepared for her and she is to be my guest. We are expecting her uncle any day.”

Isabella simply looked expectantly at her and cocked her head as if to say, “Well?” to the young woman who had stopped to listen.

“I assept your ‘ospitality,” the woman finally answered in sexily accented English.

“Duke Michael Miller at your service,” I offered as I took her hand and kissed it.

“Antoinette de Melun, niece of King Philip and daughter of Duke de Melun,” she answered gracefully with a well-practiced curtsey. One of the guards handed me a message from Rand listing every noble and Bishop who had sent troops against us. Of the twenty-nine involved, we had captured twenty-one earlier today. Four had been with the knights and died at the head of the column. They had captured two this afternoon, and two remained at large.

As I led Antoinette into the dining room, I caught the grins being passed between Isabella and the rest of my wives. Even before the look of surprise left her face, Antoinette curtsied to the King, and then the Queen, and then my wives whom I introduced. Her surprise at the number of wives I had was greater than at finding the King here. I asked the nearest serving girl to see that a room was readied for our guest. Once I seated Antoinette, I sat back down.

We kept her company while she ate. Even though she was obviously hungry, her table manners were impeccable--far better than mine, although mine improve daily with the constant reminders from my wives. Each time I’m outdoors for any length of time, though, they always slip, as I become used to sitting around the fire with the men, eating with just a bowl and spoon, talking, and laughing as we eat. The chatter among my wives was hushed for the first time all night, and even the Queen shared quick glances at our guest while joining in the hushed conversation. Fortunately, the King and Antoinette seemed oblivious to it.

Once Antoinette finished eating, I excused myself and left her in the capable hands of my wives. “I hope you will forgive my manners as your host, but we still have some tedious business to discuss. A room has been prepared for you if you are tired, or you may join the other beautiful women for the evening,” I offered, motioning towards my wives and the Queen.

“Thank you, my Lords,” she answered coyly as she curtsied to the King and to me before joining the other women.

The King and I retired to the study, which I had found only two days prior, to review the maps of the area. Reviewing the list of prisoners and nobles and clergy who had sent troops or actively joined the attack, the King began planning replacement nobles. Assuming that the remaining current nobles were willing to swear an oath of fealty to him, and would be willing to run their affairs in a manner acceptable to me, we made one set of plans. We were both sure that we’d end up losing several of the current Barons and contingency plans were made to have the new Barons and possibly some of the current ones oversee more than one manor for the time being.

While we planned, Lt. Radley showed up to report. They had finished with the battle site, having buried the bodies and transported the surviving wounded to Rouen for continued treatment. Rand had left shortly after receiving his new orders from my messenger to begin the systematic pillaging of the captured area we intended to return to King Philip.

“I’d hate to be only half finished with the looting when we have to return the area,” he commented to the messenger I sent.

I sent word to the barracks to have French-speaking messengers ready to leave at dawn--possibly the “new” members of the honor guard that had greeted the King today. They would go to every noble in Normandy, as well as the other areas we were keeping, requesting every noble to present himself at Rouen immediately. Most were given two days to be here after receiving the summons. Several with the farthest to travel were given three days. The summons explained that they would be required to swear an oath of fealty to King Edward and agree to abide by my rules. If they could do that, they would be allowed to return home immediately. If not, they would be allowed to collect their family and belongings before leaving for Paris.

Satisfied with what we accomplished, we gathered our female counterparts and headed for bed. I should have realized what was going on when Antoinette snuck in a quick kiss on my cheek after curtseying to the King and me and before scurrying, laughing, down the hall to her room.

My wives were gentle with me, but each one insisted on a short ride before letting Margaret and I make love. Even knowing what ingenious, talented, and horny women they are, I was still surprised at their latest gadget. The deer-antler phalluses I had lovingly carved for them had seen constant use since I finished them. I enjoyed watching a wife or slave manually fucking another wife or slave with them since I finished the first one for Margaret, Gemma, and Abby to use on each other.

Now, they had sewn a leather harness that buckled around their hips with a strap that ran between their legs and attached in the back to the waist strap. In the front of the harness was a triangle of leather that covered the area of their pubic hair. They cut a hole strategically where my cock would protrude if I wore the harness. The hole in the harness was barely large enough to slide one of the phalluses through. The wide base of the carved antler would prevent it from sliding clear through. They had named the devices “Mikies” since I had tried to carve them to resemble the original as much as possible.

After filling the pussy of my loving wife Margaret full of cum, I was torn between watching several of the other wives licking and sucking the cum from her pussy, and watching Gisela atop Isabella, fucking her with a Mikie as if she were a man. I was riveted to the action, watching her sexy ass rise and fall as she plunged the Mikie in and out of her co-wife until Isabella came.

When she did, Grace crawled behind Gisela with a second Mikie and took her from behind. Isabella and Gisela both orgasmed from the pounding Grace gave Gisela, a pounding forcing Gisela to thrust into Isabella each time.

I have always enjoyed watching my wives having sex with each other--the kisses, the touches, the licks and nibbles, the finger penetration, or rubbing their pussies together. Watching them when they started using Mikie had been even more exciting. It was even more exciting watching one of them being fucked by a carved replica of my cock attached to another of my wives.

Quickly, the third and fourth phalluses were attached to harnesses and four of my wives were fucking another four. I had Abby get on her knees--more for my comfort than Abby’s, and I watched the others while I took her gently from behind.

Gemma was the final recipient of a load of cum. I was still interested enough to keep going, but my chest hurt enough that I had to stop.

I thought my cock would explode when four of the girls held Rachel down while Anne fucked her silly. I could tell by the wild look in their eyes that both girls were enjoying their position immensely. Both girls came so hard they had to lie there for quite a while afterward, panting, while they cuddled with each other.

Gisela had taken up sucking my cock while I watched, but turned the job over to Gemma. Straddling Margaret’s hips, Gisela lowered herself onto the Mikie Margaret was wearing. Once she was fully impaled, Rachel got behind her and slowly fed the Mikie she wore into Gisela’s rear opening. Claire and Dorothy each took a position beside her and each grabbed the closest nipple, squeezing it almost painfully as they stretched it and shook Gisela’s breasts as hard as they could. I spewed my biggest load of the night into Gemma’s sexy mouth when Margaret and Rachel began alternating their thrusts into Gisela. Gisela came quickly and collapsed, chest heaving, on top of Margaret who cradled her lovingly until she recovered.

“We missed you, but we made do,” Margaret giggled while she was holding Gisela. I could see now why they had wanted me to whittle a somewhat smaller Mikie. It would be for the smaller girls who were unable to take me comfortably anally. I had started on another full-sized one, carving it from a set of antlers I confiscated in La Coruna. I guess I could use the second antler to make the smaller one for them. I thought first about using a narrower part of the antler above where I made the cut for the one I was working on, but they needed the wide portion at the base to hold it in place.

Claire got an erotic ride in the morning. Claire rode the Mikie Margaret wore while I stuffed my cock into her pussy from behind. Claire buried her face in one of Margaret’s abundant breasts and groaned when the tip of my cock entered into her already-filled pussy. “Keep going ... slowly,” Gemma encouraged as her fingers toyed with Claire’s clit. Abby and Anne each played with one of Claire’s breasts while nibbling on their side of her neck. She came quickly, and hard, crying out into Margaret’s breast as her pussy spasmed, massaging my cock with the contractions until I exploded, spraying her insides with my hot cum.

Gisela and Anna lovingly tended my cock and balls with their tongues while the others shared the creamy prize I left inside Claire. The sight of so many of my wives with their faces covered in Claire’s girl-goo and my cum ensured that I was ready for Dorothy.

Dorothy insisted on a more sedate double penetration. While Gemma slid the Mikie she wore into her backside I slid into her pussy and fucked her gently. Other wives tended her clit and breasts until she exploded in bliss.

After my messengers left for Lancaster and York, Lt. Bayard entered, bowing as he approached, wondering why the King was in the gallery while I was holding court. I had wondered the same thing before the King explained that he was interested in watching me work to see how I managed so quickly to transform a foreign population into productive, loyal English citizens.

“Good morning Lieutenant. I believe I might owe you a great deal of thanks for your handiwork yesterday. Should I assume that you had a hand in filling out the Honor Guard greeting the King yesterday, and also in preparing the excellent dinner last night?”

“The Honor Guard was a simple matter,” he chuckled noting the King’s look of surprise. “The majority of citizens of Rouen now prefer you to the previous Duke and they wanted to make sure you made a favorable impression on the King during his visit. Dinner was a little trickier, but four of the local Bishops were persuaded to donate a sizeable portion of their own dinner hoping to make a favorable impression on you--especially knowing you would probably be choosing a new Archbishop soon.”

Even the King laughed, understanding all too well the political machinations that went on in private. “I know I promised that you would be a member of the castle guard, but I have a proposal for you. Would you consider taking the position of mayor instead? You seen to be doing a lot of the job already and you would have an even better knowledge of what’s going on locally. You will still have access to talk to me any time you need and are still allowed to communicate with King Philip if you feel I have broken any of my promises. Besides, it would mean a much larger salary, as well as a larger house and a lot more status for your family.”

He thought for several moments before accepting the position.

“I guess then congratulations are in order Mayor Bayard. As your first official duty I would like to hear any insight you might have into the Bishops who remain in town and whom you feel would make the better Archbishop.”

“Bishop Languet was favored by the previous archbishop and was originally next in line to assume the position, but Bishop Clairvaux seems to be the most popular among the residents of the city. Both made a generous donation to your dinner last night,” he chuckled.

“Then let us start with Bishop Clairvaux and see if he is amenable to the changes and conditions I will require,” I commented to the guards at the door. One of them ducked out and quickly returned.

“His Excellency Bishop Clairvaux of Rouen,” the guard announced when they returned. The startled Bishop genuflected to the King who acknowledged the act before pointing him in my direction. “How may I be of service to my Duke?” he asked as he rose.