CABALLERO DEL NORTE - Sex Stories

CABALLERO DEL NORTE

... He was only the second generation in his family to be of the knightly class and like most Leonese the elevation had been earned in blood and battle. In fact, that was almost universal in all the kingdoms of Christian Hispania: Galicia and Leon (recently united), Castile, Portugal, Navarre, and Aragon. His armor was meticulously laid out in the corner of his large campaign tent, and his weapons likewise. He had let his manservant tend to the after-battle maintenance of his armor, but he had tended to his weapons himself. He always did. Now, though, the tasks that discipline demanded complete, it was time to ease himself of the day's tensions and enjoy the fruits of the spoils.

The sun going down, the tent was lit by two oil lamps, throwing a flickering yellow light and soft shadows over everything. In addition to his weapons and armor, the tent contained a large chest, a cot, and a small folding table with a chair in front of it. These were all scrunched on one side of the tent now, to make room for the greater portion of the spoils he had been able to claim. Most notably, this included some suits of chainmail armor, several swords, an ironbound chest containing a great deal of silver and gold dinars, and a thick pile of silks and carpets upon which now sat the slave-girl he had claimed for himself. Vistruario crossed his arms as he contemplated her.

He had been rather surprised Iago hadn't taken her; she was entrancing, even in comparison to the others, and Iago had ...

... always had an eye for women of dark hair and eyes. And she was that, her shining, dark, curling tresses falling in ringlets just below her shoulders, her eyes, now downcast, a dark brown made even darker by long thick lashes. Her skin was olive, and her features likely marked her as an Anatolian Greek. When Iago had deferred taking any of the concubines from the now-dead lord, Vistruario hadn't hesitated to take up his claim.

"Do you speak Leonese, girl?"

She glanced up at him from under her lashes, but blankly, and made no reply. Not going to be that easy. His Mozarabic was poor, but he figured it was his best chance. "Understand you this tongue?"

"Oh! Yes, sidi. I understand." With that barrier broken, she permitted herself quick looks at him, undoubtedly making her own evaluations. Vistruario vaguely wondered what they were, but it didn't worry him overmuch. He knew where he stood.

"Good, good. A common tongue at least will we have." So to speak, he added in his head. Already he was intently formulating how this evening was going to go. "What name are you?"

She looked a little surprised at the question. "Irene. Irene Makropoulitzous." So Anatolian Greek. Or maybe Cypriot.

"Pretty name. Beautiful girl."

"Thank you, sidi."

"Is nothing. Truth I speak. You are follow of Mohammed?"

She thought for a moment, then caught his meaning. "NO, sidi, I remain Christian."

"How long have you..." he waved his hand vaguely at her, "in this place?" His eyes raked ...