The Gift: He came, he saw…

06Oct10

“This man has already defeated the Gauls and now he molests our very shores.” Camlan said in exasperation. “We must unite against him before it is too late.”

“Don’t bleat to me like an old woman Camlan, you fight if you want to, what has it to do with my tribe.” Beryl sneered.

Since her husband death, she was the voice of her tribe, until her son was of age, but she was barely 25 summers herself so that would not be for several years yet.

“You think that the Romans will stop their conquest at the Cantii lands?” He continued.

“Are you afraid of the Romans” Beryl mocked.

“Must I return to my king and tell him that you will do nothing?” Camlan sighed.

“You can tell him what you like, I will do nothing at Segovax’s behest.” Beryl spat.

Camlan saluted bitterly and swept out of the hall.

“What that woman needs is some kind of incentive.” Storm, Camlan’s captain suggested.

“I know what that woman needs.” Camlan muttered darkly.

After they had gone, Beryl spread out on her furs and grinned. She toyed with the bracelet on her wrist. Real Persian gold, she remembered he had said.

She almost thought more fondly upon him, than she did the gold he offered. She would see him soon, she thought, allowing her thighs to rub sensuously together.

“You are thinking of the Roman again.” The witch cackled.

Beryl’s nose crinkled up as she regarded the hated witch. She had been her husband’s adviser and his father’s before him, she dared not openly cross her.

“Is there nothing you do not know crone?” Beryl said with open disgust.

“Many things lady, but nothing important.” The witch cackled again. “Why do you betray your people for a little gold?”

“I betray no one. The Romans will win and we must be on the winning side. Besides it is not a little gold.”

“There is more treasure in this land than ever the Romans could offer us. Think on that my lady.”

“You always say that, but where is this treasure?”

“Perhaps I will tell you. One day.”

*

Camlan was kept waiting to make his report to Segovax. The hall of the Cantii was in uproar and Camlan noticed that all the warriors, except the outer guard had hastily found other tasks away from the hall to occupy them.

“I wouldn’t go in there my lord, our liege is fit to be tied.” One of them said as he hastened away.

Camlan had been about to ask what was amiss when he heard Segovax’s raging.

“Which one of you foolish women left my sword out in the rain?” he bellowed.

Camlan felt relieved, it was a domestic affair and not some new development with the Romans. He hovered at the door to the inner more private chamber, although the hall was rarely really all that private. Should he enter or wait?

“Camlan? Is that you? Come in.” Segovax called.

“Yes my lord I have disappointing news.”

Camlan entered to face his king. Segovax was sitting on his throne, which stood in the middle of a large animal hide that was spread out like an Eastern potentate’s carpet on the floor. The hide was orange with brownish black spots; a present from an Egyptian trader and Camlan had no idea what animal it was from. He rather suspected that neither did Segovax.

Around the king kneeling on the skin, were his wife, concubines and some of his adult daughters. Segovax was clearly angry.

“These foolish creatures have been arguing about who does what in my house. While they squabbled my best sword got left out in the rain.” He said with a forced chuckle as if pretending that it did not really matter.

The queen, Segovax third wife, knelt with due humility but nevertheless with great dignity. But then Merle was of royal birth and well used to Segovax’s rages. The concubines and his daughters all cowered and eyed Camlan nervously.

“I am to blame husband, I will accept the punishment.” Merle said, blushing a little to have to speak so before Camlan.

“Indeed you are in as much as you are the keeper of this house, but I know you are not the principal here. I will deal with you later.” He spoke fondly and Camlan could see gratitude touch her face at the news that she was not to be punished in front of anyone else.

“You girl. Come here.” Segovax growled pulling the nearest of the others to him. Then to Camlan he said, “well what news?”

Camlan struggled to remember as he watched the red haired concubine being taken over the king’s knee as her bottom was bared.

“Lady Beryl…” He began.

The king didn’t wait and his hand slapped down hard on the girl’s bottom. She yelped. Camlan watched as a huge welt of a handprint emerged on her pale flesh.

“Well.” The king said impatiently. “What of Lady Beryl?”

As Camlan related Beryl’s words, the king spanked his concubine hard so that after a few moments, her bare bottom was very red and the girl was in a flood of tears.

“What that foolish girl needs is a man.” Segovax growled as he let the redhead tumble to the floor sobbing.

“She would greatly benefit from your instruction my lord.” Camlan chuckled.

Segovax crooked his finger at his eldest daughter, a delicate creature not above 20 summers. She glanced between the concubine and Camlan and blanched.

“Come on my pretty you have it coming and you know it.” Segovax spoke kindly.

“I apologise for failing you father, I deserve to be very soundly spanked as you say. But must it be in front of Lord Camlan?” She asked as Camlan watched her turn the colour of a summer rose. He had delivered Beryl’s answer and no longer had a reason to be there. Still he could not leave until dismissed.

The princess was hauled over Segovax’s knee with a squeak and her bottom was quickly bared. The spanking was hard and fast and she reminded Camlan of a baby as she squawked with her angry face and balled up fists.

“Will you stay until I spanked them all?” Segovax smiled seeing how Camlan’s eye had fallen upon his daughter’s comely but by now very red bottom.

“I…” Camlan began, not knowing if his liege was jesting.

The king jerked his head towards the door, his expression turning hard. Camlan bowed quickly and left.

Outside many of the townsfolk had gathered to listen to the sound of spanking coming from within the hall. There was much laughter as the princess’s spanking ended and the next girl took her place.

*

Two days later Beryl rode out to meet her lover, the Roman spy. She made good time and within an hour, she was deep within the woods near the glade. He was waiting.

“Quintus.” She breathed. Her heart fluttered like young maiden’s as she saw him. “Have you brought me a present?”

“Of course.” He smiled and took her hands as she dismounted.

They kissed passionately but her eyes were quickly drawn to the chest. Her face was full of greed and for once, she desired the contents even more than she desired him.

“For me?” She simpered.

He shrugged.

“Maybe.” He said opening it.

It was filled to the brim with gold, which drew a gasp from Beryl’s throat.

“I want a bath, a proper Roman bath. And a chariot draped in gems.” She gushed.

“You can deliver your people to my lord?” Quintus asked closing the chest. “If so, then this will be yours after the general has his victory.”

“Tell Caesar that I cannot promise many will stand with him, he must prove himself first, but none of my men will stand against him.” Her eyes did not leave the chest as she spoke.

“That’s my girl.” He said seductively, kissing her again.

After she rode away, more reluctant to leave the chest than Quintus, another cloaked figure came out of the undergrowth leading some horses.

“A tasty piece of Celtic arse brother.”

“Well it’s the only chance a humble centurion like myself gets to consort with real nobility. Even if she is a barbarian.” Quintus sniggered.

“Will the whore get her money?”

“Oh Cesar will pay right enough, he needs allies, but she may find herself a concubine in Rome while a tame nobleman rules in her son’s name. That is to say Cesar’s.”

Both soldiers laughed.

*

“The Romans have landed my lady, Segovax has called for aid.” The warrior reported.

He was sweating and was covered in mud. Just her type she thought, if she didn’t have her nice clean Roman.

“Do nothing.” She said idly.

The warrior looked as if he might argue, but instead he saluted and marched out.

“My lady, since you do not intend to go to war, perhaps I can offer you a gift.” The witch suggested casually.

“A gift?”

“Yes my lady. Not far from here, they say there is a cauldron of treasure. Buried against the ages awaiting someone deserving.” The witch sang the words as if reciting a legend.

Her words were seductive and for Beryl, they seemed to cast a spell.

“Am I not deserving?” Beryl asked sensing a deception.

“Oh my lady indeed you are. If anyone can find this treasure then you can.”

“Take me there.” Beryl commanded.

“As you wish.” The witch bowed.

*

It took until nightfall before they reached the bank of the river opposite the island. Beryl was afraid; they had crossed further down and were now into the neighbouring territory.

“Do not be afraid, if you truly deserve the treasure then you will obtain it and bear it safely home. That is my gift to you.”

Beryl distrusted the words, the sounded as if something was being hidden in plain sight. But her curiosity and greed was too great. She turned to one of the warriors in her honour guard and was about to order him to ford the river to the island when the witch spoke again.

“Only you can open the cauldron to retrieve the treasure.”

Beryl licked her lips in anticipation then she nodded decisively.

“Turn your backs.” She barked to the warriors.

They dismounted and did as they were bid. Beryl followed suit and then slipped off her gown and jewels until she stood naked on the bank. Her red hair cascaded down her the white skin of her back, almost to the smooth spheres of her perfect bottom. She was cruel to deprive the men of such a sight, the witch thought, but then again maybe she was wise for what man could resist her.

Beryl took one last look around her, even in the half-light, the red triangle at her lower belly stood out starkly. None would ever suspect that she had birthed a son. Then she slipped into the water.

“Remember my lady, you must bring all that the cauldron contains, even if it does not appear to be of worth.” The witch called after her.

The current was strong and for a moment, Beryl wondered if this was the trap, had she been brought here only to drown? Then she gained the bank of the muddy tree studded islet.

The witch smiled as one of the warrior stole a glance of Beryl’s naked buttocks as she stepped from the water.

“How am I supposed to find anything in the dark.” Beryl snapped ungratefully.

“Keep looking my lady, you will find it, if it means to be found.” The witch called out.

It did not take long.

“I’ve found something.” Beryl called.

It was ludicrously easy, Beryl thought. There only half hidden in a tree stump was a huge bronze cauldron. The lid came away easily and inside something gleamed.

“There is too much for me to carry.” Beryl said excitedly.

“What have you found my lady?” The witch shouted over.

“A golden torque, a gold bowl, some cups, gems, combs and what’s this? An old hairbrush.” Beryl called back. “You were right, there is much more besides.”

“Do you claim it all in your name?” The witch asked.

“Yes, yes of course.” Beryl said enthusiastically.

“Very well I will send the men to help you.”

The warriors waded into the river and struggled to the far bank. Beryl was far too excited to remember her nudity and watched as the men bundled everything into food sacks. Then she slipped into the water and made the bank to dress well ahead of the warriors.

As the last warrior hefted his sack, he glanced back at the now empty cauldron only to see that where it had stood was only an old tree stump.

“Magic.” He whispered in awe, but not surprise.

*

Once back at her hall Beryl was not as impressed with the treasure as she might have been. The gold was clearly old, but there was not nearly so much of it as she had hoped. Also, there were some items that appeared to have very little value at all. The hairbrush looked decidedly out of place. At least the combs appeared to be made of ivory and have silver trimming, the hairbrush was only made of simple wood.

She was about to discard it when she noticed the pattern engraved into the wood, it was so intricate that at first she had taken it for the grain.

“This is so fine.” She murmured, turning the brush in her hands.

“My lady there is an envoy from Segovax outside.” Said a warrior from the doorway.

“Send him in.” Beryl said absently all her attention taken by the brush.

Camlan entered with a face like thunder and strode across the hall to the litter that Beryl used as a throne.

“My lady we are sorely pressed by the Roman’s, please, you must send all the warriors you can spare.” Camlan sounded stressed.

“I have given you my decision…” As she spoke a strange feeling came over her, she looked at Camlan in a new light.

She found that she was blushing and began to feel uncomfortable as she thought of her secret arrangement with the Romans.

Camlan looked at her with a mix of expectation and dying hope.

“You look tired, has the fighting been hard.” She sounded almost concerned.

The witch slipped into the shadows, a crafty smile gracing her face as she studied her sovereign lady.

“The battle has not yet begun. My lord’s forces are shadowing this Cesar as he makes for a landing. He has many ships.” Camlan said, panting.

“Rest awhile take some mead.” Beryl offered.

“I must away with your answer this very night.” He countered.

Beryl pressed the back of the brush to her lips and appeared to consider. The more she thought about it, the more she realised what a handsome man Camlan was. Once Quintus had what he wanted he would leave. And in any case, the tribe would never accept a Roman lord. Not in direct rule. No perhaps…

“I am not ready to give you my answer, there are things I must consider. Stay the night and I will give you my answer in the morning.” Beryl said slyly.

“Lady I must have your answer now and return with it to Segovax.”

“Please my lord, it will be dark soon, stay until morning, I am sure it will be worth your while.” The witch urged.

Camlan was about to refuse when he noticed the hairbrush in Beryl’s hands. So strange, he thought. He shook himself and considered the matter in hand. The crone was right tomorrow would be soon enough.

“Very well, but I must ride at dawn with your final answer.”

“Excellent.” Beryl grinned. “Bring my best mead and some ale.”

*

The conversation between them was stilted. Even though Beryl had dismissed the witch and the warriors, she did not seem inclined to open up to him. Camlan doubted that one such as she felt constrained by the presence of one maid who knelt silently some way off. It seemed that all her attention was taken with the strange hairbrush that she held in her hands. He was about to ask what was so special about it when she finally spoke.

“Do you think we can win?” It came out as a distant whisper.

“Yes. But it may be a close run thing unless we can muster all of the southern tribes.” He said confidently.

“They are so strong and rich. They have much gold and…” Her eyes seemed to be on the brink of shedding tears.

“What do you know…?” Camlan started to ask suddenly suspicious, but his eyes fell upon her bracelet. “Where did you get that?”

She worked her jaw a little and moved to cover the jewellery. Her arm rattled with more of her ill-gotten gains as she did so.

“Where did all of that come from? Its not Welsh gold and I have seen nothing like it in any market.” He moved towards her and seized her arms.

“How dare you.” She exclaimed striking him on the shoulder with the brush.

He snatched it from her and demanded answers.

“I found a Celtic hoard…” She said indicating the torque, knowing it was not really the answer. “I…”

She remembered a spanking she got as young girl for lying and she blushed.

He glanced at the torque around her neck as she clutched at it. A king’s torque, not to be worn by a mere chieftain, he was shocked. As she saw his eyes at her throat, the torque seemed to burn her and she felt compelled to tell the truth.

“Also I accepted Roman gold.” She gaped more horrified than him at the words.

In his mind, he seized his sword and denounced her to her people. Instead, he remembered Segovax spanking his concubines and daughters and the hairbrush that he had seized from her itched in his hand.

“I ought to give you a damn good spanking you spoilt brat.” He said through his teeth, his rage constricting his words.

How dare he, she would have him killed on the spot, she swore silently, then opening her mouth to call the guards she said: “I know.”

He held her with his eyes as her mind whirled in confusion at her submissive thoughts. Then her eyes broke contact and she darted a look at her maid who looked on chewing her lip.

“Come here wench.” He snarled tipping her across his lap.

He dragged up her gown to find that she wore men’s tartan trousers, as many warrior maids did.

“You girl.” He snapped at the maid. “Come here and lower your mistress’s breeks.”

The girl was startled by this and looked at the door to consider escape.

“Don’t you dare.” Beryl wailed.

“Do it girl or you will be next.” Camlan ordered.

The maid was torn, but her fear of Camlan coupled with Beryl’s confession broke her conflict and she moved forward. She unlaced the garment at the hip and drew the legs down to mid calf. She had seen her mistress’s bare bottom many times and many times she had thought to see it spanked just as her own bottom was when she deserved it.

“What are you doing? Stop this.” Beryl gasped even as she struggled on Camlan’s lap.

“Now my lady it is for your own good I think.” The maid chuckled.

“Oh.” Beryl growled angrily. It was something Beryl had said to her maid days before when she had occasion to spank her.

The spanking was sound. Camlan had a strong sword arm, which was well used to hacking at an oak post for hours at a time in practice. Now he wielded the brush like weapon, stinging it down like an axe onto Beryl’s defenceless bare bottom.

As she struggled, she kicked at the ground in a slow rhythm, pumping her legs and clenching her teeth. She would not cry out and give him the satisfaction.

Camlan spanked on swat after swat as she hissed and grunted. Her bottom turned quickly red and then dark blue as white chaffing marks blistered on her flesh.

The maid looked on in wonder as Lady Beryl began mewling noises and began to grunt.

“Stop it.” She wailed angrily. Her tone was decidedly wet.

Camlan ignored her as he spanked all the harder. The impact of the wood on her bare bottom cracked across the hall like a winter solstice log fire.

“Oh.” She wailed again before snorting through her grimace.

“Please stop.” She sobbed finally as she broke.

Thereafter she began yelling until her guards came.

“Get out.” She wailed. “Get out.”

The warriors stood open mouthed to see their chieftain over Camlan’s knee for a spanking. If he wasn’t to die for the insult then he must be her new man they concluded so they slowly filed out in amusement.

Beryl had supposed that the spanking would end now it had been discovered, but she had no such luck. Camlan shifted the little traitoress in his lap for a more secure spanking position and spanked on.

The maid giggled as Beryl wailed in realisation and began to sob like a child. Rather like she herself had, the last time Beryl had spanked her.

After a while she began to yell again, but this time no one came and the spanking continued uninterrupted for sometime.

“Now you will go to the corner and will offer no further objections when I go and give orders for your warriors to mobilise.” He barked.

“I will not.” She sobbed.

He resumed the spanking.

“I mean the corner not the troops.” She protested in an anxious wail.

“You will concede both you brat or I will spank you before the entire tribe.”

“All right, all right.” She begged.

“This way my lady.” The maid giggled showing her to the skins she had thrown down where she normally had to kneel for corner time.

“You wait. I will switch you raw tomorrow.” Beryl hissed, but nevertheless obeyed.

“I know.” The maid said ruefully. “But it will be worth it.”

A short while later the assembled warrior’s eyes were all drawn to the corner where their bare-bottomed lady knelt sobbing. From the state of her bottom, they could tell that not one of their wives would envy her this man.

“Lady Beryl has ceded all military authority to me. Now gather your men we move at dawn.”

They all paused for a moment, but when no argument was heard from Beryl, they drank their fill of her submissive beauty and then filed out joshing each other in open amusement and excitement at the prospect of battle.

*

As history records, in 55BC Julius Cesar landed on the southern shores of Britannia, but after meeting resistance and suffering several set-backs he was forced to return to Gaul after capturing a few slaves and burning a few villages. He came, he saw, but he didn’t exactly conquer.

After Cesar had departed, Segovax gave Beryl’s lands to Camlan and her with them, her true conqueror.

Beryl was allowed to keep the gold she acquired, although she was to frequently regret the concession.

“Lady Beryl has not served you well my people.” Camlan said at his investment. “But I will forgive her and take her and her son as my own.”

There was open cheering at this. Camlan held up his hand for silence.

“My lady has much to atone for and I have decided on a fitting punishment.” Camlan waited until the cheering and laughter had died down. Although some were frowning, fearful of what may follow at this Cantii’s hands.

“My lady will you grace us with your presence.” Camlan called. It was a command not a request.

“My lord I… please my lord.” Came a tearful voice from the back of the hall behind Camlan’s throne.

“Come here now.” Camlan bellowed.

There was a collective gasp as Beryl edged shyly out of the shadows. Although she held one arm across her chest and another clutching at her thighs, everyone could see she was almost naked. Almost, that was except for her jewels, the same ones she had acquired from Quintus.

“Come here my lady. Oh look, from the golden torque we see she is a queen.”

There was angry murmuring at this, Camlan was correct, a gold torque was a mark reserved for royalty and she had no right to it.

“Please my lord, I know I have done wrong but you cannot do this, not before the court.” Beryl whimpered.

“I think I can and I will.” He roared tipping her across his lap.

The crowd broke into great gouts of laughter as he spanked her soundly with the hairbrush from the cauldron.

“I’m sorry.” She sobbed as he gave her spanking well beyond any she had yet suffered and her first in public.

“Do you not deserve this.” He whispered as he spanked her.

“Yes.” She wailed.

Most of the audience did not know her crime and never would, but it was clear that the brat of a wife of their late lamented chief had met her match and most welcomed Camlan as their new lord.

“Oh, oh, oh.” Beryl sobbed as Camlan spanked her vigorously well into the celebratory feast to celebrate Cesar’s defeat.

“Public corner time or a bed time spanking?” He whispered as he finally set her on her feet.

She settled for kneeling at her lord’s feet to nibble on at what she could, her appetite having fled. Still she was not permitted to dress. In fact, in the years to come, every year on the day of the feast, Beryl suffered the same fate until finally she begged to be allowed to distribute her treasure to the poor. All except the torque and the hairbrush, both of which mysteriously vanished along with the witch during the first year of their marriage.

A note to those with an interest in history, Segovax was a real king and was credited as one of those who saw off Julius Caesar’s abortive invasions in 55 and again in 54 BC. Although the Romans did successfully conquer southern Britain a hundred years later, the Cantii survived almost 400 years of Roman occupation and the subsequent Anglo-Saxon incursions to give their name to the later Saxon kingdom and future county of Kent, an old English corruption of Cant. Hence Canterbury. Today the Cantii are known as Kentish Men (or maids), to distinguish them from the Jute settlers from Denmark who are today known as the Men (or maids) of Kent.



3 Responses to “The Gift: He came, he saw…”

  1. 1 anushree

    dj, will you please continue with angela’s story? i loved it. and by the way this story was great specially the last punishment.

  2. 2 DJ

    Hi Anushree

    Thanks for showing such an interest. Only one other person has expressed an interest in this subject since I quietly retired the story.

    I felt that Angela had lost its way a bit and so decided to give her a rest. This was in part due to competing writing projects. However I have not ruled out adding the occasional additional episode to this saga and may write another soon.

    DJ


  1. 1 chross.blogt.ch - Chross Guide To The Spanking Internet

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