Denise, Paul, and the Barbarian

The Lamb's Neck was not normally the sort of place Paul would bring Denise, but it was in places like this that they were likely to find what they were seeking. Together the young married couple entered the foul smelling and smokey tavern, a sudden silence fell as the newcomers were appraised by the hardened imbibers and diners. Paul made very little impression at all. Tall and thin, he had the pallor of one who worked indoors for long hours and unidentifiable stains were scattered across his wrists and hands. As for Denise, every eye, male and female, made an appreciative tour of her lithe physique. Clearly a woman of status, her angelic features nicely complementing her fashionable clothing. Her sapphire blue eyes and copper-colored hair captured the lighting within the tavern in an especially arresting way.

Denise tried her best to ignore the catcalls directed at her as she gripped Paul's hand even more tightly. Paul, for his part, attempted to shield his wife as best he could with his body as he scanned the patrons of the Lamb's Neck. In one corner, seated facing the door, Paul believed that he had spied what he was seeking. The man was huge and abundantly muscular, he wore the attire and carried the broadsword of a northern barbarian. Paul also noted that the man wore his hair and beard in the style of a Purga Warrior. The barbarian and the civilized man focused upon each other. Paul could deduce no malice in the powerfully built man, only curiosity and, perhaps, boredom.

After taking a few deep breaths, Paul held tightly to his wife's hand as he steered the two of them to open seats opposite the barbarian. The north man made no obvious objection. After an uneasy silence, Paul addressed the taller and much stronger man.

"Pardon, Sir, are you a northern warrior."

"Looking like this, what ELSE would I be?"

The barbarian glanced at Paul, took an appreciative eyeful of Denise and stated curtly,

"State your business, man or quit wasting my time. People who waste my time have a habit of making me angry, believe me, you DON'T want me angry."

Paul coughed softly and, haltingly at first, but with more conviction as he continued, Paul presented his case,

"I am Paul Letters and this is my wife, Denise. I am an apothecary by trade and have just finished my apprenticeship. In the past few months, I have been corresponding with a fellow member of my trade in the city of Brant View. He is old and infirm and has agreed to sell me his business for a very fair price. The only problem of course ..."

"Is getting across the western wilds." interjected the barbarian.

"Precisely so, Sir," continued Paul. With the navy forbidding any unnecessary travel, the price for a sea route is prohibitive. Crossing the wilds is much faster than avoiding them. I am told that mounted men may cross the wilds in as little as a week. But, of course, traveling in the wilds almost demands an escort. Though I am young and strong, (the barbarian harrumphed at that) I do not have a full understanding of the dangers I and my wife may face on the journey, nor am I any match for a truly determined swordsman or robber."

"So you want to hire me for protection, lad?"

"Just so, Sir. I am prepared to remunerate you rather well."

"Good! My sword does not come cheap."

Paul made a motion towards his purse but the barbarian stayed his hand.

"I haven't said yes as yet, lad. Let us retire to my room where there are not so many prying eyes."

Understanding, the wisdom of the barbarian's words, yet still feeling leery, Paul turned to face Denise who nodded her approval. A short time later, the young couple was following the barbarian to his quarters. At the top of the stairs, the trio was accosted by a slatternly topless woman. She threw her arms about the Barbarian and said in throaty voice,

"Ready for another round, lover?"

Paul stood open mouthed and gawked at the half-naked woman. Despite her profession, she was prettier than Paul would have expected. He thought her just pretty and no more, and what minor charm she now possessed would rapidly fade from the harsh life she was leading. Denise noted that the cheap woman was just about her own age Simultaneously she felt pity for the poor woman and felt nearly nauseous at the sight of her crass and indelicate manner with the barbarian. Denise thanked the gods that she would never have to make her living in the same way as this poor soul. Not that she didn't enjoy intimacy, far from it, she firmly believed that intercourse should be a wife's desire and her desire should always be for her husband.

"Perhaps later, dove," replied the barbarian as he received her embrace and stroked her chin tenderly, "Right now, I have business to attend to." he gestured at Paul and Denise.

"I am far more talented than her," stated the prostitute, "and I didn't think you would favor boys."

"NOT that kind of business, slut. Now let us pass," stated the barbarian impatiently.

The barbarian's room was indistinguishable from any of the others in the Lamb's Neck, save this one contained his battle armor and a spare sword. There was only a single chair. The barbarian sat while indicating that Paul and Denise should sit on the bed. The rope supported mattress squeaked under their combined weight. Paul, who had not ceased to hold his wife's hand, noted that his palm was now clammy. Denise was, if anything, more nervous than himself.

"PERHAPS I COULD escort the two of you to your new lives. What sort of money are you offering?"

"As it happens, Denise's grandfather recently passed, providing quite a bit of money to us. Much of it will be used to purchase the apothecary I desire. That still leaves a substantial..."

"Let me put it this way, lad fifty gold coins and twenty-five silver ones EVERY day of the trek with an advance of twice the amount, payable now."

Paul, drew in a breath, "That IS a considerable amount, I will concede that it IS justifiable, barely, if the western wilds are as populated with brigands as reputed. By WHY must I make my decision, now?"

The barbarian leaned forward in his chair and stated, "Waste of time, kid. I'm the best swordsman you are EVER going to find in this burg, also my coffers need filling and I've a desire to roam, I've been among civilized men too long, bashing heads in the wilds is just the tonic I need."

"Who ARE you, anyway?" asked Paul, realizing that he should have made that inquiry far earlier.

"Ever hear of Walther the Wrathful?" replied the barbarian as his face brightened into a smile that was at once intimidating and disarming.

Paul swallowed hard. By luck, he had entered into contract with perhaps the most famous of all warriors. If this man could not protect himself and Denise, no other mortal being could. Paul reached into his purse and withdrew his money in the amounts specified, and placed them in the barbarian's huge palm.

"I assume that the two of your are prepared to leave immediately?" inquired the barbarian.

"Yes, Sir," replied Paul, "My wife and I have sold all but the essentials. Our wagon and horses are hitched outside."

"Splendid, we can leave after breakfast in the morning," stated Walther "Why don't you take a room here for the night? That just makes sense."

Denise stiffened at the barbarian's suggestion and Paul gasped, "If it is all the same with you, Sir, I shall take my bride to a more respectable and genteel boarding house for the evening."

The barbarian sighed and said, "Suit yourself, a bed's a bed." one of his wolfish eyes winked in Denise's direction and he continued, "and a bed is good for only two things, sleeping and ..."

As Paul and Denise flushed scarlet with indignation, the barbarian released a torrent of laughter before concluding their agreement by stating, "You two get your sleep then. If you don't mind a bit of advice, it is in your interest to obey me and follow my lead from the moment we enter the western wilds, neither of you would survive a day there by yourselves."

Across town in their pricier accommodations, Paul gave Denise a bath while the two of them discussed the barbarian.

"Are you sure we can trust him, darling?", asked Denise as Paul gently lathered her back.

"He happens to be one of the most famous and deadly warriors alive. He may be crude and crass and uncivilized but he IS a man of his honor and his word," replied Paul.

"I'm not particularly fond of the way he looked at me tonight." opined Denise.

"Sweetness, EVERY man looks at you that way. Do I not glance at you the same way often?"

Denise laughed, "Coming from you, it is neither an annoyance or a threat."

"Thank you, dear .. I think." returned Paul.

"Oh don't sulk, Paul. You know you are the only man for me, in this world or rascals and reprobates."

"I'm so glad to hear that, wonderful," said Paul as he began to lather Denise's impressive bust and smooth shoulders. Denise opened her eyes and took in her shirtless husband. Though she told herself that such trivialities should not matter, Denise could not help but wish her slim, pigeon-chested husband was built more like a barbarian.

Silently, Denise told herself, "Stop THAT! You have the finest husband in all the world, what difference do a few muscles make?"

As if reading her mind, Paul paused in his labors to ask his bride, "Do you wish I was built like that barbarian?"

Without batting an eye, Denise lied and replied with, "Heavens NO, darling! I wouldn't have you any other way!" After a pause, her face took on a devilish look and she stated throatily, "Let me prove that to you, husband. Why don't you pull the plug and help me dry off?" All the while Denise was talking, her eyes were fixed on the large bed in the corner of the room.

Denise and Paul did indeed use the room's large bed for sleeping .. after a while.

Feeling refreshed from a night of sweet dreams inspired by their dance of intimacy, Paul and Denise returned to the Lamb's Neck Tavern. Both were dressed for travel. Paul wore a great coat, boots, and a stout hat. Around his neck a bit of silk which could be drawn up over his nose and mouth when the road turned dusty. To counter the heat of the great coat, Paul wore simple cotton clothing under it. Denise wore leggings and a topcoat above a silk blouse. She too wore a bit of fabric about her neck for dust and her hat supported a veil, masking her features.

The married couple entered the tavern. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the darkened interior. When they did, they spied the barbarian at a prominent table. The strumpet from the night before sat in his lap, fully dressed this time. Paul thought her a bit prettier by daylight, Denise just rolled her eyes. The barbarian noted the presence of-of his employers and bid his whore adieu with a long lingering kiss. As she strode off, Walther slapped her shapely buttocks in a friendly manner.

They all ordered breakfast. To the mutual surprise of Paul and Denise, the food at this sin-drenched inn of debauchery was astoundingly good. A little more than an hour later, the party was on the western road. Walter the Wrathful led, Paul rode next to Denise on the wagon, keeping one hand on the reins and the other on the hilt of his scabbard. Two spare horses were on leads trailing from the wagon following.

They arrived at the border to the western wilds as dusk was falling. Mount Theis, not really a mountain, but a barren tor of rock that marked the limit of civilization. Beyond this landmark, the ground grew increasingly hazardous. Prominent hills honeycombed with caves, bad soil, and an alarming propensity for the ground to develop random large sinkholes made the land simultaneously unsuitable for farming and a perfect haven for cutthroats and criminals of all types. Still, some folks lived honest lives there, goat herders, tavern keepers, and a few other professions. Stone masons made regular forays to harvest limestone and marble. Paul also knew that some of the chemicals apothecaries like himself used in their work were found in vast quantities in the western wilds.

The trio of travelers rode past Mount Theis for about an hour before the barbarian signaled for a stop.

"The nearest tavern is at least an hour away," stated the barbarian "We must proceed cautiously, however, and remain on alert. Being on the road after dark in the western wilds is not one of my favorite forms of relaxation. I had hoped that your wagon would be a bit faster."

"I'm sorry, sir," replied Paul. "The load proved larger than I expected."

"The damage is done, lad, we must just take that into account in the morning. It would be far better if we camped for the night. I know a secret lair known only to barbarian thieves such as myself, it is a bit closer than the tavern."

"You mean sleep on the ground?" asked Denise incredulously.

"Better to rest your head on the ground than to not have a head, woman." came the barbarian's instant reply.

"He knows what he is doing, honey," stated Paul in what he hoped was a soothing voice and not an irritated one. If there was one thing he detested about his wife, it was her moneyed prissiness. She knew that she liked the finer things in life. Marrying Paul, a man outside her prescribed social circle had been an act of supreme rebellion for her. From time to time, Paul wondered if his wife saw him as anything more than a living symbol of parental rejection. Her lovemaking certainly did not seem to indicate that, but Paul had not had too many experiences prior to marriage. When he compared his own physical attributes to those of his wife, he often wondered what she saw in him. It was an insecurity that never quite left him.

In the end, Denise was outvoted. They progressed further along the road, the lantern shielded to provide minimum illumination as the darkness became total. A scudding layer of clouds hid most stars and the moon was a waxing crescent. Walther the Wrathful was navigating mostly from memory when the group of bandits struck.

They materialized out of the blackness and swarmed the wagon. Denise cried out, revealing her gender. Immediately she was pulled from her perch on the wagon. Paul lashed out with his scabbard at a large form next to him but only struck the wood of the seat where Denise had been. He felt sudden pain as something crashed down on his skull. The world spun for a moment, but he did not lose consciousness. Paul watched, even more, stunned by this vision than by the blow to the head, as Walther the Wrathful sprang into action.

The barbarian proved the merit of his exorbitant fee by quickly routing the foes of night. Denise and one of the spare horses had been carried off but the wagon and Paul had been saved. Paul was about to cry out for the barbarian to rescue Denise when he climbed to the seat of the wagon, took the reins and drove the wagon at its top speed further down the road.

"You have to rescue my wife!" screamed Paul as the wagon sped away.

"I shall," returned the barbarian, "but not at the risk of endangering you, we must also see to that cut."

For the first time, Paul noted a puncture wound on his hand, it was still bleeding heavily. He pressed it against his thigh to staunch the flow.

The wagon came to a stop off the road, before a large boulder. Paul sat slack-jawed as he spied the huge barbarian, dismount from the wagon and push against the formidable rock. Amazingly, it began to roll, revealing a void in the hillside. Walther the Wrathful led the wagon and horses into the cavern, lit some lanterns that had been stored there and sealed the cavern once more with the great stone.

In the cave, the barbarian cleaned and bandaged Paul's wound and made sure that the blow to his head had done no serious damage before he would engage in conversation.

"What is going to happen to Denise?" cried Paul.

"The western wilds has a thriving slave trade. I would imagine that would be her fate. That WOULD be her fate, however, I am not only the best warrior you can afford, I am also a first class tracker. I doubt it will take me longer than noon tomorrow to rescue her and return here."

The warrior took some time to perform an inventory and to show Paul where the stores of food and straw were as well as extra oil for the lamps.

"Rest and eat and try not to worry." stated the barbarian.

"I want to go with you!"

"You WOULD DIE!"

"What are they doing to Denise?"

"Best to not contemplate that, lad."

Once more the barbarian rolled the huge boulder and escorted out his horse. He turned and made a move to seal Paul in the thief's cave when Paul, in exasperation, asked. "But what if something happens to you?"

The barbarian met Paul's haggard expression with dark humor, "Then lad, you either manufacture the muscles to move this rock or you starve to death." The barbarian smiled wanly and finished moving the rock.

For an inexperienced tracker, the trail would have been impossible to find. Even for Walther, it was difficult. His keen eyesight and acute senses and long experience told him which way the gang had traveled from depressions in the soil, breaks in the undergrowth and the freshness of horse dung. It was near dawn when he had at last determined which of the many available caves the bandits had holed up in.

Their first mistake was leaving only one sentry. He died silently. Down one passageway, Walther noted a brightness and heard echoes of laughter. The brightness turned out to be a large chamber. Around a fire sat a dozen bandits. In the center of the chamber, stark naked save for a collar bearing a chain hammered into the living rock, stood Denise. The barbarian drew in his breath, not even in his most provocative imaginings had he thought her this beautiful. Despite the tears streaming from her eyes, she was ravishing. Freed from pins and bonnets, her copper-colored halo of hair fell nearly to her waist. Walther surveyed her lithe form. Beneath the lovely face and slender neck were firm, round shoulders and large conical breasts, each surmounted with light brown areolas and sharp pink nipples. Her chest flared inward at the waist and broadened provocatively at the hips. Beneath an enchanting navel, her copper hued feminine triangle. The thighs, like the rest of her, seemed carved from purest alabaster. Her dimpled knees were delightful as were her trim ankles and dainty, high arched feet. Walther was instantly smitten.

Forcing the vision of loveliness from his mind, Walther set about the task at hand. One throwing knife buried itself in one villain's neck as the barbarian simultaneously slit the throat of another. The laughter and mockery of the chamber became frenzied panic. Before most could get to their feet, the barbarian's sword had bisected two more brigands. Walther was starting to like the odds. Their second mistake was piling their weapons in one corner of the cave. Three died on their way to retrieve them. One got a panicked shot off with his crossbow, it skidded over the barbarian's ribs but did no real damage. The owner of the crossbow was gifted Walther's second throwing knife in his jugular.

Only four of the kidnappers remained. One threw himself prostrate before Walther, seeking mercy. After cutting off his head, Walther kicked it hard in the direction of the others. The three remaining highwaymen almost tripped over themselves as they fled in terror. One got as far as the mouth of the chamber before the barbarian's final throwing knife buried itself in his spine. Walther allowed the final two to escape, convinced that their panic would keep them out of his hair until after he and Denise had departed.

Only now did the barbarian approach Denise. At first, her eyes were fearful but then she recognized the barbarian, "You!" she screamed before leaping into his arms. If the vision of Denise Letters naked was intoxicating, her touch and smell brought madness. She was soft and white and tender in Walther's arms and her hot carmine lips sought his. The barbarian received the kiss and returned it with even more vigor. She felt so soft and natural in his arms. The kiss became a prolonged passion. The barbarian's hands toured her supple body, tweaked her enticing breasts and stroked her soft cheek. The fragrance of her hair and the perfume of her passion filled Walther's nostrils with pleasure. He lifted her in his arms and slid to the stone floor of the cave.