The Peasant and the Crescent

From the Chronicles of Saint Aston

Twas the Year Seven-Seventeen of our Lord when we lost the great city of Constantine in the East to the army of Maslimas Adalmalus. The treacherous Cain Terbelis broke faith with Leo the Syrian, and let the Saracens have Christendom's greatest jewel for a tawdry bribe of trinkets and baubles. The paynim foe swarmed over the mountains of Haemus, pressing forward until the Kingdom of the Langobards, where they where stopped only by the Grace of God. But no longer did the Greeks have a kingdom, and they were made as slaves unto the Mohammedans.

To the West, another host of the Enemy led by Taric Abuzarra had crossed the Pillars of Hercules, and ran through the lands of Spain like a swarm of locusts. Valiant King Roderick was slain at Guadaletus by a force no less than two hundred thousands strong. In the span of twenty years the Kingdom of the Visigoths were no more. The invasion halted as the Amiers of the Saracens divided the spoils of war, but was made as new when Abderame swept like a scourge through Aquitaine, in the Kingdom of Francia. In the Year Seven Hundred Thirty-Two of our Lord, Charles the Unlucky, son of Pepin, was slayn at Tours.

The Saracens, united by Baphomet, overwhelmed the divided Kingdoms of the Franks, extinguishing both the sons of Merovech and the Caroling pretenders, and holding sway over all new lands from the Pyrene mountains to the River Rhine, save for fair Brittany in the west. The Holy City of Rome was captured in Seven Hundred Fifty-Four, the Cathedral of Saint Peter now an idol house for the worship of Apollo, Lucifer, Termagant and Mahound.

It is to no surprise that the invaders took much delight in humiliating Christian women. After many centuries, many of their prominent men are now blue of eye and fair of beard.

But, just as the Lord taketh away, he also giveth. Priests and monks streamed forth, seeking refuge in England's shores, and the Seat of Christ is in London now, where Pope Boniface III dwells. Many have become Englishmen. Our lords now sit in the castles of Neustria across the channel, won by cold steel and faith in the First Crusade.

In Saxony, heretic met heathen, yet the Sword of Mohammedus could reach no farther, so the Caliphus sent scribes and learned men to the lands of savages, and brought them under their book. It is thereafter that the foul Northmen sailed across the North Whale-road and sacked the holy-island of Lindisfarne to great rapine and slaughter. How the paynims made the Northmen give up their love of swine and mead is unclear, but heathens are known for their lust of gold and sin. Every Tenth-Year the Dane comes and steals our women; some for himself, and others to sell to the Saracen, for such is the reign of Satan.

I write in haste, for it appears the Northmen have plans to attack Suthfolk. I will resume writing this history in Cantabridge

Addendum: Brother Aston never made it to Cantabridge, and was canonized by the Church in the Year Twelve-Fifty-Four of our Lord. His head shouted at the heathens long after it was cut from his body, and he is now known as Saint Homobonus the Vexed.

--X--

Ludham Village, Nottinghamshire

Svmer is icumen in

Lhude sing cuccu

Groweþ sed

and bloweþ med

and springþ þe wde nu

Sing cuccu

There were fifty men, women, and children in the village of Ludham, and all were gathered today on the same farm, to witness the marriage of Alfred, a rich churl, and Elfgifu, his beautiful bride. It was the Sun's day, and she sat atop her throne in the clear blue sky.

Elfgifu wore a lovely woad-blue dress and veil, and a gay garland culled from yonder grove rested upon her brow. Alfred also wore a band of blue at the hem of his sleeves, to show he was as pure and chaste as his virgin bride.

All of Alfred's and Elfgifu's family and friends were there and dressed in the same clothes as per the old Saxon manner, to confuse and ward off evil spirits jealous of the couple's merriness. Now that England was a Christian realm, this custom was done more out of solidarity than to fool wicked sprites. Only an anosmic spirit could be so easily tricked: the bride and groom were the only people to have bathed the night before.

A priest was hired from St. Mary's in Nottingham to officiate the ceremony and register the marriage for the Church. He had traveled a fair distance to get here, but he was always happy to celebrate the union of a man and woman.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony; an honourable estate, instituted of God in Paradise, and into which holy these two persons present come now to be joined."

Old Gertrude sighed, watching her daughter's flaxen hair and floral wreath glow in the light of the sun. Her husband Athelstan was equally proud of his daughter, and to hand her over to Alfred. Alfred's weighty handgeld may have also swayed him.

"Therefore if any man can shew any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, by God's Law, or the Laws of the Realm; let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace."

All those attending simply smiled in silence; Elfgifu was a chaste and lovely woman, and Alfred a faithful and hard-working man. Both were well-liked in the community. Even jealous Wilfrid could see this was a match ordained by heaven.

The priest turned to the couple, who were now staring at each other lovingly, waiting with bated breath.

"Alfred, wilt thou have this Woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"

"I will."

"Elfgifu, wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"

"I will."

The priest then led the pair a short walk to the altar for the final stages of the ceremony.

The first was a Saxon custom, the exchanging of swords. Alfred's father gave him the family ancestral sword, chipped but illustrious, with a proud horse's head on the handle. Alfred took it and gave it to his betrothed, who handed it to her parents, who would pass it down to their eldest son. In turn, they handed her a newly made sword, paid for at their expense. It was a humbler item, with a plain round pommel and Celtic patterns engraved on the hilt. She handed it to Alfred, who gave it to his family.

The rest of the ceremony was more familiar to non-English Christians. The priest took each partner by their right hand, then connected them.

"I, Alfred, take thee Elfgifu to be my wedded wyf, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us depart."

"I, Elfgifu, take thee Alfred to be my wedded husbonde, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us depart."

"Bless these Rings, O merciful Lord, that those who wear them, that give and receive them, may be ever faithful to one another, remain in your peace, and live and grow old together in your love, and seeing their children's children. Amen."

The couple exchanged rings and vows, then the whole congregation knelt down and prayed. The minister pronounced a long blessing.

"...that ye may so live together in this life, that in the world to come ye may have life everlasting. Amen."

He turned the couple to the crowd, whereupon they kissed and left the altar. A chorus of cheers erupted from young voices and old, and a raucous applause broke out, followed by songs, praises, toasts to God and the merry couple, dancing, drinking and eating.

Everyone stuffed their mouths with handfuls ripped out of the big honeycake on the center table and gulped down delicious, foamy mead until everyone was buzzed. Some were already stumbling on their legs; they would have to be kept away from the procession.

The village's strongest and youngest men, all Alfred's friends except Wilfred, hoisted the pair onto their shoulders and carried them over to Alfred's house, as everyone stripped off bits and pieces of Elfgifu's garments (anything attached to the bride was considered lucky). Their closest friends led them inside to the 'nuptial chamber', the living room, and planted the pair onto Alfred's humble quilt and straw bed.

Alfred hastened to remove Elfgifu's wedding garter, the symbol of her virginity, all the while keeping his drunk friends' hands away. They all walked out of his house and shut the door, roaring encouragement as the two undressed each other in private.

Then the gang burst back in, this time walking backwards and making a gesture to avert their eyes, tossing socks over their shoulders, trying to be the first to land one on either of their noses. The naked Alfred and Elfgifu tossed back the missed socks until Oscar's finally landed on her nose. He ran out of the house, cheering that he'd be the next to marry. The odd-faced fellow really needed the luck.

The rest of the village ran by the door, delivering a happy goodbye. The married couple waved back, covering their genitals as they sat in bed, waiting for everyone to take the celebration elsewhere. Finally, Alfred's parents kindly shut the door and dragged the wooden board behind the one window in his house, and left. The house was dark save a few cracks of light.

"Now, thou art mine, wife."

"And thou mine, Alfred."

"Thou truly art a gift from the Elves. I won't be sad to hand thee my morning-gift tomorrow, however large a sum it is."

"And I hope thou livest a long and healthy life, so that I may never need to use it, mine generous husband."

Alfred stared down at the beautiful creature underneath him. He had pined for her ever since they were young, and prayed to God every night that his farm would flourish so that he may marry her and support her with wealth. They were only four years apart in age, and he had many years left in his strong body to work. Hopefully they'll have three or four towheaded children running around in his hovel soon, to split his sizeable inheritance to.

He planted a kiss on her graceful swan neck, underneath her delicate chin, followed by many more. Elfgifu lay patiently on her back, letting her lord and master appreciate what was finally, rightfully his. The trail of kisses crawled down her stomach, lingering on her tiny navel, before resuming down. She blushed as he approached her golden-brown veil of modesty. Will he?

Oh! He did! She hoped it wasn't a sin to kiss the man in the boat, she did enjoy it so.

Alfred bade her sit up so that he could finger her long, flowing hair. Every time he saw her, it was covered by a white veil. Now it was his, and he was probably the only man to see it in its full glory. Between this, her bosom and her bare buttocks, there was much treasure on Elfgifu for him to enjoy alone. He wanted to selfishly hoard every inch of her uncovered body.

Elfgifu was amused that her husband seemed only to want to play with her hair like a child. He was struggling to braid some of it with his coarse hands, so she took it from him and neatly braided it into a pigtail, before doing the other. Now they hung over her breasts like two long pieces of golden rope. He took the free ends of each and brushed them across his face, enjoying the tickling sensation.

She laughed. Who knew such a hard-working, respectable tiller of the earth could be so innocent? She almost had to remind him that he had a man's job to do. A man's job that needed a man's knob.

She took his hands and planted them on her proud breasts, letting him feel and enjoy them. No barren tree was she: these were fine fruit hanging from her trunk, and he needed to experience their tender suppleness before she had to feed his children with them.

Alfred's eyes lit up like he just saw Solomon's gold. Could such perfection really be within arm's reach? He might soon become a poor man, having neglected his fields and livestock to bed his new wife every day. Of course, he would have to so when his parents weren't in the house. The bed the two shared would quickly be filled with his coughing mother and father, which was not an exciting thought.

Elfgifu stared into Alfred's blue eyes with her green ones. Which color would their children's be? She hoped to find out soon.Oh no, she thought,he's getting moody. Perhaps he found her breasts strange?

Alfred closed his eyes and suckled hard on her teat, making a thoughtful expression. "Patience, mine lord, there will be milk yet."

"Save thine milk for the babes, dear wife. I only wished to taste thine honeycakes whilst they were their most sweet."

"Oh? So I shall turn sour, then?" She jested. Alfred frowned.

"Mine tongue was daft. Blame the mead," he said before suckling her other teat.

Elfgifu was getting excited and impatient. She spread her legs wide open like a shameless harlot, presenting another pair of lips that needed kissing.

And soon! Her wedding garter was off, so there was no need to still be chaste. Must all men taste first what they can devour?

More kisses on the neck and cheek. She hoped Alfred was only playing a game with her. Her bridesmaids did more last night just by bathing her! A fire raged between her legs, and Alfred was content to merely stoke the bellows.

"No more playing, husbonde. We must get to making new Alfreds and Elfgifus."

"As I labored in mine fields, so too must I labor in mine bed."

Elfgifu shot him a perplexed look until he added, "But 'tis a labor I relish."

The smile returned to her face and he took his root and parted her with it.

"Ohh!" She cried as he pierced her maidenhead. Her head jerked back as her mouth hung open, her entire face contorted in pain.Perhaps this is why he was being so gentle earlier, she thought. He quickly pulled out at the sight of her agony.

Alfred guiltily stroked and caressed her face, as if comforting a girl who scraped her knee. She blinked her eyes open, seeing the concern in his eyes. She forced herself into a tender smile and brought her arms over his back.

"The pain is gone now," she lied, hoping he would continue. He started over from the top, kissing her lips and caressing her sides. She appreciated the tenderness more this time.

"Ready?"

"Yes," she spoke softly. His re-entry brought with it more pleasure than pain. She realized it felt much better when she was wet. Did Alfred know that? And if so, how?

"Alfred, am I thine first maiden?"

"Of course, woman! Who else could I have lain with?" He asked in mild indignation. Despite his gentle nature, Alfred was a big man, and she was distressed at seeing him angry.

"Don't be sore, my lord. I hath only meant that thou art so skilled in lovemaking." Elfgifu made an innocent face, softening his gaze.

"Apologies. I did not grasp your meaning," he responded with more kissing. Confident, he began to quicken his thrusts.

"Oh, faster!" she squealed in delight. So this was a woman's ecstasy.

Verbal commands were no longer necessary for the English beast. Pleasure and instinct drove him alone to plow her fertile womb and sow his seed.

FLPFRT

"'Twasn't what thou thinkst!" She cried, embarrassed. He stared at the source of the noise in curiosity, trying to reproduce the noise.

Flrrt! Flpft! Frrrrpt!

Alfred laughed jovially. "Verily, seems thine cavern has not the room for air!"

Alfred laughed again, before grabbing her hips and plunging himself deeper. Elfgifu made a squealing noise as the pleasure overtook her. She could see the faint outline of Alfred underneath her firm stomach when he entered her. She sorely hoped that Yesu didn't judge her for enjoying sex this much.

"O mine princess, it's time!"

"Let it all out!"

Alfred let out an oath as he came, eyes rolling in the back of his head. His voice boomed in the walls of his small hovel as the floodgates opened.

"There, there," she cooed, patting his rib cage as she drained the rest into her muscled walls. A thin patina of sweat coated both of their writhing masses.

Alfred collapsed on his small wife and the two lay in bed for a summertime nap.

When he woke up, he found himself so endeared to her that he insisted she rest some more while he bolted from his door to gather his animals.

"Did you hear, sheep? I'm a married man!"

Elfgifu watched the lively shape of her husband in the distance, dancing with his animals in a lively peasant jig. His little dog was the only one to join in, howling in excitement as the rest walked away, waiting for his madness to leave him.

She turned from the window to the jars of mead their gracious neighbors had given them as wedding gifts. There was enough to have a whole month of honey-wine, a 'honeymoon' as they called it. She sipped a mug of the frothy sweet drink and stepped outside to till the small garden of vegetables. The two caught up and had another round of intense love-making before her in-laws moved back into the house.

Alfred's mother's nose wrinkled in mild discomfort. Her son and her new daughter made quite a stench! Luckily it was overpowered by the smell of pigs and sheep, for Anglo-Saxon farmers slept in the same house as their creatures.

Night fell upon the English countryside as it had any other night. The black sky was spotted with thousands of stars, a window into the cosmos. The full moon illuminated the ground below in a pale silver light, and the cries of wolves echoed from the forest fence.

Drunk with love and mead, Alfred and Elfgifu fell into a deep sleep twixt each others' arms.

--(oo)--

Fire! Smoke! A woman's piercing shriek in the distance.

Alfred leapt from his bed, startling his family awake. His animals were braying and squealing. He looked outside the window into the blackness, or what should have been blackness. Ludham was on fire! How could this be?

Tall, shadowy figures leapt through the fields in the distance. Northmen!

In terror, Alfred reached for Elfgifu's family sword, and snatched it from its resting place on the mantle. As quickly as he could, he tied on his helmet and tested his sword's weight. It would take too long to put on his leather armor, so he'd only have his woolens to protect his body.

They would have to flee, but to where? If it were only a small raid, then they could run to the outlying village, but if it were a full-scale invasion, only the burh of Nottingham could afford any protection, and even then it would be a hard fight.

Alfred slapped himself on the head mentally. How would he deliver his wife and aged parents any safe distance without a horse? It was a fair distance to Elfgifu's parents as well; there was no time to link up with his new brothers Swithun and Leofric, so he prayed to the Lord they could hold their own and bring their family to safety.

His father grabbed his own axe, helmet and shield. Alfred felt a moment of pride, as the men of his line were already prepared to defend their kin.

Suddenly the door burst open, causing Elfgifu to shriek out a blood-curdling scream. A tall, bearded Northman ducked his head under the doorframe and intruded on their home. Another one followed behind him, dropping his stolen booty to grip his two-handed Danish axe.

Alfred's blood chilled. He had his back against a wall, and there was no escape for any of his family. He knew Elfgifu would be taken first: even in the dark, she made a fair prize for any Scandinavian with rapine in his mind.