Page 58 of Retribution

It was the most erotic thing he’d ever experienced.

She kept up the motion, moaning softly as she did it, her fingers probing into his buttocks and finding his anus. She inserted a finger into him and he shuddered, feeling incredible pleasure and realizing that he was growing hard again so soon after his release. That had never happened to him before. But she continued to move him in and out of her, her fingers in very sensitive places, until she rolled him onto his back, straddled him, and impaled herself on him. Then, she began to slowly and erotically ride him.

Aidric was lost.

Her white, soft body was all he could see. His hands moved to her breasts, fondling her as she moved up and down on his shaft. She would move her pelvis in a circular motion, one way and then the other, a clearly skilled move as her white hair draped over her body and tickled the tops of his thighs. Then she would raise herself up on her knees, plunging down on him, again and again.

Up and down, up and down…

Their lovemaking went on the rest of the afternoon.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

He had no idea where Langford was going.

After escaping Cambridge’s suffocating presence, Everald had been in the livery yard of Thornhill Manor, in the stall where his horse was and also where his medicine was. The medicament could come in many different forms, and he had ingested it in many different forms, but this time he had received the medication in vinegar that had been mixed with cheap wine. The apothecary he got it from had dissolved the powder into a big cauldron of vinegar, wine, and apple juice, and he distributed it to anyone in need of a powerful painkiller.

Or to people who were dependent on it, like Everald was.

After ingesting the required amount, and perhaps a little more, he had been sitting on the floor of the stall, sitting amongst the soiled rushes and waiting for the euphoria to take effect, when he saw Langford moving through the livery yard at a clipped pace. The man was moving quite fast, looking around nervously as if to ensure he wasn’t being seen, before slipping through the postern gate. Everald thought the behavior strange enough that it made him curious. Or maybe it was the drug flowing through his veins that prompted him to get up from the dirty floor and follow.

Whatever the reason, he pursued.

Everald followed Langford down the broad avenue that Thornhill Manor was located on, passing the Street of the Bankers and passing through the Jewish section of London. It was a broad avenue with a lot of people and Langford seemed more interested in rushing to his destination than bothering to look behind him to see if anybody was following him at this point. He seemed very focused, something that piqued Everald’s curiosity even more. Everald knew Langford and knew the man was the flighty type, which made this behavior seem even more out of the ordinary.

As they neared Saint Paul’s, Everald began to think that he would feel pretty foolish if Langford was simply off to meet a lover. Langford was always singularly focused on the archbishop, and his service to the man, so it didn’t seem possible that he had interests that might be outside of that world. At that point, Everald simply followed because he was curious about Langford’s lover. He began to imagine that maybe it was a married woman, perhaps the wife of a prominent warlord, in which case Langford was right to behave as if he didn’t want anybody to know. About the time they hit the area around Saint Paul’s glorious cathedral, Langford took a detour toward the river.

Everald followed.

Through the streets that smelled like fish and mildew they ended up down by the river and Langford headed east along the banks. There were several cogs moored on the shoreline at this point in the day, having brought in their goods or passengers earlier, and now they sat empty, bobbing gently in the current. Langford moved swiftly past the boats, not paying them any attention, But eventually I’ll begin to get bored with chasing after the man. Perhaps he was simply going for a walk and all of the intrigue in Everald’s imagination was just that—his imagination. He thought that might very well be the case until Langford headed for one of the most notorious taverns in all of London.

The Pox.

Its real name wasn’t The Pox, but something no one really remembered anymore, because The Pox was what everyone called it. It was an infamous place for gambling, among its many unpleasant activities. Men could bet on anything there—games of chance, games of card, or create their own games. One of the most famous—or infamous—games was drinking small portions of a poisonous purge only to see how far a man could projectile vomit. That one was quite a novelty when it first came out and many a knight and even nobleman took part in that game. But, as with all novelties, it had run its course and men moved on to other games. Oddly enough, The Pox served some of the finest wine and food in all of England, so it was an excellent place to get a good meal. Perhaps that was what Langford was going for. Whatever the case, he disappeared inside and Everald found his way to the nearest window.

There were enough people in and out of The Pox that no one paid any attention to a man looking through the windows. Shockingly, The Pox actually had glass windows even though the building itself looked as if one great wind would blow it all down. Everald went from window to window, watching through the glass, until Langford came to a man sitting at a table along with another man, who had his back to the window.

Langford sat down and a conversation began.

Whatever they were discussing seemed quite serious. Langford ordered wine and a serving wench returned to deliver a pitcher and cups. Since Everald couldn’t hear what was being said, he went around to the rear of The Pox where the old rubbish was dumped. There was also an additional bread oven out here, among the trash, which was a rather odd place to put it, but space was at a premium. As Everald tried to enter from the rear, he was stopped by an armed man at the door.

“Nay, lad.” The man, big and grizzled, refused him entry. “Go around the front where we can all see you.”

By this time, Everald was soaring on the medicine he’d so recently taken. It fed his soul and his bravery, as if there wasn’t anything he couldn’t do. Digging into his purse, he pulled out a few pence and flashed them at the guard.

“I do not need to enter at all if you will tell me something,” he said.

The guard looked at the money suspiciously. “What could I tell you?”

Everald pointed inside. “In there,” he said. “My… well, my wife’s brother is in there talking to some men and I want to know who they are. He’s got an unsavory streak in him, if you know what I mean, so I am curious who the men are. I do not want to see him falling prey to men who would harm him, or even harm my family. Can you help me?”

The armed man wasn’t sure he believed him. “Why not go in yourself?”

“Because I do not want him to see me,” Everald stated, which was the truth. “He’ll see me and run weeping to my wife, who will try to beat me for spying on her brother. Please? Will you not take a look and see if you know the men?”

The armed guard sighed sharply before scooping the money out of Everald’s hand. “Which table is he at?”

Fortified, Everald pointed inside. “In the common room,” he said. “There are two big posts supporting the second floor. He is by the post nearest the door that leads to the back rooms, I think. He is wearing a black vest with white on the bottom.”