The End of Things Ch. 01: Carwen

I could hardly believe it. I had thought those walls would last forever. They stood so high above the estuary, and as a girl I remember standing there, looking out as the fishermen plied their trade, before pulling up and the quay to unload their catch. The smell made my mother's stomach turn, but I loved seeing the various fishes and their bright colours. Arthur always made sure that we had some nice fresh cod to eat. I used to love his cooking.

It seems so very long ago now. Of course it is twenty years now since I left, and I was sixteen then, so must now be accounted an old lady; at least I am one in that I am unmarried and never have been. That's not unusual in a nun, though in truth the nuns do not really regard me as one of them, though it suits Guthlac's purposes, and mine, for people to assume I am one; it makes everyone's life easier.

Gariannonum was one of what were called the "Saxon Shore" forts. The Romans built them in response to the increase in predatory raids in the third century after the birth of Our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ. I was born there. My father was a Roman soldier called Arthur (Artos in the Latin) and my mother was called Arwen. They called me Carwen, because that meant "loved" in our language, and I was very loved, despite being, in my father's words, a "little shrimp."

Where my brothers, Arthur and David were great big hulking things, even by the standards of other girls, I was tiny. But no one seemed to care. My father would take me for walks along the side of the estuary, and I would strip off and swim, sometimes right out to the fisherman, who called me their little mermaid. I loved the sea and everything to do with it.

How little one knows what is to come in life, and how sensible it is to do what the Romans recommend and carpe diem; live for the day.

Now, as I look out from the Mother House, I can see the whole estuary; the great wall has fallen away, at least at the western end. Some of it was accidental, the great rains of ten years ago created many landslips in the area, which caused the wall to fall into the river, and in other parts, the Church has reused stones to build what we have now. Are we safe now? What is safety? It is a question with no answer in these troubled times.

Artos, my revered father, explained to me that it was one of a number of such places designed to provide a network of defence against the depredations of the Saxon raiders. We could, he explained, take shelter in the fort while word went out for a cavalry division to attack the raiders. It was clear that he thought this a clever idea, but as was pointed but to me much later, even the swiftest cavalry could not outdistance a long ship. So it was.

The summer of my eighteenth year was when the troubles which beset us still first became serious. Before then we had suffered raids but they were scattered, and whenever the Saxons met resistance, they took to their ships and fled. But that year many of them came across the whole Saxon shore, and the resources of Rome were hard-pressed to be everywhere at once.

My mother was at once proud and anxious. It was that year that Arthur, my eldest brother, passed out as a legionary, and his twin, David, became chief assistant to the blacksmith. My family was a military one, my father, like his father and his father's father had all served with distinction, and legend had it that our first forbear was a Roman legionary who had married a Briton after the invasion of the great Claudius.

My father had met my mother when he was serving in the far west, she had served at one of the many inns which soldiers seemed to need, and they had bedded and wed before the birth of the twins. I was an after-thought, some ten years later and as the only girl and the smallest, was treated with a mixture of love and condescension.

The twins, as they were always known, could not quite see the point of a sister, and by the time they had reached the age where women were of interest, they had advanced in wisdom to the stage where they could not see the point of having a dwarf as one. As I once heard David say to our mother: "It's not as though she is going to find a husband, she looks like a boy." As, one by one, my friends partnered and married, I was the one left alone.

This was a cause of immense frustration. As others entered womanhood and got on with their lives, I was trapped. I could see myself still being at home helping my mother when I was an old lady of thirty. It was the advent of Berta and Merlin who changed all of that.

It was my habit, when my work was done, to walk out along the path that led from the fort to the harbour. It was just under five miles, and within half an hour of leaving the fort, one could forget it even existed. I listened to the water as it lapped on the shore, the sound of the egrets and the gulls providing a counterpoint. God was in his Heaven and all was right with the world.

I passed the thorn bush that marked the quarter way point and then sat, looking out across the bay. On the far horizon I saw a sail. I froze. If it was the Saxons then I was in grave danger. My feet refused to move. Suddenly what had been my place of refuge had become a place of danger. The question was whether I could get back in time to warn others.

I ran as fast as my feet would carry me, arriving back in the fort out of breath. My father wanted to know what was wrong, and, between spasms of breathlessness, I told him. Turning without a word he want to find the garrison commander. Within minutes the guard had turned out and the gates were secured. The turrets were manned. The women and children were taken into the hall for security. So used were the soldiers to my just being there that no one thought to banish me with them, so I had the luxury of watching.

I saw the two ships sail into the bay - straight into the trap laid by the Commander. The estuary narrowed just past the confluence of the two rivers, before widening out again into the bay by the fort. Across it a chain had been laid, and at the news that strange vessels had been sighted, it had been wound tight. This meant that the hull of the first ship struck it.

It was quite a sight to watch the ship lurch sideways and then, when it reached the tipping point, turn over. The second ship tried to avoid the same fate, but failed.

As the bedraggled survivors struggled to the shore, they were met by Roman troops, who despatched them in short order. Only two were brought into the fort, the others being piled up into a funeral pyre which was still burning when dusk came. One of the survivors was a tall, well-built man, he must have been nearly six feet tall. His blonde hair hung wetly around his shoulders. He scowled at us, but I could understand his words, they were in a dialect similar to our own. His companion interested me more - a woman, also blonde, marked by the tattoos which their sorceresses used. It was hard to tell her age, but through her wet tunic her hardened nipples were visible, something the men had noticed.

"Take them for interrogation," Centurion Marcos ordered.

I asked my father if I could watch. He looked at me as he so often did, wondering what he had spawned.

"If you want to little one."

The man, who was called Edwin, was, he told us under torture, the sub-chief of a Saxon tribe. He had been sent to scout out the state of our defences, but had become greedy and decided to see if there was any plunder to be had. He told us that there would be other ships coming; the tribes of the other side of the Saxon shore knew that Rome's power in these islands was fading and they wanted our lands and wealth. It sounded, to me, a grim prospect.

Having got what they wanted from Edwin, the woman, who was called Berta, was left to the tender mercy of the guards. By the time I got to her they had stripped her and were toying with her breasts and cunt. She was struggling, but four against one could only end in one way.

"Hey! Men, is this what your wives would expect of you?"

My voice and presence stopped them in their tracks.

"Keep out of this runt, unless, that is, you want to join in, it's the only way you'll ever get your maidenhood ripped."

Fortunately, at that point my father joined us. At six feet of muscle and steel, he was not a man to be trifled with.

"I shall pretend I did not hear that - if you all fuck off right now, right away. If not ... ." He drew his sword. My father was not a man to do that without intent, and within moments Berta stood, unmolested. I dashed in and, picking up her tunic, covered her nakedness.

My father left us.

"Thank you, little one, that was an act of kindness."

"I could not let those beasts do that to you. I am Carwen, that was my father."

"I am Berta, I am a priestess among the Saxon tribes, Edwin is my chief."

"I could not let them do what they were going to do," I said, seeking somehow her approval.

"Are you even old enough to know what that was? You are what, fifteen or sixteen?"

I waxed indignant, "No, I am eighteen - just a bit on the small side."

"A bit," she laughed, "that's putting it mildly, but you have a big heart and courage, and they go a long way. Oh, and you can stop staring at my nipples."

Realising I was, I blushed and looked down.

"Do you prefer women to men, Carwen?"

"I, I don't like men," I stammered, "so I don't know. Any way, what do you mean, prefer women?"

As she stepped into her tunic, Berta gave me a full view of her big breasts and her bush.

"I mean, little one," she smiled, "would you like to suck my nipples?"

I was confused, how did she, how could she know that was what I was thinking?

"You are a sorceress, I see?"

"No, little one, I am simply a woman who likes other women and I can spot the signs."

"And what are they?" I asked haughtily.

"Well, what I see is your eyes feasting on me, and when you glimpsed my naked body you could not decide where your gaze should rest. What I would wager money on is that you are wet between your thighs, Carwen. Deny it if you can?"

I could not deny it. Not only was I wet, but I felt a tingling sensation there.

At that moment my father came back, and the tension was broken.

"Carwen, how would it be if our prisoner stayed with us tonight, she cannot stay here, she would not be safe.?"

I agreed that it would be fitting. Berta smiled at me, knowingly.

My parents had their own room, David still occupied the room he and Arthur had shared, so I bunked up with him, allowing Berta to have my room.

Over supper, father explained that Edwin and Berta would be exchanged for some prisoners taken by the Saxons. That decided, we had a relaxing evening, and I retired to David's room. He was soon asleep. I was not.

I kept thinking about Berta, and the more I thought about her the more my sex tingled. Maybe, I thought, if I just collected a parchment from my room, it would distract me. The lies we tell ourselves.

Quiet as a mouse I crept into my room. The parchment was under my bed, so of course, I had to go close to where Berta was asleep.

"I thought you would come, Carwen."

Her voice startled me.

"Get into bed."

Without a second thought I did just that, shrugging of my robe. My naked body slid next to Berta's. I felt my nipples harden and my sex grow wet. She turned and kissed me.

I had never been kissed like this. Her lips seemed to suck on mine, and her tongue pressed its way between my lips and invade my mouth. At the same moment, I felt her nipples rub against mine, and her hand slide between my legs. As she touched me there, I moaned into her mouth.

Berta rolled over onto me, still kissing me, still caressing my sex, and pressing her big breasts into my small puffy mounds. Then, and oh I remember that first time even now, she curled two fingers into me. Were it not for the fact that her mouth covered mine, I should have moaned aloud; as it was her mouth received my groan.

I had never imagined such a sensation. As her fingers went in and out, her thumb rubbed against my bud, and I could not help but push down on her fingers.

Pulling away, she looked at me.

"How does that feel Carwen?"

I admitted it was the best of feelings.

"Now," she said, "lie back and let us play. Follow my lead."

So saying, she rose above me, her arse towards my face, her sex above my face. She smelt different from me, there was a citrus taste; I loved the scent of her. She slowly and deliberately slid her wet sex along the length of my face, and as she pushed back, and down, instinctively I turned my tongue into a tube and found the entrance to her sex. She pushed down, stifling a great groan. I thrust it into her.

I felt her fingers on my sex as she massaged my bud. That made me thrust into her even harder, my face grinding against her hairs and her wetness. As she thrust her fingers into my sex, I was glad she was covering my face.

I loved the scent, I loved the silky smooth feel and her gooey juices. I gripped her hips and fucked her dripping set with my tongue. It was like some instinct told me what to do. Then she exploded, gushing onto my face, and I lapped up her nectar; oh but it tasted so good,

But she did not stop, so I carried on using my tongue, licking her folds and sucking on her lips. She clearly liked it, and it felt good to me. I could feel my own sex begin to spasm as her fingers were thrust deep into me. Her thumb rubbed against my bud and suddenly I felt a rush of blood to my head. I could not control myself and imitated what Berta had just done. It felt wonderful. We collapsed onto each other.

As we both recovered, she asked me whether I had enjoyed it. I nodded enthusiastically.

"Was that better than with men, Carwen?"

When I told her I had never been with a man she laughed.

"Really? Have you ever been with a woman?"

I admitted that I had not. She hugged me.

"That is special my little one. I am honoured to be your first. Kiss me."

I did, tasting myself on her. We snuggled up. She felt warm and comforting. We drifted off to sleep.

I managed to get back to my room before the household awoke, dazed, amazed and excited by my night.

At breakfast Berta and I smiled at each other but gave no clues to what had been. Just as we were finishing, my father turned up:

"There has been a development," he said, and standing aside, he let a tall man with a grey beard come into the house.

"I am Merlin," he said, looking at myself and Berta as though he know precisely what we had been up to. It was my first introduction to the man who would change my life.