Lad of Moss

By SDerkins © 2003


Disclaimers: This story is my own original work and may not be reproduced, either electronically or in print except for personal use. All disclaimers, title, author, and copyright must remain on the copy.


Content Warnings: The story includes scenes of warfare, violence, sexual content, and other themes of an adult nature. If you are underage, living in a place that finds this story unacceptable for viewing, or easily offended, please find something else to read.


Misc Disclaimers: This story was inspired by an ancestor of mine who had been taken as a prisoner in the Battle of Dunbar in 1650 Scotland. Although my characters are totally invented by my Muse, I feel compelled to state that any resemblance to persons either living or dead is purely by accident. Real Characters of the time will be followed by an asterisk (*) the first time mentioned. And PLEASE, I don’t hate the British! Most of my ancestors came from England, Ireland, and Scotland. I have a British friend I adore, so don’t send me hate mail just because my character hates them. I am not putting them down, just trying to follow the history for the time period.


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(June 1650)


Alexia felt only numbness as she placed the last fist full of earth over the mass grave. The young girl didn’t feel the chill of the coming eve nor the wounds she had received at the hands of the cursed English raiders. In shock, she could only stare at the dark soil that hid what had once been her family.


There was no one to comfort her. No priest spoke over their grave. No neighbor or militia came to investigate the black smoke that was still smoldering from the ruins of their tiny cottage. The nearest sheriff was too far away to be of any use. In these troubled times, many stayed close to home. Those who did travel were either soldiers or thieves.


Alexia’s family lived near the English border. Her father had refused to listen to the warnings of his neighbors, stubbornly staying on the land his family had tenanted for generations. Now he laid dead, next to his wife and two sons. The tall lass  wished she could have joined them.


She rubbed her bruised arms and pushed away the events of earlier that day from her mind. Echoes of the horrified screams of her family, the pain, the smell of smoke, and the laughter of the men who did this to them. They had taken her innocence prior to beating her. Assuming she’d be dead before nightfall, they left her battered body on the cold soil outside their cottage and rode away. The farmer’s daughter had awoken to the destruction and horror. Her family slaughtered, her home gone, Alexia  went through the motions to lay her family to rest as best she could, regretting that she couldn’t properly shrive them.


The surviving daughter felt her chin tremble as a sob threatened to burst from inside of her. Biting it back, she turned from the grave and strode away.



Alexia shivered pitifully against the base of a tree. Night had fallen, and with it came a light drizzle. Without a cloak, all she could do was cover her body in fallen leaves as a makeshift blanket. Hunger gnawed at her belly, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten in three days. What land that hadn’t been burned by the army had been picked clean by hungry peasants. Nothing remained except marshland and moss. Food was scarce. English raiders had been stealing flocks and burning fields. She sighed and pushed aside long red hair that dangled in her eyes.


Maybe she’d reach the old castle tomorrow.


Dawn came, raising the temperatures slightly and causing fog. Still chilled in her bed of leaves, she hesitated to rise and lose what little warmth it provided. Alexia pulled her torn collar closer around her neck and shifted nearer to the tree. She decided to remain where she was until the sun rose further. Then a sound caught her ears. Something rustling in the distance.


Startled, she sat up quickly, looking frantically around her. What was it? Her ears strained in the morning silence, aware that even the birds did not sing. Another sound came from her right. A thump. Then the sounds of men’s voices speaking in excited softness.


Terrified that it might be raiders, Alexia scrambled to the bushes nearby and hid in their shadows. The voices came closer. She held her breath in fear, praying to the Holy Mother that she would not be discovered. She peered through the leaves of her hiding place and watched as a young man burst through the brush, followed by two men.


His head was bleeding and he stumbled over a tree root in his panic. The two men quickly caught him and began beating him. ‘Thieves’ Alexia thought. The young man couldn’t be more than fourteen, but he fought bravely. In spite of pummeled by two men, he managed to pull a small knife from his belt and wound one of his assailants. Bellowing in pain, the thief pulled his arm back protectively and kicked at the youngster on the ground.


Something snapped inside of Alexia. Anger at their violence against a fellow Scot left her filled with cold fury. Weren’t the cursed English killing enough of them? She grabbed a stout branch from the ground and lifted it high as a primal scream tore from her throat. Startled, the thieves ducked instinctively. The tall girl swung her weapon and caught one thief along his ear. He slumped to the ground.


Inspired by her attack, the young man leapt into the fray with new vigor. He grabbed the other attacker by his sleeve and plunged his knife into his belly. One dead, the other one stunned, he pinned down the fallen man and began beating him senseless with his fists.


Alexia watched as the youth spent his fury on the half-dead man. Panting in exhaustion, he wobbled to his feet and faced her. They stared at one another warily for a moment, then he grinned.


“Ye be a tall lass and my savior. I thank ye,” he said with a thick brogue. He clearly wasn’t a borderer. “I’m Donald Steward, and yer name lass?”


“Alexia Browne,” she said shyly.


“A bonnie name. Why are ye alone lass? Is yer family nearby?”


“Nay, they were killed not three days ago by English raiders. I’m going to a village near Old Caerlaverock Castle. I’m hoping to find some of my mam’s kin there, otherwise I’m alone in this world,” she murmured sadly.


Donald heaved a great sigh. How did her tell the girl she’d be turned away? Orphans were common, and the land was poor. The girl was dressed in naught but rags and from the looks of her, ruined by the raiders. Even if she found kin, what family would take in a soiled dove? Perhaps if she lied and claimed to be a widow…but he looked at the gawky tall redhead with a jaundiced eye and knew her looks would make her story doubtful.


Barely into her womanhood, perhaps his own age, the lass looked more boy than woman. Tall, big boned, and plain-faced as a donkey, she had little beauty. The girl was sturdily made, obviously raised on a farm. Her arms and shoulders were powerfully built and her hands callused. Even her voice sounded rough, like a boy hitting his manhood. An idea suddenly came upon him.


“Lass, hae ye any skills other than housewifery?” he asked.


The girl shrugged. Her father had worked her as hard as her brothers. The land was poor and the work was much. She told Donald this.


“Hmm, perhaps I hae an idea. To be blunt wi ye, ye hae little hope of finding shelter in the village. What they need is men for Leslie’s army,” Donald kicked the beaten thief, “If ye took his clothing and dressed as a man, ye might find work. Maybe the villagers will hire ye, or perhaps ye can find employment wi the army as a cook. Ye ken?”


Alexia felt her stomach tighten. She understood. Facing the reality that as a woman to make a way in this world was with marriage or as a whore. Without a dowry nor her virginity, a decent marriage was unlikely. As for her other option, she shuddered in fear. 


“Do ye think I could pass, Master Steward?” she asked nervously.


“Aye, if ye shear yer locks and were careful. At least for a few years. After that…” he shrugged. She agreed and together, they stripped the thief from his clothing. She wrinkled her nose at their odor.


“I’ll not don them until they are rinsed,” Alexia vowed. There was a stream nearby. She submerged the rough clothing into the icy water and cleansed them as best she could without soap. She wrung them out and hung them over a long branch in order to carry them over her shoulder.


“They can dry as we walk Donald Steward. When we near the village, I’ll change.”


The young man nodded before handing her a leather pouch and dropping a blue hat onto her head.


“The thief’s bag. I think ye earned what little possessions he carried.”


She inspected the pouch, finding a fire starting flint, a crude knife, and a few copper coins. Alexia handed the knife to Donald and asked him to cut her hair.  He hacked it away, leaving it shoulder length. A piece of cord held it in a simple tail. She thanked the youth and they started their journey.



The smell of smoke warned them of people nearby. Leaving the road, she modestly stood behind a bush and donned the damp clothing. It was slightly big on her, but it hid what few curves she possessed. The heavy material was also much warmer than her old clothing. She bundled her torn dress and buried it under a bush. Picking up the pouch, she slung it across her chest. She stepped out into the open for Donald’s inspection.


He nodded. She looked like a gangly youth. They had already discussed her new name, Alexander, in case she accidentally tried to give her true name. Donald gave her a few pointers and hoped it would be enough.


They walked further and spotted the village that sat near the ruined Caerlaverock Castle. It had been taken in 1640 by The Covenanters and partially dismantled. The once proud keep sat eerily upon the loch. Alexia felt a shiver along her spine at its image and continued to the small village. She and Donald made inquiries, and to their disappointment, no employment was available. The men who had joined Leslie’s army had already left the burgh. Many advised them to go west, towards the next largest community.


Spending the few coins they had, bought simple food supplies and headed out of the village. Many of the people there had a hungry look, and the couple feared being robbed if they stayed there overnight.


Agreeing in whispers that they might be followed, they left the road and headed directly north. It wasn’t where they were advised to go, but the forest and the glens were safer than the roads. Donald wanted to head away from the border, not travel along it, Alexia agreed. Stopping to camp an hour before nightfall, Donald took a piece of string and disappeared. He returned shortly.


“What are ye up to Donald Steward?” Alexia asked.


“Oh, just a bit of hunting my friend. I set a trap.”


“Donald, that’s poaching! If we’re caught-“


“We won’t be,” he assured her. “Besides, I dinna think the food we bought will last our journey. I, for one, don’t intend to travel on an empty belly.” A sudden squeal from nearby caused the young man to grin. “Care for some rabbit?”


The thought of a roasted hare made her mouth water. It had been a long time since she last ate meat. Seeing the hungry look in her eyes, he grinned wider and went into the forest for his prize. Alexia quickly assembled kindling for a fire. Once it burned enough to go unsupervised, she began hunting for larger pieces of wood to burn and form a spit. Donald returned with a gutted rabbit, ready for cooking. Spitting it neatly, he placed it between two forked sticks.


Taking two potatoes from their sack, she rinsed them then sliced a notch from each. Placing them on hot stones to bake, she would catch  drippings from the rabbit and flavor the roots. She wished she had a fry pan. Alexia would have fried the rabbit and saved the drippings to cook onions and potatoes in, then added bits of their vegetables. The idea of stovies made her hungrier. Her mother made the best…She quickly pushed aside the memory, unwilling to weep once more.


‘I’m pretending to be a man, so act like it. Don’t snivel at every little thing!’’ she scolded herself.


The two travelers chatted while their meal cooked. Donald was also an orphan. His father had died of a fever, quickly followed by his second wife. Donald had an infant brother, whom he had given to a nursing woman. Without ties, he took to the road, working just to earn a place to sleep and a meal. He had no purpose in mind, but of late, Donald had been thinking.


“Ye ken, David Leslie is looking for more men for his army,” he told Alexia, “Word has it that Charles*² {the second} signed a Covenant promising us more say in our country if we help him gain England’s throne. We could finally get rid of these cursed English overlords and rule in our own right.”


“And ye are telling me this because?” the redhead asked, seeing the hesitation on his face.


“Well, rumor is that there’s a wee bit of trouble within the  Council of State, and if the Scots strike whilst the iron is hot, we could easily defeat the English army. But tis just a rumor have ye.” Donald glanced at his companion, hoping for a clue to her thoughts. 


“Donald, are ye telling me we ought to join Leslie’s army? Are ye forgetting I be a woman? What do I ken of warfare?” She threw her hands in the air, “Join them if ye wish, but leave yer high and mighty plans to yer fine self,” She spat.


“Alexia,” he said softly, leaning closer to her, “do ye plan on leaving yer family unavenged?  Ye hae no clansmen to battle for ye. What do ye hae to cling to in this world but yer country and yer honor? I hate to be blunt wi ye, but ye are no longer a virgin nor hae a dowry in order to wed. Not even the church would take ye now. Yer only choice is a short life as a whore or die in debtors prison. At least as a soldier, ye have a chance to avenge yer family. Kill a few bloody Englishmen and die honorably. If ye live, ye could take yer pay and start anew elsewhere, perhaps the colonies. What is the difference? Die quickly or linger in misery. The choice is yers. I am heading for the nearest post where I may sign on.” Donald tossed the bones from his meal into the fire and rolled over.


Alexia stared at his back, her thoughts reeling. His words made sense, but could she get away with it? It was one thing to be disguised as a man to fool villagers, but to live inside a camp of men? Leaning against the base of a boulder, the young lass let her thoughts swirl as she drifted to sleep.



The next morning, neither of them spoke much. Alexia was content to give Donald the lead, meekly following. He kept up a brisk pace, only stopping to refill his water skin at a stream or to keep care of necessities of the body. Near dusk, they spotted a town on the horizon. They could easily reach it late the next morning. Donald spoke for the first time.


“Do ye want to stop here? I could set another snare. Tis likely be our last decent meal, one way or another. Hae ye thought on what I said?”


“Yes, and I’ve decided to join ye. Ye are right, my choices are few. I just hope I’m not discovered. If I am, I’ll deny that ye ken my gender. I dinna want ye to be hanged next to me.” Alexia assured him. He nodded.


Alexia set up a simple camp while Donald set his snare. Glancing into their canvas bag of food, she removed several onions and a few turnips. She would spit them along side whatever he snared.


He returned just before sunset, carrying a partridge. It wouldn’t go far but it would be a welcomed treat. Changing her mind on what to cook, she took out some hardening bread and diced the onions. Donald finished plucking the bird and handed it over. She kept the liver and heart, chopping them fine and adding them to the bread and onions. Adding a bit of water and salt, she stuffed the bird.


“Tis unusual but I think it will be tasty,” Donald commented.


“I wish we had herbs to add to it. My mother had a wee kitchen garden. She was forever snipping at some plant or another,” she said mournfully as she cleaned out their only bowl.


Donald didn’t know what to say to comfort his new friend. Reaching out, he gave her shoulder a soft squeeze. She turned her head away, but not before he saw the glimmer of tears brimming in her eyes. With a heavy sigh, he leaned back and allowed her time to regain her composure. He fed the fire a bit more then took a drink of tepid water from his skin.


Grimacing, he made a sound of disgust. Alexia chuckled in spite of her tears. “Put a bit of oatmeal in it. I’ll take some of the foul taste away.”


“T’will turn the water to sludge.” He protested.


“Nay, not if ye don’t slosh it about. T’will settle on the bottom. We did that with our water barrel in winter.”


Donald raised a doubtful eyebrow but did as she suggested. After several minutes, he took a tentative sip. It tasted much better.


After eating their meal, they both settled down for an evening’s rest.



The town of Dumfries was a large bustling community about eight miles north of the ruined castle. The travelers wandered into the market area. Donald, strolled about casually, since it wasn’t his first time in a large town. Alexia, however, barely curbed the desire to cover her ears, unaccustomed to such noise. Her eyes took in the vast amounts of food, wares, and services available. Never had she seen so much in one place. Donald noticed several men dressed in worn uniforms and headed their way while his companion followed reluctantly.


He approached the men and politely addressed them. “Excuse me, but me and my friend here hae thought about joining Leslie’s army. How would we go about doing this?”


The men looked at them warily. Most of the soldiers were not volunteers, but men who were pressed into the army by their lords. Very few joined on their own. The older private looked them over, not impressed in the least. The one who spoke to him was a lad of perhaps 15, not of large size. Probably a clerk’s son. Peering past him, he took in the tall youth with red hair. Grunting to himself as he saw the boy wasn’t even old enough to shave in spite of his height. Neither was destined to be rough soldiers but he knew Leslie would turn down no one if possible. Every warm body was needed.


“Follow me,” he ordered.


The companions found themselves being introduced to an officer in a red uniform. With little fanfare, both signed their marks to the army’s rolls. Passed to another soldier, they received their simple course uniforms and gear bags. They were gruffly told where to sleep and when to report for training come morning.




The two companions joined the other new arrivals at a field on the edge of the army camp. To Donald’s eyes, the place seemed haphazard and unorganized. He was quite correct.


Word had reached the ears of the commanding officers that Counsel of State in England felt threatened by the Scots asking that Charles II become their new king. Fearing an invasion by the English would come sooner than they expected, the new recruits were being rushed through training. Leslie needed all the men that could be mustered as quickly as possible.


An officer in red approached them and pointed to several men, Alexia included, and had them step aside from the rest of the group. Privates handed them muskets and stepped back.


“Each of ye will each hae a few turns firing these weapons. Those with aptitude for them will be trained in firearms. Those with aptitude for pikes or swords in those weapons.” He went on, explaining each step in loading the muskets. Alexia listened carefully, not wishing to make any mistakes.


Once each of them finished, they each stepped forward one at a time to shoot at a target about fifty feet away. The redhead was fourth in line. The first man lifted the heavy weapon and held it unsteadily. Upon firing it, Alexia nearly yelped girlishly at the roar of the rifle.


The man missed the target. The second boom of the weapon was less startling and Alexia listened to the advice given to the third man. He managed to hit the edge of the target, winning a grunt of approval from the officer. The girl stepped forward and lifted her weapon. Taking a deep breath, she glanced down the length of the weapon, then released the flint trigger.


The smell of powder and the noise caused her to nearly drop it, but she managed to keep it in her grip. A hardy slap to her shoulder by the officer caused her to stumble forward.


“Good shooting lad! Ye hit it dead center,” he beamed. She grinning back at him and stepped aside for the next man. Alexia was allowed to fire her musket three times, and managed to hit near the center on each of the shots. Asked if she could ride a horse, the officer nodded and informed her that she was to be trained for the Dragoones, or the cavalry.


Many hours later, as she joined the others for mid-day meal, she found Donald.


“Which training will you enter?” he asked as they sat down under a tree. She swallowed her bite of bread and told him.


“Ye are lucky. The cavalry ride instead of walking. Me, I get to carry a pike and walk. Seems I am too small to manage a claymore.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice.


“Rumor is, we’ll be joining Leslie and his army quickly. The English New Army is gathering and it canna be long before they cross the border. I heard two officers grumbling because they canna train us properly in the time they hae,” he informed her.


He soon proved right. Nine days later, everyone was ordered to break camp and prepare to march. They were to travel northeast to join with brigades waiting there.


Alexia knew how to ride but never in her life had she spent the entire day doing so. The army stopped only a few times each day for meals. The young lass got off her horse gratefully and moaned, her thighs killing her. She hobbled to a thicket of bushes to relieve herself, careful not to be seen. With one discomfort eased, she joined the others in line to wait for her food.


It was a simple meal of hard bread, cheese, a cold slice of ham, and a mug of ale. She had hoped for a warm meal since the day had been chilly but didn’t complain like so many of the others.  She knew she had it lucky in comparison.


Most of the foot soldiers had already developed blisters because of their poorly shod boots. They were also tired and sore from carrying their packs and weapons. They grumbled under their breaths so the officers wouldn’t hear them as they took the knives issued to them to break the swollen flesh. Alexia thought it was a bad idea but kept silent.  The less attention she received the better.


She quickly finished her meal and cleaned her utensils. Returning them to her pack, she strolled around the camp to loosen her sore muscles. All too soon, they were ordered to make ready to march.



(Early Sept 1650)


             Several weeks later, they found themselves attached to brigades. Things were crumbling in Alexia’s opinion. The Covenanting ministers had authority of the Scottish military and to Leslie’s frustration, they had dismissed any soldier that didn’t meet up with their godly standards. Many of the experienced soldiers had been ousted from the army, leaving mainly inexperienced men.


              Because of this, Leslie decided that most of the troops were to remain in Edinburgh behind the walls. By avoiding open conflict with the English and using ambush tactics to chip away at the English troops, as well as burning fields, he hoped to defeat them by starvation and illness. 


            It was working. Cromwell’s*‡ forces were marching across Scotland on little more than nerve. Their supply ship was waiting for them in Dunbar which was several days away. The English soldiers were wet, tired, and starving. Only the officers were given tents in which to sleep at night.


           Unable to defeat Edinburgh, and the Scottish army sitting on a hill overlooking their path to the sea—and blocking a land route back to England.  The English army was in bad shape and knew it. They needed a miracle and now. Resigned, they headed for the port in Dunbar and hoped for the best.


           It came in the form of the ministers in charge of the Scottish army. Convinced the English were retreating, they ordered Leslie to attack. Leaving their advantageous position on Doon Hill, they camped in the cornfields and awaited Cromwell’s troops.


          Seeing this, Cromwell sent 9 regiments out during the dark of night to flank the Scots. The tide was turning.




Alexia sat around a fire with several men while they drank their beer and spoke of the next day. The girl felt her stomach clench, not in the least anxious for it to begin. This would be her first, and most likely, last battle. Her fellow soldiers were confident of their victory and joked and laughed half the day.


Most of the officers were visiting local farms nearby, looking forward to a good night’s rest and hot meals. In the camps, men were also entertained by a few forward lasses who ‘consoled’ poor soldiers for a price. Alexia did her best to ignore the grunts and groans inside nearby tents. Several times she was taunted for not indulging in a bit of ‘manly sport’.


“Alex lad, come here,” a man said, obviously choking on laughter. Men snickered as she looked over her shoulder. Walter stood there, his arm draped over a young camp follower. She was just a few years older than Alexia, with curly brown hair and a pleasing figure.


“Stand up lad, and bend a leg to Molly. The fellows and I thought you ought to be introduced to manhood before your first battle.” The others chuckled as young Alex turned scarlet and stuttered out a protest, which they ignored. Alexia found herself shoved into an empty tent on the edge of camp.


“No need to be nervous lad, I be good to ye,” Molly crooned, her hands sliding down her arms.


“You don’t understand, I can’t!” she argued.


“Och, surely ye can. A fine strapping lad like yerself is willing and able. I bet yer-” Molly’s hand slid down Alexia’s body, intending to give the lad a squeeze, she found something else. “Blimey! Yer a-“ Alexia quickly covered her mouth. Molly didn’t struggle so Alexia dropped her hand.


“Yer a woman?” she whispered in shock. The red head nodded, blushing. The camp follower quickly sat her down onto the blanket.


“Listen, I’ll not tell a soul, but ye hae got to do as I say. The fellows outside are probably listening to what we’re doing, ye know how men are. We’ve got to give them a good show or they’ll likely come in to show ye how it’s done, ye ken?”


Alexia gulped audibly and asked what to do. Molly smiled and pulled the startled woman down on top of her. She occasionally took other women as lovers and she was attracted to the shy redhead.  “Hae ye ever been kissed lass?” she asked softly. Alexia shook her head.


Molly gently urged her face closer and brushed her lips with her own. The kiss was soft and unhurried. At first, the Lass from Moss was shocked and almost pulled away, but as the kiss continued, she found she liked how it felt. She tentatively returned the kiss, lost in the gentleness of it. When Molly opened her mouth further and used her tongue to tease her lip, Alexia groaned in pleasure, copying the other woman’s motions with her own.


The men outside the tent elbowed one another as they watched the hazy shadows inside the tent. They were doing their best to keep quiet, not wanting the lad to know he was on display.


Inside, Molly was experiencing a liquid warmth she only felt with other women. Men paid for their sex, but the coupling was quick and rough. This young lass was gentle, and although inexperienced, seemed to be sharing her pleasure.


She brought Alexia’s hand to her breast. Somewhat shy at first, the lass began touching it softly, plumping the tender mound. Molly moaned and broke the kiss. She quickly unbuttoned her shift, baring her breasts. Alexia looked shaken and her wide eyes glanced nervously at her, silently asking what she wanted of her.


“Caress them, use your hands and mouth,” she instructed in a soft whisper.


Alexia lifted her shaking hand and touched the warm flesh. Surprised at how cushy soft it was, she began gently kneading it as Molly closed her eyes in obvious pleasure. Feeling more confident, her caresses became bolder as Molly’s breathing grew louder. Alexia watched, fascinated as the dark pink nipples of her teats hardened and puckered. Curious, she pinched it softly and watched as Molly arched and whimpered.


“Did I hurt ye?” she asked worriedly.


“Nay, if feels divine,” the camp follower gasped. Reassured, Alexia returned to the caresses, feeling a longing she had no name for. She felt warm and her heart was racing, but not from fear. As she explored Molly’s breasts, she felt an ache in her own. Recalling Molly had asked that she use her mouth as well, she bent closer. The sight of the puckered flesh made her mouth water, as though she was looking at a lavish meal.


Eagerly, she took the beaded nub into her mouth and followed her instincts. Suckling on the flesh, she felt Molly arch and writhe beneath her. The woman’s actions brought out an unknown feeling of power in the young lass pleasuring her. Instinctively, she knew her touches were drawing out exquisite sensations from the woman. Now excited and aroused, Alexia began feasting on the flesh in earnest.


Moving to the other breast, she eagerly took the hard nipple between her teeth and tugged, making the woman squeal and arch. Pleased at her response, Alexia repeated the motion before taking it into her mouth. While the soldier was suckling hard on it, Molly wrapped her short legs about her waist and held on tightly. She was moaning non-stop, urging her on with words of praise. Alexia felt powerful and although she didn’t know where this would go, was eager to follow it to the end.


After several minutes, Molly pushed Alexia back a bit and dragged her skirt up, showing her lack of undergarments. Alexia saw another woman’s privies for the first time, staring at the wet nest and thighs.


“Come here lad,” Molly ordered, pulling Alexia down once more. Taking Alexia’s hand, she led it to her damp curls and pulled the red haired lass close. “Feel that?” she asked as the lad/lass’ strong fingers explored her wetness and found her sensitive node. Alexia nodded. “Keep yer fingers right there sweetness, and rock yer body against mine. Like a man taking a woman,” she instructed quietly.


Alexia began moving her body over the camp follower eagerly, fascinated by the woman’s responses. She clutched at her clothing, moaning and gasping with each forward thrust. The lass felt the flesh under her hand grow even slicker. Finding it erotic, she pushed her body harder against the slight woman beneath her and buried her face into her neck, sucking and biting on the taunt flesh there.


Molly squealed but didn’t push her away. Instead, she wrapped her arms tighter about her back and urged her for more. The slick flesh coated her hand and she could feel her fingers pressing lower. She became aware of Molly’s opening and she slid her fingers further down. Molly moaned and told her yes. Encouraged, Alexia’s fingers pushed into the hot entrance and moaned at how the wet heat gloved them. Still thrusting her body in tempo to Molly’s, she pushed her fingers inside further. The sensations caused by the motion felt wonderful so the lass from Moss drew them out to thrust again, beginning a steady rhythm. 


Molly arched high, bringing her breasts within reach of her mouth. Taking a nipple, she eagerly took it into her mouth. Molly’s breathing changed and Alexia sensed something was changing. Within seconds, Molly screamed out her male name and the flesh around her fingers throbbed and squeezed them. Startled by the reaction, the redhead stopped what she was doing, her fingers still deep inside the woman. Molly laid there panting heavily, her eyes closed and body limp. Alexia was at a loss and waited, unsure what to do.


When the woman finally opened her yes to look at the concerned soldier, she smiled warmly. “Sweetness, if ye were a man, I would marry ye,” she whispered with a large grin. Molly kissed her softly and caressed her hair. Alexia drew out her fingers and got to her knees. Molly took a rag from her pocket and wiped off her hand. Standing, she straightened her clothing and took Alexia’s arm as they left the tent.


Grinning men waited outside for them. Molly sent them a beaming smile and reached into her pocket, withdrawing the copper coins they paid her for her services for the soldier. “Here, ye keep it. If’n I were to be honest, I should be paying young Alex for his services. He’s got the gift of pleasing a woman,” she told the stunned men. She leaned forward and kissed Alexia goodbye, to the rowdy catcalls from the men.



To Be Continued





David Leslie*¹- The grandson of Andrew Leslie, the 5th Earl of Rothes. He fought in several battles before being defeated by Cromwell and captured in 1651 in Worchester, held captive in the Tower of London. When Charles II was restored in 1660, he was made Lord Newark.


             Charles II*²- King during1660-85 AD, the son of King Charles I and Henrietta Marie of France. He was one of nine children. He escaped to France after his father’s execution. After the miserable failure defeat with Cromwell, he once again escaped to France until 8 years later when the Commonwealth dissolved. He took the crown on his 30th birthday, May 29, 1660


           King Charles I*³- King during 1625-49 AD, the second son of James I and Anne of Denmark. An unpopular King that was always butting heads with parliament. He was finally executed in 1649 after a civil war.


           Oliver Cromwell*‡- 1649-1658 AD, A puritan who represented his family in both the short and long Parliament. A gifted speaker and later a capable military leader, he formed the New Model Army. During the political upheavals of the mid 1600’s, he attempted to placate all the arguing factions. Unsuccessful, England returned to monarchy 2 years after his death.

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