INVASION IN IRELAND – CIRCA 730AD
Mc Neil looked out over The Head of Hook and scanned the horizon for anything strange. Not that he expected to see anything. This was boring he thought, time he could be spending with Maebh. His mind went back to hours previously and his cock grew hard at the thoughts of her young, supple body. It had been their first time together, her first time with a man at all. Waiting for her to reach her 20th birthday had been worth it he thought. Her parents, realising two years previously their attachment to each other had insisted on the courtship so they could be sure of their feelings for each other. Now that they had been together their marriage would be iminent. Children would follow and the circle of life would begin again. Woodstown had been peacefull now for a long time, tribal cooperation had made it so and its residents like Mc Neil and Maebh were enjoying the novelty of years without war.
Six months previously in the aftermath of a fierce Winter storm the wreck of a ship had been washed up in the estuary near the village. Locals at first sight were excited at the prospect of a salvage bounty but when the ship was investigated it was found to be a warship. Still in chains, the corpses of 50 slaves were found on benches, some still grasping the oars in their deadmens grips. Their bodies were covered in the scars of having been whipped and each one had been branded with the same mark on their shoulder blade. No sign of any warriors were found, all had drowned in the freezing Irish Sea but there had been much debate amongst the locals as to what course of action to take. It was decided that all men of fighting age should undergo more intensive training in the arts of war. The ironmongers swapped making cooking utensils and the like and were now making swords, arrows and shields. The whole village lived under the vague threat that if one warship had got so near more must surely follow. By the lighthouse at Hook looking out towards Wales watchmen were posted in case of the arrival of more ships. Such was Mc Neils position that evening when he would much have preferred to be fucking young Meabh. Must concentrate he thought to himself and pulled his goatskin jacket around his muscular frame as he scanned out to sea watching for the first sign of sails that would signal the end of the peace in Woodstown.
Woodstown was located at the mouth of The Hook Estuary in South East Ireland. Because of the peaceful times that existed in Ireland and the violent tribal wars that raged all over Europe, Woodstown and the rest of the country had seen a large number of refugees arriving for sanctuary from the persecution of The Roman Empire. Two years previously a ship had arrived in nearby Waterford filled with such refugees. Amongst the most unusual was a woman from The Far East called Yupar. None knew her history but one unfotunate moron who attempted to force himself on her had died violently at her hand that very night. In the intervening years she had proved herself a wise and knowedgeable member of The Village Council, constantly warning of the possible arrival of a force from The South of Europe. Her beauty made her the object of many approaches from men but she only politely answered that she awaited the arrival of her friends she had last seen in France, Messaline and Barbara. One night when all the council were together they got her to speak of her past. With tears in her eyes she described the arrival of The Romans in her land. How they arrived to a friendly people but by their sheer brutality had turned the locals against them. An insurrection had followed, failed and been repressed. All the men in the town were crucified without exception. Women and girls were raped en masse, those who resisted were unbelievably crucified also. Yupar, in floods of bitter tears, told of her own family. Her brother and father had been killed in battle, her sister and mother enslaved, she alone had escaped. Now she had sworn to return someday but meanwhile had come as far away as she could to escape from her past life. Her great friend in Ireland was similar in age to her. Erin.
Erin was undisputed matriarch of The Village and surrounding area, yet she was only 27. Her father had ruled for many years, wisely and with great justice. He had died of old age in his own bed at the age of 82. His daughter Erin had been the choice of all to be his successor. Now 29 Erin was mesmorising. Slim of build but tall she was immensely brave and a great and charismatic leader of men. Her stature, beauty and a mane of red hair which fell over her shoulders was matched only by her curves. Man alive she was the most beautiful woman in Munster! When the exotic Yupar first appeared the two were instantly friends, some whispered lovers. When seen together their laughter and physical closeness were obvious to all. When they approached talkative men would fall silent, women would look enviously and children rushed to their sides.
An idylic place, a wonderful life. In the midst of all this were Maebh and Mc Neil. Young, handsome and very much in love their lives stretched out in front of them with infinite possibility. Their lives and those of their friends in Woodstown seemed perfect. In her private quarters Erin put on her robe and returned to the side of her bed. Yupar looked up at her, her eyes wet with tears of happiness. ‘Oh Erin my love I’m so happy, you have made my life here a dream’. Erin smiled and looked out as the fire from the lighthouse caught her eye. Beneath the fire Shevac looked out to sea. Nothing.
350 miles away in modern Wales on a hillside outside Fishguard a figure moved on a cross and cried out in dreadfull, dying pain. Naked, nailed to a Roman Cross along with 200 of her fellow villagers Eulalia cursed the invaders who had taken her village. Her body covered in marks from the whipping she had received hung from the stipes. Her ass sat on a cornu which having worked up through her was now slowly reaching the end of its journey. The insides of her thighs were stained with dried blood and cum, she could no longer lift herself and hung there, her ribs barely lifting as death approached. The last thing she saw as her eyes closed were the sails crossing The Irish Sea.
tbc
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You can't win, Newb! 
