but nowadays I have a beautyqueen........................my own, now bald redhead with a cap as crown..................and she is very important for meMais toutes les femmes sont des "Princesses", admi ....
All the women are Princesses ...
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The Lotus Smiles
- Thread starter messaline
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I know, admi and I hope that it could be better for her ...
RacingRodent
Consul
Episode 3 Being the storms of sea and heart that Marco meets on route
One small junk, two petite princess, one big ocean. It all seemed awfully crowded. The Princess Cocacin kept mostly to her tent and the Princess Mingyu kept mostly in her cabin. Each would from time to time take a stroll on deck and wish to have matters nautical explained to them by that great adventurer and explorer Marco Polo.
This would have been fine, even flattering, save on those occasions that both Princesses choose the same time to take an interest in the sea and the oceans. At which point Marco Polo soon found himself in a lot of trouble. He tried alternately favouring each Princess with his company; they each accused him of favouring the other. He tried exerting his supposed Imperial authority and setting them strict times to walk the decks. They each made a point of disobeying those times.
If the yelling was not enough there was the weapons practice. Each woman spent an inordinate amount of time practicing with instruments of death and dismemberment. All it took was one catty remark by either of them and you could forget daggers drawn, there would be swords drawn or bows or halberds and that was before you counted the two equally heavily armed retinues.
Marco was soon enough anxiously checking the small mirror he used to examine the work of his servant in barbering and attiring him for grey hairs.
Then one night, just when it could not get any worse, well of course it did.
Marco work up quickly enough that night. He could feel the ship was not moving right. He soon made his way up on deck. Just as he feared the stars across one half of the sky were already disappearing behind the looming black clouds. Sea spray was mixing with fat droplets of fresh water from above and the ocean itself was beginning to churn. A storm was rolling in.
“We need to turn into the wind,” Marco said loudly to the night watch on the tiller.
“That will take us far off course Your Honour,” Protested the officer in charge.
“If we don’t that storm yonder will catch us broadside and sink us and then where will be?” Marco pointed at the cloud bank and the roar of the increasing wind gave point to his words. The Malay sighed and gave the order to make the turn. This of course brought the Captain on deck but he soon understood the necessity.
Then the Princess Mingyu came out of her cabin. She wore a green halter top and set of pantaloons in the same shade, cat’s ears of green makeup accentuated each eye and set off her darkly golden skin and glossy black hair. “What is going on Marco Polo?”
“We are turning into the wind in order to ride out a storm Your Highness,” He explained.
“Very well I shall be in my…” Just then a sudden wave made the ship lurch and Mingyu tumbled into Marco’s arms, “Unhand me!”
“You would rather I let you fall?” He asked, she glared until he released her, Mingyu was Marco Polo realised quite a pleasant handful.
“I shall be in my cabin,” She said and sauntered off.
Well that seemed safe enough, the trouble lay, it soon became apparent in the Mongol Princess Cocacin’s tent. It was tough, there were storms on the steppes, but nothing like the winds they were meeting out here and it quickly began to show signs of strain, especially when waves started crashing over the bows to add to the mix, at that point the material began to give way.
“You Highness you must take safety below decks,” Marco Polo found that easy enough to persuade a bedraggled Cocacin. Her finery of layers of golden brocade beginning to shine see-thru as more and more water penetrated.
“You must save my tent,” She ordered as she passed below.
That proved easy said than done. No sooner had crew men untied some of the guy ropes than the tent suddenly took flight. Worse it became a huge sail that was threatening to drag the junk and around and lay it in exactly the broadside on to the wind every seaman was so anxious to avoid in these conditions.
Marco tried valiantly. They used the grappling hooks mounted on boarding gaffs to try and capture flapping fabric but it seemed determined to behave as a wind demon and actually hauled at least a pair of Chinese sailors aloft and almost spilled them into the angry sea.
There was nothing for it. “Well will have to cut the tent loose,” said the Captain.
“Good idea, see to it,” Marco agreed.
“No,” said the Captain and handed him the axe, “You do it, we are not getting in trouble with an Imperial Princess.”
Marco sighed and took the axe to the bow of the ship. A wave dashed over him but by now he had had such a drenching he hardly noticed. He raised the axe and brought it down once twice, then a third time on a thick rope that flailed around like some giant tentacle while he attended to the second. Then he dealt with the third and the job was done the tent fly away into the night and the ship was safe.
So too was Marco Polo. At least that was for the three days of foul weather. Then Cocacin recovered enough from her sea sickness to inquire as to why her surrounding were not as royal as those of Mingyu and Marco Polo was back in trouble again.
One small junk, two petite princess, one big ocean. It all seemed awfully crowded. The Princess Cocacin kept mostly to her tent and the Princess Mingyu kept mostly in her cabin. Each would from time to time take a stroll on deck and wish to have matters nautical explained to them by that great adventurer and explorer Marco Polo.
This would have been fine, even flattering, save on those occasions that both Princesses choose the same time to take an interest in the sea and the oceans. At which point Marco Polo soon found himself in a lot of trouble. He tried alternately favouring each Princess with his company; they each accused him of favouring the other. He tried exerting his supposed Imperial authority and setting them strict times to walk the decks. They each made a point of disobeying those times.
If the yelling was not enough there was the weapons practice. Each woman spent an inordinate amount of time practicing with instruments of death and dismemberment. All it took was one catty remark by either of them and you could forget daggers drawn, there would be swords drawn or bows or halberds and that was before you counted the two equally heavily armed retinues.
Marco was soon enough anxiously checking the small mirror he used to examine the work of his servant in barbering and attiring him for grey hairs.
Then one night, just when it could not get any worse, well of course it did.
Marco work up quickly enough that night. He could feel the ship was not moving right. He soon made his way up on deck. Just as he feared the stars across one half of the sky were already disappearing behind the looming black clouds. Sea spray was mixing with fat droplets of fresh water from above and the ocean itself was beginning to churn. A storm was rolling in.
“We need to turn into the wind,” Marco said loudly to the night watch on the tiller.
“That will take us far off course Your Honour,” Protested the officer in charge.
“If we don’t that storm yonder will catch us broadside and sink us and then where will be?” Marco pointed at the cloud bank and the roar of the increasing wind gave point to his words. The Malay sighed and gave the order to make the turn. This of course brought the Captain on deck but he soon understood the necessity.
Then the Princess Mingyu came out of her cabin. She wore a green halter top and set of pantaloons in the same shade, cat’s ears of green makeup accentuated each eye and set off her darkly golden skin and glossy black hair. “What is going on Marco Polo?”
“We are turning into the wind in order to ride out a storm Your Highness,” He explained.
“Very well I shall be in my…” Just then a sudden wave made the ship lurch and Mingyu tumbled into Marco’s arms, “Unhand me!”
“You would rather I let you fall?” He asked, she glared until he released her, Mingyu was Marco Polo realised quite a pleasant handful.
“I shall be in my cabin,” She said and sauntered off.
Well that seemed safe enough, the trouble lay, it soon became apparent in the Mongol Princess Cocacin’s tent. It was tough, there were storms on the steppes, but nothing like the winds they were meeting out here and it quickly began to show signs of strain, especially when waves started crashing over the bows to add to the mix, at that point the material began to give way.
“You Highness you must take safety below decks,” Marco Polo found that easy enough to persuade a bedraggled Cocacin. Her finery of layers of golden brocade beginning to shine see-thru as more and more water penetrated.
“You must save my tent,” She ordered as she passed below.
That proved easy said than done. No sooner had crew men untied some of the guy ropes than the tent suddenly took flight. Worse it became a huge sail that was threatening to drag the junk and around and lay it in exactly the broadside on to the wind every seaman was so anxious to avoid in these conditions.
Marco tried valiantly. They used the grappling hooks mounted on boarding gaffs to try and capture flapping fabric but it seemed determined to behave as a wind demon and actually hauled at least a pair of Chinese sailors aloft and almost spilled them into the angry sea.
There was nothing for it. “Well will have to cut the tent loose,” said the Captain.
“Good idea, see to it,” Marco agreed.
“No,” said the Captain and handed him the axe, “You do it, we are not getting in trouble with an Imperial Princess.”
Marco sighed and took the axe to the bow of the ship. A wave dashed over him but by now he had had such a drenching he hardly noticed. He raised the axe and brought it down once twice, then a third time on a thick rope that flailed around like some giant tentacle while he attended to the second. Then he dealt with the third and the job was done the tent fly away into the night and the ship was safe.
So too was Marco Polo. At least that was for the three days of foul weather. Then Cocacin recovered enough from her sea sickness to inquire as to why her surrounding were not as royal as those of Mingyu and Marco Polo was back in trouble again.
To Be Continued
with a big cross with Little Siss at it as figurehead isn't?.... "et vogue la galère ... "
( ... anf floating is the boat ... )
... but it could sink ... you'll see ... later ...
and madame Melissa as their trainer...and many rowing slaves !!!
jacksjg89
PROCRASTINATOR
...and many rowing slaves !!!
They are wearing too much.
RacingRodent
Consul
It's a government backed scheme to support loin cloth manufacturers
Or a revival of the legion of decency?
... at the rate they are heaving on those oars in that clip, exhaustion will set in pretty soon .... then what?
RacingRodent
Consul
some grandsons asked that in a friendly way I heardAnd they filmed it with topless rowers?...wow
RacingRodent
Consul
Episode 4 the complications of transporting royal princesses
It should be noted by the wise scholar of life and destiny that some days you just cannot win.
“Your Highness,” Marco Polo bowed low before an incandescent Cocacin, who would have looked rather lovely in the light of two lamps save she had her face contorted in a fury and two bury Mongol guards were waggling their scimitars in Marco’s face, thus spoiling the nicer bits of the view though the glimpses were very nice indeed including a taut tummy and pert chest whose delightfully curving breasts were almost bouncing in unison with the shouted exclamations of outrage from the most dissatisfied Princess.
It was not really helping him focus. In the event he tried thinking of the little Princess in an entirely different manner...which led to a dangerous desire to laugh.
“I want to know how it is acceptable that you lost my Royal property overboard and have confined me to this seething stinking, rat’s funeral parlour of a dungeon at sea?” Cocacin demanded.
“Your Highness, these were meant to be my own state quarters but I have given them up to your own far more worthy personage till such time as we can put in at a sufficiently civilised port to replace your tent with one of equally suitable statue,” Marco tried to explain.
“But the Princess Mingyu is above me, how is that worthy? I am the superior Princess, more closely related to the Great Khan himself!” Snapped Cocacin.
“Indeed and the captain and the crew sleep on or close to the upper deck as does she, putting her on a level with the common sort, while below are the rats and any stowaways that have hidden on this vessel, you yourself however reside at the centre of things in the place of maximum honour rather like the Middle Kingdom,” Marco inwardly congratulated himself on his quick thinking.
“Oh then it is well,” Smiled Cocacin.
“It is not well, how dare you dismiss me to the upper levels with the common crew while that jumped up nobody that second daughter of a third son is allowed the place of maximum honour aboard this vessel?” Raged Mingyu, Her dress was of silk and the shadows played across it as Marco tried to think a way out of this conundrum and not be two distracted by the glimpses of womanly delights through ripples in the fabric.
“Your Highness well knows she is quartered in the place of principal honour, Princess Cocacin on the other is a barbarian who first tried to bring a tent on a ship and is now quartered below only on the basis of her perceived status, a status which is entirely illusory, as your far more perceptive capacities have noticed,” Marco put in.
“You are cunning little weasel,” Mingyu sniffed, “But I like you,” She smiled, “When do we put into port?”
“Soon Your Highness, we need to search out a new tent for our Mongol passengers,” Marco Polo explained.
“Excellent, when we land I shall accompany you, it is too long since I walked on dry land,” Mingyu informed him.
The markets of Malacca straits are many and varied and all teem with a variety of merchants, peddlers, traders, entertainers, priests and magicians…of course they also teem with pirates, cutthroats and thieves and other vermin like swarms of mangy rodents.
As such Marco Polo was glad of the extra muscle provided by Mingyu’s guards as he made his way from the merchants where he had acquired sufficient silks and animals hides and stout poles to make a royal tent for Cocacin to the avenue of seamstresses whom he would need to employ to sew the material into a suitable construction.
He had not anticipated that Mingyu might inspire an attack until he was surrounded by a swarm of armed men.
“Hold off dogs, you threaten a Princess of Mighty China,” Marco Polo warned as his and Mingyu’s men and Mingyu herself drew their weapons.
“Chinese Princesses fetch the biggest ransoms and we are poor men, seize her,” Ordered a wizened old man wearing a skull faced mask. The mob of pirates swarmed forwards. Many dies on the blades of her guardians, several more were spitted or decapitated by Mingyu herself but at last six pirates managed to wrestle her weapons from her and began carrying Mingyu off.
Marco Polo dashed after them as they hurried through the cramped streets and shanties. They dodged between chicken cages, sending feathers and birds and squawking old women flying in all directions. They leaped across several barrows of exotic fruits, sending produce and the angry cries of tradesmen spilling off right and left. They hurried towards the jungle and here at last Marco Polo desperately short of breath caught up with them on the very edge of town.
Two of the pirates turned to face him. He took his old Italian blade and rammed it into the gut of one of them. Then he found himself facing the second, a giant of man. Italian steel was clearly superior to the pot metal the big man was using as the sword he wielded snapped on the second or third stroke. The pirate though was not disconcerted in least, batting Marco’s own sword away and then seizing him, lifting him off his feet and slowly starting to strangle him.
This gave Marco a good view of matters as Mingyu having drawn one of her hairpin daggers finished off a second of her four pirates and seized up his weapon, which could not decide if it were fancy machete or cheap sword. Facing a pirate with an axe she chopped him down and the fourth turned tail and ran.
Then stepping up behind the giant she hamstrung him. As he collapsed still holding Marco, she carefully aimed her blade and then struck off his head. Only then did the great paws release and Marco gratefully swallowed air into his lungs again.
“Well done my man,” Mingyu took hold of Marco’s doublet and lent into say something…it probably was not meant to be “What the…aieeee”
Marco felt the Princess’s hand tighten on him and then he was yanked off his feet. The pair found themselves plunging down a channel slicked with rain water mud and well other things. It was lucky there had been a storm recently as the refuse chute could have been a whole lot more noisome.
Even as it was the sudden dip in the bay was not entirely unwelcome.
Especially when they clambered out of the water and found a spot to rest up Marco realised he could see their ship and when he took off his brightly coloured doublet and shirt was able to use them as signal flags.
“I am all muddy,” Mingyu declared and stripped off to wash herself clean in the sea water. Marco kept himself focused on the ship until he drew attention and the sailors began to turn the vessel and make ponderous way towards them.
“The wind is against them, it will take them a long while to get to us Your Highness,” Marco Polo apologised.
“Oh good,” said Mingyu, “I had been wanting to thank you for my rescue.” She reached up with a hand and drew him down to her lips and then pulled him into the water. The waters of the Malacca Strait are not exactly cold but Mingyu’s body was hot. Buoyant in the water they half floated, half swam about each other.
Each touch sent shivers of anticipation rippling across excited muscles, flexing and contracting with the need for touch, for human contact, for pleasure. Delicate fingers traced a living fire across Marco’s body and all the while Mingyu was kissing him deeply as if she would merge into him, becoming as one flesh. His own hand went into action, finding and exploring the strong muscles of her back, the gentle curve of her buttocks, the taut sweep of her belly and the living breathing mounds of her breasts, so filled with life and potential for life.
Then Mingyu was swimming up him, her ardour burning yet more brightly. As she pushed down his hose from his waste his manhood rose stiffly to great the greatest warmth yet and he realised with a sudden shock and wild joy he was inside her.
“You saved me, now take me,” Mingyu breathed into Marco’s ear and like the waves upon the shore began gently but with irresistible power to ride him.
To Be Continued
It should be noted by the wise scholar of life and destiny that some days you just cannot win.
“Your Highness,” Marco Polo bowed low before an incandescent Cocacin, who would have looked rather lovely in the light of two lamps save she had her face contorted in a fury and two bury Mongol guards were waggling their scimitars in Marco’s face, thus spoiling the nicer bits of the view though the glimpses were very nice indeed including a taut tummy and pert chest whose delightfully curving breasts were almost bouncing in unison with the shouted exclamations of outrage from the most dissatisfied Princess.
It was not really helping him focus. In the event he tried thinking of the little Princess in an entirely different manner...which led to a dangerous desire to laugh.
“I want to know how it is acceptable that you lost my Royal property overboard and have confined me to this seething stinking, rat’s funeral parlour of a dungeon at sea?” Cocacin demanded.
“Your Highness, these were meant to be my own state quarters but I have given them up to your own far more worthy personage till such time as we can put in at a sufficiently civilised port to replace your tent with one of equally suitable statue,” Marco tried to explain.
“But the Princess Mingyu is above me, how is that worthy? I am the superior Princess, more closely related to the Great Khan himself!” Snapped Cocacin.
“Indeed and the captain and the crew sleep on or close to the upper deck as does she, putting her on a level with the common sort, while below are the rats and any stowaways that have hidden on this vessel, you yourself however reside at the centre of things in the place of maximum honour rather like the Middle Kingdom,” Marco inwardly congratulated himself on his quick thinking.
“Oh then it is well,” Smiled Cocacin.
“It is not well, how dare you dismiss me to the upper levels with the common crew while that jumped up nobody that second daughter of a third son is allowed the place of maximum honour aboard this vessel?” Raged Mingyu, Her dress was of silk and the shadows played across it as Marco tried to think a way out of this conundrum and not be two distracted by the glimpses of womanly delights through ripples in the fabric.
“Your Highness well knows she is quartered in the place of principal honour, Princess Cocacin on the other is a barbarian who first tried to bring a tent on a ship and is now quartered below only on the basis of her perceived status, a status which is entirely illusory, as your far more perceptive capacities have noticed,” Marco put in.
“You are cunning little weasel,” Mingyu sniffed, “But I like you,” She smiled, “When do we put into port?”
“Soon Your Highness, we need to search out a new tent for our Mongol passengers,” Marco Polo explained.
“Excellent, when we land I shall accompany you, it is too long since I walked on dry land,” Mingyu informed him.
The markets of Malacca straits are many and varied and all teem with a variety of merchants, peddlers, traders, entertainers, priests and magicians…of course they also teem with pirates, cutthroats and thieves and other vermin like swarms of mangy rodents.
As such Marco Polo was glad of the extra muscle provided by Mingyu’s guards as he made his way from the merchants where he had acquired sufficient silks and animals hides and stout poles to make a royal tent for Cocacin to the avenue of seamstresses whom he would need to employ to sew the material into a suitable construction.
He had not anticipated that Mingyu might inspire an attack until he was surrounded by a swarm of armed men.
“Hold off dogs, you threaten a Princess of Mighty China,” Marco Polo warned as his and Mingyu’s men and Mingyu herself drew their weapons.
“Chinese Princesses fetch the biggest ransoms and we are poor men, seize her,” Ordered a wizened old man wearing a skull faced mask. The mob of pirates swarmed forwards. Many dies on the blades of her guardians, several more were spitted or decapitated by Mingyu herself but at last six pirates managed to wrestle her weapons from her and began carrying Mingyu off.
Marco Polo dashed after them as they hurried through the cramped streets and shanties. They dodged between chicken cages, sending feathers and birds and squawking old women flying in all directions. They leaped across several barrows of exotic fruits, sending produce and the angry cries of tradesmen spilling off right and left. They hurried towards the jungle and here at last Marco Polo desperately short of breath caught up with them on the very edge of town.
Two of the pirates turned to face him. He took his old Italian blade and rammed it into the gut of one of them. Then he found himself facing the second, a giant of man. Italian steel was clearly superior to the pot metal the big man was using as the sword he wielded snapped on the second or third stroke. The pirate though was not disconcerted in least, batting Marco’s own sword away and then seizing him, lifting him off his feet and slowly starting to strangle him.
This gave Marco a good view of matters as Mingyu having drawn one of her hairpin daggers finished off a second of her four pirates and seized up his weapon, which could not decide if it were fancy machete or cheap sword. Facing a pirate with an axe she chopped him down and the fourth turned tail and ran.
Then stepping up behind the giant she hamstrung him. As he collapsed still holding Marco, she carefully aimed her blade and then struck off his head. Only then did the great paws release and Marco gratefully swallowed air into his lungs again.
“Well done my man,” Mingyu took hold of Marco’s doublet and lent into say something…it probably was not meant to be “What the…aieeee”
Marco felt the Princess’s hand tighten on him and then he was yanked off his feet. The pair found themselves plunging down a channel slicked with rain water mud and well other things. It was lucky there had been a storm recently as the refuse chute could have been a whole lot more noisome.
Even as it was the sudden dip in the bay was not entirely unwelcome.
Especially when they clambered out of the water and found a spot to rest up Marco realised he could see their ship and when he took off his brightly coloured doublet and shirt was able to use them as signal flags.
“I am all muddy,” Mingyu declared and stripped off to wash herself clean in the sea water. Marco kept himself focused on the ship until he drew attention and the sailors began to turn the vessel and make ponderous way towards them.
“The wind is against them, it will take them a long while to get to us Your Highness,” Marco Polo apologised.
“Oh good,” said Mingyu, “I had been wanting to thank you for my rescue.” She reached up with a hand and drew him down to her lips and then pulled him into the water. The waters of the Malacca Strait are not exactly cold but Mingyu’s body was hot. Buoyant in the water they half floated, half swam about each other.
Each touch sent shivers of anticipation rippling across excited muscles, flexing and contracting with the need for touch, for human contact, for pleasure. Delicate fingers traced a living fire across Marco’s body and all the while Mingyu was kissing him deeply as if she would merge into him, becoming as one flesh. His own hand went into action, finding and exploring the strong muscles of her back, the gentle curve of her buttocks, the taut sweep of her belly and the living breathing mounds of her breasts, so filled with life and potential for life.
Then Mingyu was swimming up him, her ardour burning yet more brightly. As she pushed down his hose from his waste his manhood rose stiffly to great the greatest warmth yet and he realised with a sudden shock and wild joy he was inside her.
“You saved me, now take me,” Mingyu breathed into Marco’s ear and like the waves upon the shore began gently but with irresistible power to ride him.
To Be Continued
RacingRodent
Consul
Episode 5 Being why involvement in Mongol politics is bad for your health
“Arrgh,” screamed Cocacin as the hot brand settled just below her right nipple.
“Leave her alone you unholy dog or I will…grrrk,” Marco Polo spluttered and turned purple as the pair of burly Mongolian warriors used a length of wood to twist the bow cord around his neck yet tighter.
“Silence Christian dog,” Snarled yet another torturer, “One of you will tell us which of you conspired to murder our beloved Sovereign Baydu?”
“Nonsense you fool, everyone in the whole of Persia know it was Tagachar,” Screamed Mingyu from her inverted position on a rack table that had been angled up against a wall.
“Silence wench,” A torturer struck her, “Tagachar is the loyal servant of Baydu. Stop these lies who I will cut your baby right out of you, don’t think I wouldn’t do it you filthy whore, getting pregnant by a common Frankish dog I should cut his balls off as well.”
Despite the Mongols denials everyone knew the last few years had seen nothing but increasing chaos. No one was quite sure whether Khan Arghum had been murdered or died of natural causes but it was certain that it was Tagachar who was the power behind Baydu whom he had backed after having disposed of the brief Khan Gaykhatu who become embarrassing after Tagachar had propelled him to power. The lives of the companions had been increasingly dangerous ever since they arrived.
“I am not foolish, you are the fool, don’t you realise, haven’t you been listening,” Mingyu cried out, “You precious General Tagachar has fled, your Khan Baydu has fled…arrrrgh,” It was again Mingyu’s turn to scream as the torturer yanked on the handle to one of the drums of a the rack stretching her straining limbs yet further.
He then seized a whip and brutally lashed her belly hips and breasts until weals of blood sprouted. Marco cried out and struggled in his chair but short of breath was helpless to do anything but watch.
“Listen to her, no listen to the castle, no go to the door and call for assistance,” Cocacin called out.
“I…damn you I will prove you all false,” The Spokesman among the torturers proclaimed. He strode to the door and turning the handle flung it open, “Guards, guards,” He called and when there was no answer, “Servants, servants, where are you mangy dogs, a Mongol warrior summons you,” He called again from further away, “Oh they you are I was…” He cut off of suddenly and there was silence, the rest of the torturers looked at each other nervously.
“Hah you were wrong, there is someone there,” Said the returning torturer brightly, he stepped back into the chamber. It was only then that the arrows sprouting from his chest became apparent, then he toppled over.
“I am Garkhan and I come to save my bride, which of you is Cocacin,” Proclaimed yet another loud voice and a tall Mongol Prince strode through the door followed by a flood of yet more burly warriors as the torturers sank to their knees and then prostrated themselves.
“Well not me obviously,” Said Marco, to one of the new arrivals who was eyeing him curiously, “Her Highness Cocacin is over there and Princess Mingyu is the one upside down on the rack, it might be an idea to get them some clothes for proprieties sake.”
“Yes a good idea, you, you and you your cloaks, cover these people,” Garkhan ordered some of his bodyguards, he then went to Cocacin, “Princess Cocacin,” He knelt and pulled out a ring, “Will you marry me?”
“Oh how romantic of course, ha see, mine brought me a ring, so much better than getting me knocked up first and then asking me to marry him don’t you think Mingyu?” Cocacin proclaimed from her torture bed, ignoring the wounds on her flesh and even the smelly cloak as the new set of Mongols beat her torturers into finding the means to release her. For once Mingyu seethed without comment.
Much later and back on ship now headed for distant Egypt and a short crossing by land to where she and Marco Polo could embark for Venice she was more back to her usual self.
“The cheek, the cheek,” Mingyu seethed from her bed to which she had just retired. Marco nodded to a maid who quietly ducked out of the room as he took off his own shirt. “The gall of the woman, did I not save her from those assassins that Tagachar sent?”
“You did,” Marco agreed.
“And the snake cunningly concealed in the bowl of fruit?” Mingyu inquired.
“Indeed, I was terrified for you both,” Marco nodded as solemnly as a man can while taking off his trousers.
“And did I not stop her being poisoned that?” Mingyu asked.
“Well I think that was…” Marco had been about to say ‘because the argument you were having has got to the stage you were throwing things at her again’ but thought better of it, “An astounding example of your quick thinking, why you knocked the very goblet with the poison in right out of her hand.”
“Indeed and she still put on airs and graces and worse…worse did you see that dress, the one at her wedding, quite scandalous!”
“I was too busy looking at the beautiful chief bridesmaid, I really don’t remember what the Ilkhaness wore,” Said Marco.
“Flatterer,” Smiled Mingyu, “Don’t bother putting anything on, I’ll keep you warm.”
Marco hurried to bed, as they kissed he put his hand on the rising belly of his lover, “I worry how we shall explain this?”
“Just tell them we married,” Mingyu said, “If you want we can even hold a ceremony on one of your Churches, I am sure your family is rich enough to put on a good show.”
“Oh yes, it will cost a small fortune but you are worth it but won’t the Khan worry?” Marco fretted.
“Oh don’t worry about him he is over a thousand leagues away and has other concerns,” Mingyu smiled, “We shall be very happy in Venice, you, me and our baby.”
“Good,” Marco did not say anything more as his wife smothered him in kisses. Latter she turned around, not denying him but because they both felt that lying side by side was the safest way to show their love for one another and preserve the baby. With that bond being reforged with steady movements and sighs in synchrony we leave them dear readers. Their journey is almost done…our story is just starting.
“Arrgh,” screamed Cocacin as the hot brand settled just below her right nipple.
“Leave her alone you unholy dog or I will…grrrk,” Marco Polo spluttered and turned purple as the pair of burly Mongolian warriors used a length of wood to twist the bow cord around his neck yet tighter.
“Silence Christian dog,” Snarled yet another torturer, “One of you will tell us which of you conspired to murder our beloved Sovereign Baydu?”
“Nonsense you fool, everyone in the whole of Persia know it was Tagachar,” Screamed Mingyu from her inverted position on a rack table that had been angled up against a wall.
“Silence wench,” A torturer struck her, “Tagachar is the loyal servant of Baydu. Stop these lies who I will cut your baby right out of you, don’t think I wouldn’t do it you filthy whore, getting pregnant by a common Frankish dog I should cut his balls off as well.”
Despite the Mongols denials everyone knew the last few years had seen nothing but increasing chaos. No one was quite sure whether Khan Arghum had been murdered or died of natural causes but it was certain that it was Tagachar who was the power behind Baydu whom he had backed after having disposed of the brief Khan Gaykhatu who become embarrassing after Tagachar had propelled him to power. The lives of the companions had been increasingly dangerous ever since they arrived.
“I am not foolish, you are the fool, don’t you realise, haven’t you been listening,” Mingyu cried out, “You precious General Tagachar has fled, your Khan Baydu has fled…arrrrgh,” It was again Mingyu’s turn to scream as the torturer yanked on the handle to one of the drums of a the rack stretching her straining limbs yet further.
He then seized a whip and brutally lashed her belly hips and breasts until weals of blood sprouted. Marco cried out and struggled in his chair but short of breath was helpless to do anything but watch.
“Listen to her, no listen to the castle, no go to the door and call for assistance,” Cocacin called out.
“I…damn you I will prove you all false,” The Spokesman among the torturers proclaimed. He strode to the door and turning the handle flung it open, “Guards, guards,” He called and when there was no answer, “Servants, servants, where are you mangy dogs, a Mongol warrior summons you,” He called again from further away, “Oh they you are I was…” He cut off of suddenly and there was silence, the rest of the torturers looked at each other nervously.
“Hah you were wrong, there is someone there,” Said the returning torturer brightly, he stepped back into the chamber. It was only then that the arrows sprouting from his chest became apparent, then he toppled over.
“I am Garkhan and I come to save my bride, which of you is Cocacin,” Proclaimed yet another loud voice and a tall Mongol Prince strode through the door followed by a flood of yet more burly warriors as the torturers sank to their knees and then prostrated themselves.
“Well not me obviously,” Said Marco, to one of the new arrivals who was eyeing him curiously, “Her Highness Cocacin is over there and Princess Mingyu is the one upside down on the rack, it might be an idea to get them some clothes for proprieties sake.”
“Yes a good idea, you, you and you your cloaks, cover these people,” Garkhan ordered some of his bodyguards, he then went to Cocacin, “Princess Cocacin,” He knelt and pulled out a ring, “Will you marry me?”
“Oh how romantic of course, ha see, mine brought me a ring, so much better than getting me knocked up first and then asking me to marry him don’t you think Mingyu?” Cocacin proclaimed from her torture bed, ignoring the wounds on her flesh and even the smelly cloak as the new set of Mongols beat her torturers into finding the means to release her. For once Mingyu seethed without comment.
Much later and back on ship now headed for distant Egypt and a short crossing by land to where she and Marco Polo could embark for Venice she was more back to her usual self.
“The cheek, the cheek,” Mingyu seethed from her bed to which she had just retired. Marco nodded to a maid who quietly ducked out of the room as he took off his own shirt. “The gall of the woman, did I not save her from those assassins that Tagachar sent?”
“You did,” Marco agreed.
“And the snake cunningly concealed in the bowl of fruit?” Mingyu inquired.
“Indeed, I was terrified for you both,” Marco nodded as solemnly as a man can while taking off his trousers.
“And did I not stop her being poisoned that?” Mingyu asked.
“Well I think that was…” Marco had been about to say ‘because the argument you were having has got to the stage you were throwing things at her again’ but thought better of it, “An astounding example of your quick thinking, why you knocked the very goblet with the poison in right out of her hand.”
“Indeed and she still put on airs and graces and worse…worse did you see that dress, the one at her wedding, quite scandalous!”
“I was too busy looking at the beautiful chief bridesmaid, I really don’t remember what the Ilkhaness wore,” Said Marco.
“Flatterer,” Smiled Mingyu, “Don’t bother putting anything on, I’ll keep you warm.”
Marco hurried to bed, as they kissed he put his hand on the rising belly of his lover, “I worry how we shall explain this?”
“Just tell them we married,” Mingyu said, “If you want we can even hold a ceremony on one of your Churches, I am sure your family is rich enough to put on a good show.”
“Oh yes, it will cost a small fortune but you are worth it but won’t the Khan worry?” Marco fretted.
“Oh don’t worry about him he is over a thousand leagues away and has other concerns,” Mingyu smiled, “We shall be very happy in Venice, you, me and our baby.”
“Good,” Marco did not say anything more as his wife smothered him in kisses. Latter she turned around, not denying him but because they both felt that lying side by side was the safest way to show their love for one another and preserve the baby. With that bond being reforged with steady movements and sighs in synchrony we leave them dear readers. Their journey is almost done…our story is just starting.