It was common knowledge that almost every day in the afternoon, Carlotta, a few ladies-in-waiting and a handful of male attendants went riding for exercise in the woods near the King's court. They would often be away for two or even three hours, cutting across the hillocks and hollows until the brush and trees became too thick for further progress. Sometimes they would descend from their mounts and continue their promenade on foot a short time-all dependent on Carlotta's whim of the moment.
Cesare had the movements of the little band watched for a few days while he lingered on in the hospitality of Louis-who was somewhat embarrassed that his end of the bargain had not been fulfilled, through no fault of his own.
During the mornings, Cesare himself would ride discreetly out into the forest with a few of his men to explore, to scout out the ground on which he was going to carry out his plan-the rape of Carlotta.
At the beginning of an afternoon a few days after the princess's curt reply to Cesare's entreaty to make up her mind, the Duke and some twenty of his men rode out into the forest. In a clearing not far from the spot where Carlotta and her company usually began their jaunts, they all changed into a motley collection of clothing such as might well be worn by the bands of outlaws which infested the forests farther to the south. Several of the band then rode back to the forest outskirts and posted themselves to watch the approach of the princess.
Cesare had not long to wait before the first of the lookouts raced back to report the entry of Carlotta into the wood at a certain point.
For the next two hours the Duke and his men silently shadowed the unsuspecting party from the court. They kept well in the wings, only the lookouts keeping the party in sight. The laughs of the women would filter through the leaves and the sunlight every now and again, whetting the appetites of the stalkers who were soon going to enjoy their bodies.
A light breeze rustled through the foliage, conveniently covering the soft swishings of the horses, trampling through the grass and leaves. Nobody in the Duke's band spoke, communication being made simply through signs. The horses had been muzzled.
Deeper into the deserted forest the two bands made their way. Sometimes, from a ridge, they would have a view of the trees stretching out solidly in a great plain before them, at others they were almost enmeshed in a web of leaves and creepers as they advanced.
It was late in the afternoon and the sun was well down in the sky when a lookout came trotting gently back to report that Carlotta and her band had reached a spot near some rocks and had dismounted to pick some flowers.
At a sign from Cesare, his men donned rough masks of sacking which they had made themselves. They dismounted, unhitched bows and arrows from their horses, hobbled the animals and began to creep through the brush toward the spot indicated by the lookout.
They moved slowly, crouching, making use of every available cover, avoiding twigs with mathematical determination. As the sound of voices whispered through, they began to fan out, to surround the unsuspecting flower-pickers.
The wall of foliage became slighter and slighter, until Cesare, slipping slowly from tree to tree, could see the white garments of the women through the spaces in the low-hanging branches. He crouched lower and advanced a step at a time until the whole scene was clear to him. He stopped, a man on either side of him, and listened. There was no sound from his men, invisibly surrounding the small, rocky clearing.
The women, buxom wenches, were laughing and taking, as they helped. The princess gather her blooms. The princess, herself, was in a gay mood which, for the moment, chased the haughtiness from her face, leaving only the tilt of her features to suggest her pride, her disdain of lesser mortals who thought themselves as good as herself.
Around the women the male attendants- less than a dozen of them-idled and wandered and exchanged a few words with each other.
Such a blissful, sylvan scene, Cesare thought with a grim inward chuckle. What a shock was in store for them. He watched Carlotta, laughing, unaware, bending to the ground. His lips curled in desire and revenge. He'd soon take that haughtiness from her, he'd soon debase her so that she couldn't lift her head again with that proud tilt. He'd provide the French Court and Society with the scandal of the decade- at Carlotta's expense. He'd have her haughty, inaccessible cunt so filled with prick that she'd never be able to close her legs again.
He straightened his bow in front of him, silently fitted an arrow. The two men at his sides followed suit. He took aim, slowly. He gave a sharp, piercing whistle and let fly. His arrow slashed straight through the neck of one of the men-at-arms. The man uttered a strangled, coughing cry and staggered to his knees before falling flat on his face.
The sunlight of the clearing was suddenly crisscrossed with a hail of arrows. All around the horrified women, their escorts crumpled up and ceased to exist. The attendants had no chance to escape. A few managed, pathetically, to draw their swords and start uncertainly toward the woods at their nearest point. They never got as far as. the first thickness of foliage.
In the space of a few minutes the ground was littered with the still bodies of the dead. The women had gathered around Carlotta and were cringing in terror. The forest around them had relapsed into a temporary silence.
Cesare smiled his satisfaction and raised his bow once again. His arrow pierced the clothing of one of the ladies-in-waiting, stabbing through the hem of her dress and pinning it to the ground. There was a guffaw of laughter from his men on all sides at the sign-and then they moved into the clearing, a sinister-looking bunch with their rough masks.
Some of the women screamed as they were seized by the men. Their screams were stifled with rough and ruthless hands. Their clothes were torn from them, their eyes blindfolded with strips from their own undergarments.
Overcome with horror and a helpless indignation, some of the women struggled desperately, others yielded, sobbing and pleading for mercy.
Cesare watched while Carlotta was stripped. She was weeping, but more in rage and shame than fear. During her manhandling she continuously threatened and cursed the men who were denuding her. Her clothes were in rags by the time her captors succeeded in getting them off her and she stood between them, trying to cover breasts and loins at the same time.
Cesare's heart began pumping faster as they blindfolded her. She was small and slim, with a sinuous, perfectly proportioned body. Her breasts were not large, but they were high and firm with a luxurious curve which made him itch to run his hand slowly, gently around it; her hips were well-molded with a thrust of flesh on the peak of the bones; her legs were slim and rounded into light curves of muscle.
A delicate morsel, he thought, as his men began to march her toward the point where he still stood in the shelter of the surrounding bushes. If I can't have her legally, I'm sure I'll lose little by having her against her will. She'll still be warm, juicy flesh and blood. Her hips will still yield under mine, her breasts will still press hard against my flesh, her thighs will still ache from being spread so wide, her passage will still grow wet in spite of herself- and her hauteur. He clacked his tongue in satisfaction at the rape of her dignity, her reputation.
The strange trio had reached him while the thoughts wafted through his head. Close up she was more perfect than ever. He could see the moisture on her skin — the sweat of fear. He could make out the light down on parts of her body, a mole beneath her left breast, the puckered, corrugated skin around the base of her nipple, the slight quiver of her thighs as she approached.
He made a sign to his men and took her by the arms as they released her. Nobody spoke, no voices were to leave traces in her memory. With a wave, Cesare dismissed the men back to the clearing where the rest of his band were drawing lots for the order of ravishing the other women.
Left alone with her, he marched her in front of him, holding a slim bicep in each hand, away from the clearing.
She had a slim, straight back, a firm curve to her spine. The narrow waist rounded out into a fleshy dome of bottom which quivered sinuously as she walked. Her buttocks were like the heads on columns, rounded, well-fitting from the well-shaped, classical thighs. He put one hand down against her buttocks as she walked and the brushing of them, smooth as eggs, made his hand tingle, brought his penis crushing up inside his clothing, giving it that solid, blood-filled ache which only intercourse would relieve.
“Whoever you are I warn you you'll lose your head for this,” she snapped suddenly, with a choke in her
