Inga's Rule (illustrated)

by Alpesco

A Serving Girl turns things Upside-down

Inga came into the upper room of the castle without knocking. As eldest daughter of the Baron, I was angry - angry that this servant would dare to walk in on her betters. Before being taken ill, Old Hanna had organized the household. Now Inga, her tall nineteen year-old niece, had taken on that role. This peasant girl seemed to take the honor of serving in the keep as her right. Even as I sat at the window, I was irritated that Inga dared to wear a red skirt, and tight bodice that left her broad shoulders bare, instead of more shapeless peasant attire.

"We don't need to be disturbed now." I said sharply, nodding toward my sister Isolde, who, at twenty two, was younger than me by a year. Our father and older brother were absent, having ridden to battle ten days before, fighting for the Duke against the Lords of Flanders. Only our nineteen year-old young brother, Ralph, remained with us.

"I have to see to the the fire," Inga said, ignoring me as she set down a heavy pannier of firewood. Her long arms were heavy but shapely. "The house servants are busy. I've set them all to scouring out the kitchens. They did a poor job yesterday, so I'm making them do it all again."

I scowled. Even though she wasn't openly rude, this girl carried a permanent air of insolence. Our father had been wrong to give her such authority in the household. Most of the indoor servants were now under her orders, and despite her age, she had them working even harder than her aunt had done. I'd heard that after the first couple of days no one in the kitchens or the lower hall even dreamed of answering her back.

As I watched, Inga picked up a gnarled branch of wood and broke it over her knee. As the nineteen year-old's long arms pressed firmly down, the thick piece of wood bent slightly, then cracked and split, snapping neatly in half. Inga picked up another branch and did the same. This time the branch snapped faster as the tall young woman had measured the amount of force she needed to apply. Her arms pushed down, and with a single loud CRRAACKK, the three inch thick branch snapped like a twig across her well-shaped thigh.

She picked up another, and did it again, and then four times more, each time with a slightly thicker branch. She seemed almost to be enjoying the feel of the thick, seasoned branches breaking and tearing across her thigh, helpless against the power of her strong arms.

"That's enough!" I ordered. "The fire can be finished later."

She cracked a last branch.

"Do what you're told by one of your superiors!" I snapped loudly. I'd never liked Inga. She was far too proud of her low-born good looks. knowing that her tall, dark-haired, figure was an attraction to men.

"My superiors?" Inga stretched to her full height. She was unusually tall - taller than many of the men in the castle, and easily the tallest of all the women. Solon, Captain of the Guard, stood well over six feet tall, but Inga was only a couple of inches shorter than he was. Not only was she tall, she was also big-boned, although she seemed to carry no fat at all, and clearly took pride in her long, narrow waist. I hated it that she looked down on me, a noblewoman, by a good three inches.

Wordlessly she stretched out her long right arm. Then slowly she began to flex it. I held my breath. Her arm wasn't skinny to begin with. It looked firm, strong and capable, but when she tensed it there suddenly appeared a large and growing ball of muscle that swelled and swelled and hardened. Within moments it was more than half as big as her face. I gasped, astounded at just how big and solid that muscle was. I knew many men who didn't possess a bicep anything like that.

Even so, I had to restore my authority. "I don't like your tone!" I said, in my proudest voice. "Remember your place - serving girl. Now go!" I stepped toward her.

But as I advanced, Inga simply held up her long left arm to hold me away from her, her forearm held in front of her like a barrier. Annoyed, I pushed against it, but to my surprise, that single arm brought me to an abrupt halt. Irritated, I pushed more forcefully, both my arms against her one. Still there was no give. This was ridiculous! I now leaned into the arm, using my whole bodyweight. But that long, bare arm was like granite! She just held it up, eighteen inches in front of her - and although I continued to strain and push against it, I just couldn't move it!

Feeling humiliated, I tried harder, applying both of my legs pushing through my braced arms and body as I tried to force her to take even a half step backward. But to my dismay, Inga's lone arm held firm as if it had been carved from stone. Not only did her body not move, her forearm stayed exactly where she had set it , eighteen inches in front of her!

The nineteen year-old gave a mocking smile, raising her unused right arm to brush back her hair as her left, on its own, defeated me. "Who's superior now?" she said. "I don't just sit around all day like you."

With that, the abominable girl jerked her left arm forward. And she did it with so much force that it threw my whole body back! With a gasp of alarm, I found myself hurled backward. I tried to halt myself, but before I could come to a stop, my legs hit the edge of a chair, and I fell back heavily into it.

Seeing me hurled across the chamber, on to my rump, my younger sister, Isolde, leapt forward to grab Inga's arms in hers. But before I could rise to my feet, to think of helping her, the infernal serving-girl simply twisted both of her arms fiercely free.

Isolde gave a sharp cry of pain. The serving girl's arms were so strong that one twisting eruption of power had snapped Isolde's grip inside a second. Inga's arms were free, and my sister was bent over, nursing her own hurting, damaged arms, looking stunned and shocked.

"My arms! You little bitch!" My sister flared into sudden rage. "You nearly broke them!” She launched a rush toward the tall nineteen year-old, but Inga's long left arm just stretched out and caught her around the waist. Then it hurled her easily backward. The move seemed easy for the tall young woman, only her arm semed to move. But the raw power in that arm was so great that it hurled my sister right back across the room. Isolde flew backward as if she had been pulled by a rope around her waist that had been tied to a mill stone.

"Ouuuggghhh!" she cried, as her body crashed heavily into the hard stone wall, impacting with a loud thud. She hit with such force that her whole body rebounded forward again as she toppled, face-down, on to the rush-matted floor.

I stared, open-mouthed, rising slowly to my feet as my sister lay there.

"What's all this noise?" The stairway door opened, and through it strode our young brother, Ralph. I gave a triumphant smile. Now the tables would be turned. Ralph was at least as tall as Inga, the same age as her, and most important, he was a man. He would punish the rebellious servant girl. And later she would receive a proper whipping for daring to strike her betters.

"Ralph!" I cried. "This girl has gone mad and attacked us. Restrain her! She needs to be tied up and thrown in a cell to await a whipping!"

"There will be no more whippings," Inga said suddenly. "I have news which I had not thought fit to tell you until now. The battle in which your father and your brother fought has been lost. The Duke's army is no more."

"She must be lying!" I said in shock. "Stop her!"

"It is no lie," Inga sneered. "Messengers brought the news at noon. Your father and brother are lost or captured. Your power is broken. I had been trying to make up my mind what to do. But your arrogance is going to cost you a heavy price. I have decided that instead of waiting for the Lord of Flanders' men to come and claim this keep, I will take hold of it myself. I now lay claim to this castle and its lands in the right of the Duke of Flanders."

"Are you mad?" Ralph said. "You're just a serving girl!"

"Perhaps, but it is said that my ancestors once ruled these lands. Now, I shall take back part of what they once held."

"The girl is mad!" The outraged Ralph surged forward to grab her. But to his horror, he discovered that she was considerably stronger than he expected. Inga planted her long legs two feet apart, and brought him to a halt. She gave a brief smile at the look of shock upon his face as she simply stopped him dead. Then her sleekly-muscled arms coiled around his body, clamping his two arms firmly to his sides. Ralph may have been a nobleman, training for knighthood, but he discovered suddenly that he was unable to move! Inga's long, powerful arms held him tight.

I could hardly believe what I was seeing! I watched Ralph struggle to break free of her grip. He fought to release his trapped arms, but it was no use. The upstart serving girl was just too strong! She smirked in triumph as her long, solid arms tightened their grip around his body, his arms and waist bending inward under their pressure. I was appalled. Our tall young brother simply couldn't break the grip of Inga's powerful arms! It was like a nightmare. He squirmed and struggled impotently. I would never have believed that anything like this was possible, but this nineteen year-old girl seemed to be a lot stronger than our own brother!

Inga gave a contemptuous sneer. Then I heard Ralph groan as her shockingly powerful arms tightened their grip even more. And as he groaned his struggles seemed to weaken. Why I hadn't noticed before how strong Inga was? But surely a man must be able to overpower her? That was what i had been taught. But here, in front of me, my brother was having the ability to resist crushed out of him. I gasped as I realized that he was now completely unable to move!

"Ralph!" I cried in alarm, urging him to fight harder.

But Inga simply straightened her body while her powerful grip held firm. I gasped again as the stretching of her body lifted my brother's feet right up off the ground! He gave a long, deep groan as Inga's grip held firm, his whole bodyweight now supported by her strong arms linked about his waist!

"Stop!" he moaned.

I was appalled. "Fight her!" I yelled.

Inga's eyes narrowed and, with a simple twist of her arms, she swung my brother's body right round into the horizontal in front of her, turning him like the sails of a windmill in her powerful grip!

"Inga!" I gasped, barely able to believe that this girl was so strong! Her long, thick arms were still clamped about Ralph's arms and body - but now they were carrying his whole body weight, held on his side! Ralph gave a bellow of pain and dismay as he struggled to escape this new, far more uncomfortable hold. But the servant girl's arms were like oak, holding him imprisoned in a grip of iron as his body began to droop down on either side.

I looked at Inga's face, expecting to see her straining with the effort of bearing this weight, and getting ready to set him down. But to my horror Inga was actually smiling, seeming thoroughly pleased with herself as she looked down at the vainly struggling figure clamped in her arms.

"Ralph!" I shouted again, but he barely seemed to hear. His face was grim and red. His eyes bulged and his head began to shake from side to side. Unlike Inga, he seemed to be suffering badly, his body being punished by the severe pressure that Inga's powerful arms were relentlessly applying.

"You see, I'm quite strong really," Inga said with a wicked grin.

To my dismay I noticed that Inga's arms were still tightening their brutal grip around his body, the solid muscles tensing and hardening. How strong was this girl? Her body arched backward as her powerful arms squeezed even more fiercely, constricting with appalling force. Ralph gurgled and choked. He began coughing and then gasping for air. After a few more moments, he fell limp and still.

Isolde and I were dumbstruck. We could barely believe what we had witnessed as this powerful girl continued to hold our unconscious brother in her tightening grip. After a moment more, she allowed her arms to relax. Unclamping her arms, she let him spill to the floor at her feet. There he lay, completely still, on the rush-matted floor. Inga's arms had constricted him into unconsciousness!

The nineteen year-old looked down at him and stretched. "He's so weak - like all of you privileged bloodsuckers. He couldn't hope to overpower me. My arms would rip him apart."

"Will he be all right?" my sister asked.

Inga gave a nod. "I've just put him out cold. I've done that to a lot of unruly cowherds in my nineteen years. A nobleman is far easier. And now that I've subdued him, I can do this..." She squatted down beside him, slid her arms beneath his body, and then straightened her long legs. To our surprise she lifted Ralph right up off the floor, cradled in her arms, as she stood erect. I gasped. She held the limp body of our young brother as easily in her arms as if she had been carrying one of the smaller village children! She turned in a complete circle displaying his limp and floppy body.

"You're so strong!" Isolde gasped, her eyes widening.

"I've always been strong." Inga, balanced our brother's weight easily in her arms. "Even at ten, I could beat village boys three years older than me, and as I've grown, I've made sure that my strength has more than kept pace."

We continued to stare, astonished, as the nineteen year-old carried Ralph across to a ledge on the far side of the chamber and laid him down there, five feet above the floor.

"She's stronger than our cousin Erkhard!" Isolde whispered, her eyes widening. "He tried to carry Ralph like that, six weeks ago - but he dropped him!"

"What do you think you are going to do now?" I asked.

"I told you. I'm taking command of the castle."

"How can you take this castle? You have no soldiers. You're a peasant. No one will obey you!"

"All the servants obey me already,” Inga said. “The people hate you, and now that I've taken command, most of the soldiers who are left will obey me too."

The girl's scornful attitude drove me into a red hot fury. "You'll never be in command!" I ran up to her and grabbed her by the collar, seeing Isolde come forward with me. "You're just a dirty, stinking peasant!"

I saw Inga scowl at that, and for a second I was glad. Then her long right arm suddenly began to move. Less than a heartbeat later, I felt my head twist violently around as the back of her hand crashed into the right side of my face. My whole body was flung sideways and back as the blow struck with astonishing force! A shattering wave of pain blazed across the right side of my face, coursing through my head and neck. I gave a scream of shock and agony, not yet realising what had hit me, as that one terrible blow hurled me fiercely into the wall. I couldn't believe the intensity of the pain and the force with which I'd been hit.

I had barely begun to take in the magnitude of the pain, when Inga's arm swung powerully back to deal out the same to my younger sister. I heard the loud, sharp crack of the impact as her hand struck Isolde's cheek, then the shocked, despairing scream of agony as the full force of Inga's blow drove itself home. The long scream ended in the sound of her body thudding heavily into the hard stone wall. It was hard to believe that it had been driven there by Inga's one, powerful strike.

"Kill her!" I screamed. Enraged beyond belief, we ran at her together...

But again Inga's big arm moved. And it moved so fast - striking with awesome speed and frightening force. Two more, appallingly hard slaps tore into us, each even heavier and more agonizingly painful than the first. Those two terrible blows sent both of us crashing to the floor.

We were both sobbing now, uncontrollably, clinging to each other for support and howling with the pain. That was the worst of it. The level of the pain that tore through us was incredible! I'd never felt anything like it! Lying there on the floor I gave out a howl of anguish, feeling the tears flood from my eyes. How could one girl hurt us both so badly, and with such speed? As Inga took a step toward us, I began to squirm and wriggle hastily away. That was when I realized that I was really terrified that this powerful girl would hit me again! Inga was horribly strong - and she was standing above us completely unhurt. I realized that she was quite capable of handing out even more of the same. It was galling. It was awful to admit - but there was nothing we could do. She was just too powerful! The two of us together were no match at all for her dominant strength.

"Please don't hit us any more, Inga," I heard myself begging. "Please!"

"That depends on the way you behave,” Inga said calmly. “Now both of you will do exactly as I say, or what you've just tasted will just be the beginning of the punishment I choose to hand out to you. I can slap so hard you wouldn't believe it. Now decide. What are you going to do?"

I could almost have bitten off my own tongue rather than admit my disgrace at kow-towing to a peasant girl, but I was too fearful of another slap to do anything but say; "We'll do whatever you say."

"You'll do whatever I say, Lady Inga," the tall young woman said.

"Whatever you say, Lady Inga," I sobbed, trying to subdue the agonizing pain still burning through me. I could feel the bruises rising all across my face, and see the blistering dark red welts on my sister's cheeks, where Inga's hand had struck.

"You don't look so pretty now," Inga said, looking at us both. "I can take your pasty looks away with a couple of good hard blows, and I can still hand out a dozen more, harder than those, if I feel like it. There weren't many people in our village who didn't give me a LOT of respect." She held up the one right hand that had subdued both of us. It was completely unmarked and unharmed as if she'd just been combing her hair with it all day.

There was a sudden brisk knock at the door, and then a large man in a brown leather surcoat walked in.

"Gorlaen!" I cried in relief. It was the castle Steward, one of the few men in all the castle we could still trust. "Inga's gone mad!" I sobbed. "She attacked us. Stop her!"

"She did what?" Gorlaen roared, looking at my damaged face. "I always said that this girl was an ungrateful wretch. The Master will see the skin whipped off her back for this!"

"The Master won't be back any time soon," Inga said insolently. "I have claimed the Lordship of this castle in the name of..."

"No more!" Gorlaen roared. With two strides he reached the tall peasant girl and threw his mailed arms around her, twisting them up in front of her, to meet behind her neck in a steely grip.

It seemed for a moment that he had her firmly secured, but then Inga raised her big arms high above her head. And as she did so, the movement of her powerful shoulders forced his grip to break behind her neck. I gasped out loud, as, with a powerful downward wrench, she broke the grip of his arms about her entirely! Gorlaen gave a startled yelp of pain as the unexpected power-move broke her free. Then, as he took a surprised step backward, Inga swung around to face him, frowning as her long arm drew back...

KRACCCCK!

The blow was so fast! It hit Gorlaen in mid-face. And this was no slap, nor even the light, girlish blow he probably expected. The power that Inga was able to put into that single punch was shocking. The noise of the impact filled the room. Gorlaen's face was hurled around through a hundred and eighty degrees - distorting massively as the blow impacted. I saw a shower of blood spurt from his shattered nose to run down his tunic. He staggered backward, roaring in pain and visibly injured. But that wasn't the end by a long shot. Inga had a lot more anger to unleash. Twisting her upper body into her blows, the serving girl's big arms struck again and again, pounding their stunned target with shocking force.

KROOOMM! KRUMMMPP! KROOOMMM! KROOOMMM! KRAMMMMM! Even the sound of the blows was brutal. The noise was shocking, revealing the power this tall young woman could unleash.

Gorlaen doubled over, his whole body seeming broken as the devastating blows sent him crashing into the tapestry-covered wall. Inga watched him for a second. He remained on his feet, propped up against the wall, but he could barely move. The functionary seemed to be in shock as blood poured from his nose and mouth. Another stream trickled into a swollen eye from a deep cut on his forehead. Seeming to make up her mind, Inga took two steps forward.

KARROOOMM! Her big right arm struck again! The Steward's face seemed to crumple as her solid fist drove into it. His legs buckled beneath him as, to my horror, he slumped to the floor. And Gorlaen just lay there on the floor groaning, totally unprepared for the fury and power that the nineteen year-old could unleash. I had never expected Inga to defeat him so easily and completely. She stood still, breathing hard, her powerful fists clenched, as if ready to deal out more if necessary. Gorlaen was clearly badly hurt.

"Don't think you can threaten me!" Inga said in a steel cold voice. She exposed a long, sturdy arm and flexed it. “I've beaten men much bigger than you into whimpering lumps of jelly.”

"I'm sorry!" he mumbled, spitting out two teeth and a mouthful of blood as he did so.

"Don't ever dare to disobey me again!" she said. "Now you two..." She walked over to the table and wrote out a scrip of parchment. "You will sign this paper, ceding control of the castle to me."

"I can't..." I sobbed.

Inga flattened her hand.

"All right!" I nodded quickly. Castle or no castle, I did not want to feel the force of Inga's hand again. If she could turn our steward into a bleeding pulp and still be unmarked, I had no chance. My hand shaking, I signed the document. So did Isolde. It probably wasn't legal anyway.

Taking the paper, Inga strode to the door and opened it. "Odo! Rothgar!" she called out, her powerful voice echoing down the stairway.

A few moments later two of our serving men entered. “Yes, mistress,” they said.

"This castle is now entirely under my authority," she told them, "held in trust for the true Lord of Flanders. The steward Gorlaen is dismissed. The children of the old lord will be held in these rooms until I have decided what will happen to them." She pointed to the body on the floor. "Take him downstairs to the cell near the weapon store. He's to remain locked up there until I give further orders."

"You mustn't," I said.

But to my horror, the servants ignored me, picking up the body and preparing to take it from the room.

"Don't speak again!" Inga looked at me with intent. And I dared not say a word. "Do as I've said," she commanded the men.

The servitors bowed and did as she ordered. They were already more used to obeying Inga than they were us, and they looked happier to do so.

Only an hour ago our whole world had been secure. Now my brother was lying unconscious on a stone slab, Steward Gorlaen was being carried to a cell, my sister and I were beaten and cowed, and the castle was, for the moment, in the hands of a serving girl. However long it lasted, and hopefully it would not last more than a few hours, the new rule of Inga had begun.