Other Tales: Stories from The Ballad of Gregoire Darcy

by Marsha Altman

  He came at her first. He was raised a fencer, fighting traditionally, with one hand behind his back, standing mostly sideways and jutting forward. Georgiana fought entirely differently, facing forward before quickly moving out of his way. He realized he was not dealing with an enemy who would move only straight-on like a fencing opponent – quickly enough to block her blade with his to prevent his own quick demise. They stood locked for a moment, as the two blades and their masters tested their strengths against each other before pulling away. The blades themselves were too evenly matched. It would depend on the skill of the fighters.

  The marquis was quick to alter his assault, cutting at his side, where she now stood. Instead of blocking with her sword as a traditional swordsman would, she ducked beneath him and swept a foot under his, knocking him to the ground. She jumped on top of him, but had to side-swipe off to avoid his rapier cutting off her feet.

  She was faster, he was stronger, but they seemed fairly evenly-matched. Audley recalled that they had fought before – and it had clearly been a tie, for him to limp away and her to limp away. At the time, neither had been armed like this, for he had not yet heard of the Wolf having a sword in any of the descriptions.

  “Inspector!” Lady Littlefield whispered insistently next to him.

  “What is it?” he said without taking his eyes off the fight as the marquis poked, struck, and swung – and missed every time. She was baiting him, and he knew it.

  “Do you want me to free your hands?”

  Audley leaned back, and noticed she had undone her own bindings, and the guards were too involved in the spectacle to notice. “Yes. How did you do that?”

  “She taught me. In case something like this came up. I thought she was being silly at the time – ”

  “Right, of course.” What good was he? He couldn’t even escape the rope holding his hands, and the tiny heiress beside him could! She was so deft at it she quickly loosened the knot enough for him to also slip free. “Don’t move yet.” He glanced at the pistol the marquis had discarded, the closest weapon to him not more than five feet away. But he was distracted by the shuffling and noises of the fight.

  The marquis had backed Georgiana to a tree, and her defense was not to block with her sword, but her shoe. She raised her foot and caught his blade in its reinforced metal groove between the two stilts, stamping down so his rapier was lowered. She swung her sword, but he caught her wrist with his other hand.

  His hands are too big! He’ll crush her! “Georgiana!” Audley cried out without thinking. A guard came forward, only to be cut down from behind as Brian emerged from the woods, joining the two kneeling prisoners. No one got in his way.

  “Are you going to help her?” Audley pleaded.

  “I tried,” Brian said through his mask. “I spent hours trying to talk her out of this. But this is her fight and it must be respected.”

  “So you would watch her die?” Audley said, keeping his eyes mostly on the fight.

  “I don’t think she will,” Maddox said simply.

  Georgiana had broken the crushing hold the marquis had on her wrist, and seemed to be in genuine pain from it, but he had not broken his sword free from beneath her sandal, either. Finally she spit in his face, which sent him back far enough for her to free her other hand and deck him with her fist. The blow landed, and he staggered back, withdrawing, and taking his blade with him, which he flailed in front of him to keep her away. She somersaulted away, hitting him again in the head with her foot while still on her hands, before landing behind and to his right. Their recovery time was the same; both wounded and breathing heavily, they touched blades once again. The marquis moved faster now, his fury growing, while her attacks became more aggressive, with fewer parries and more assaults. The blades met with such force that they seemed to draw sparks of light against the flickering torchlight.

  He stabbed again and again for her chest, and every time was rebuffed by either evasion or a straight parry. Each slice of hers, meant to take some significant part of him off instead of stab him, was similarly caught just in time. The marquis suddenly switched his stance – with the intent to throw her off – and swung from above, to come down on her head like she had been trying to do to him.

  Fortunately, she caught his thin rapier blade in that groove between her blade and the prong on the handle, and its purpose was revealed as a twist of her wrist snapped the marquis’s blade right off, causing it to fall harmlessly to the ground.

  The marquis had his back to Audley and the others, so they did not see him draw his tiny gun, only heard the pistol shot and watched as it struck her in the chest. She tried to twist away from it, but the small trickle of blood as she dropped to her knees, clutching her side with her left hand and her sword in her right, indicated that she had not escaped in time.

  “Georgiana!” It was hard to tell whose voice it came from first – Audley’s, Lady Littlefield’s, or Brian Maddox’s.

  There was no time. Georgiana knelt in front of her opponent, quivering in pain, her head dropped to hide her face. The marquis bent down luxuriously, putting his tiny, formerly-hidden pistol to her head. “And now the life of the Wolf ends.”

  “Yes,” she said, suddenly raising her eyes. “But you’re the wolf.”

  With her right arm, she raised her blade in an upward cut. Its effect did not become apparent until the head of the Marquis de Maret slid neatly and silently off his shoulders, and the hole it left erupted in a gushing fountain of blood.

  Audley went for the pistol nearest to him. Brian got Lady Littlefield up as they both raced to the fighters, only to stop short at the sight of the approaching hoards of confused bandits who were watching their leader’s limp body slumped backwards onto the ground, next to his head.

  “Halt!” Audley shouted, holding up the pistol and swinging it around. “I am Inspector Audley of the City of Paris and the Crown! I have legal authority here!” He had managed to quickly grab their hesitant attention. “Go now, and you will not be prosecuted for any of your doings! Or stay, and be arrested or possibly killed. Honestly, I do not care which. Do you wish to sit in irons for the marquis?”

  The answer was apparently not. The men turned and scattered in all directions, some staying to gape for an extra second before doing so.

  When the three of them turned to see what the men were staring at, they noticed that Georgiana had stood up and re-sheathed her sword over her shoulder. Her hand was bleeding, but she did not appear in any great pain. Instead she reached under her tunic and unbuckled something. A hidden piece of armor fell to the ground, with a bullet still lodged in it. She stepped away from the body and joined them, her limbs still shaking; her expression numb.

  It took every ounce of resistance in Audley’s body to not run to her and let her collapse in his arms, as he knew she so dearly wished to do. Brian, removing his facial armor, could not hold her either. It was Heather Littlefield who embraced her, and it was not clear who was sobbing.

  “Georgiana,” Audley said. “Where are you hurt?”

  She separated from Lady Littlefield and held up her hand, which was bleeding, but not badly. He took it in his hands – so small, yet so unmerciful. “The bullet grazed it when I turned,” she said. “That was the blood you saw. He only hit my armor, but I wanted him to think he hit me.”

  He was not sure he heard it all, so distracted by having her hand in his. “Does it hurt?”

  “It stings like hell.”

  “Jorgi-chan,” Brian said, removing one of his sashes and offering it to Audley to wrap around her wound, “Yokatta,” (You did well) He bowed to her. Tiredly, she returned the stiff bow, not a woman’s curtsey.

  “Gomen nasai.” (Thank you) It was with great effort that she straightened up again. Her hair and brow were soaked with sweat, but she was shivering. It was the coldest part of the night, and now that she had stopped moving, the water would be drying on her and cooling her down.

  Audley removed his coat and p
ut it around her shoulders. “Here.”

  Georgiana, despite having accomplished her goal, did not seem to have her full faculties. Maybe it was the victory that stunned her, or the slaughter that it had required. “I – think I’ve missed some lessons.”

  “Yes,” Heather laughed, her voice also exhausted, but in a different way. “I’ll help you catch up.”

  “What about the marquis?” Audley had to ask. There was, after all, his body, and the additional sniper’s body, and three heads.

  “Nanito omoimasuka, Maddox ojisan?” (What do you think, Uncle Maddox?) Georgiana said. “Ima, kangaerini tsukare sugirudesu.” (I’m too tired to think.)

  “Jibun jishin, ookamiwa karera o tabetara, iindayo!” (Personally, I think they should be left to the wolves,) Brian replied, removing his massive helmet. “But one must honor his enemies.”

  “English or French will do,” Audley said.

  Brian went over to the den entrance and rifled through a bag of the marquis’s supplies, retrieving two shovels – perhaps intended to bury the Wolf. “Do you remember how we buried Miyoshi? In the book?”

  Audley blinked. “I can barely think straight, Mr. Maddox. No, I can’t remember.”

  “Well, take a shovel and follow my example.”

  Slowly, the two men collected both of the bodies and all of the heads in two separate piles and dug up enough dirt to neatly cover them, at least so they weren’t visible, beyond being obvious burial mounds. Georgiana took one of the candles from the cave and put it at the marquis’s makeshift grave. Heather silently followed and marked the other one; that of the rifleman meant to kill to the Wolf.

  Brian put his hands together, bowed his head and said, “Namu Amida butsu. Namu Amida butsu. Namu Amida butsu.” Georgiana did the same, silently. Audley had no hat to remove, so he stood quietly beside Heather in silent prayer.

  The moment passed, and it grew colder. “Let’s go,” Georgiana announced, picking up her metal claws and tying them to her cloth belt.

  “What about – ” Audley felt compelled to mention something. “The wolves will get at them.”

  “Then let them,” she said, “if they’ll eat their own.”

  ~~~

  The sky was beginning to lighten as they approached the edge of the woods, turning from black to increasingly lighter shades of blue. Maddox made Georgiana open her hand. “The bleeding has stopped, but you still need to wash it as soon as possible.”

  “You sound like Uncle Maddox.”

  “Because he’s my brother and he’s a doctor,” he said. “And if he were here, he wouldn’t shut up about it.”

  “I’ll go wash it in the stream now,” Georgiana said. “Uncle Brian, can you take Heather back to school? It would be easier for her to be there when they wake.”

  “And you? The inspector will take you home?” he huffed. His disapproval was obvious.

  A proper Englishman after all, Audley thought.

  “Anatawa kare o ai shiteimesuka?” (Do you love him?) Brian asked.

  “Anata to nani o surun?” (What does it matter to you?)

  “Taihen kotodayo. Anata wa ore no mei desu.”(It matters everything to me. You are my niece.)

  “Don’t you love being included in these conversations?” Audley said to Heather Littlefield.

  “Absolutely,” she said with a soft smile.

  “Jibun no meiyo no mamoru no tame ni anata no tetsudai wa hitsuyouga nai,” Georgie said. (I don’t need your help defending my honor.)

  Maddox sighed. “You would never listen to reason. Join me for dinner tonight. I should probably leave town before I make myself even more suspicious.”

  “If they see you like that, I don’t think it will be possible,” Audley said, referring to his armor. He turned to Georgiana. “I’ll help hide some of the ... evidence,” he said, gesturing in the direction of the wolf head and hide she was carrying.

  “Not exactly your job, Inspector Audley.”

  “I know. Amazing how odd a little country air can make a city man,” he said with a smile, and Brian escorted Lady Littlefield home, his red armor disappearing in the distance. It was too early for anyone to be awake – including them. A heaviness fell on Audley, as if the growing daylight and morning mist was pushing down on his shoulders. He looked at Georgiana, and saw the pure exhaustion on her face. All things considered ... “Do you want to wash up?”

  She knelt by the stream, and very carefully, and almost systematically, scrubbed the war paint off her face until it was wiped as clean she could get it. She unwrapped her hand and dipped it back in the water, letting it flow over the wound.

  Audley undid his cravat, which was at least clean of everything but sweat, and knelt beside her, tenderly taking her hand and rewrapping it. “It doesn’t look serious.”

  “I’ve had worse. I was lucky.”

  “How did you know to put armor on?”

  She smiled. “I just didn’t want to get hit in that spot again. Once was enough. That spot was the only one covered – incredible luck.”

  “Once?”

  “The woods of English are filled with dangerous bandits,” Georgiana said, and he believed her. She also didn’t seem up to a long story at the moment.

  “You are a very lucky woman,” Audley said, fighting the urge to run his hand down her arm. “What about – ”

  “I used ink,” she said, referring to what appeared to be blue tribal tattoos – two rings around her wrists and one ring above each ankle. “It was all I could find in blue. It’ll take a few weeks to fade.”

  “So you did do this before.”

  “The full costume, only once,” she said. “When I fought that bandit in England. He wasn’t really a bandit. He just acted like one and that was enough.” She stood up, but was too shaky, and he instinctively caught and steadied her. “I just need to sit – for a short while.”

  “So do I,” he admitted. He sat down with his back against a tree, still far enough in the forest to not be seen from the road. To his surprise, she hesitated only a moment before leaning back against him, resting her head on his shoulder and letting him put his arms around her.

  “Do you mind?” she whispered.

  “Not in the least,” he said. “But you probably already knew that.”

  She smiled. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it. He looked down at her. “Are your feet cold?”

  “To be honest? Freezing.” She sat up (to his great displeasure) and pulled over the wolf hide, and removed a dagger from one of its sewn-in pockets, and used it to slice the hide away from the head, making a fur blanket, which she placed over herself. It essentially covered him as well when she leaned back into her established spot. “There.”

  He just wanted to stay in this position forever. He didn’t know why she chose this moment to be tender again and he didn’t care. So little of his mind remained awake to think. “I love you.”

  “I know.”

  “Does it have to end?”

  She snuggled against him. “Not right now.”

  For the moment, that was enough.

  ~~~

  Robert Audley awoke to full sunlight, shaded only by the tree covering. His neck and back hurt from leaning against a hard tree trunk, his head rang from all of the abuse, and he was soaked from the morning dew. Nonetheless, the warm body in his arms made all of that irrelevant. He was content to stay where he was.

  Georgiana, by all appearances, had succeeded in largely curling up beneath the makeshift blanket, insufficient as it was as a reasonably-sized covering. She’s so small, he thought. He could barely bring himself to imagine the terrifying person who had faced – and slaughtered – the marquis. She was tiny and her skin was so fair, she reminded him of fine china. Yet, she was not so easily broken.

  She stirred against him, not in an attempt at separation but in repositioning herself, and he kissed her forehead. Such a delicate and beautiful creature she was, despite her insistence otherwise.

  “
What time is it?” she mumbled.

  “I don’t know.”

  She rifled through his pockets, and retrieved his watch for him. “Ten o’clock. Even Heather will be a bit curious as to where I’ve been.”

  “Isn’t she always?”

  “Well, usually she doesn’t see me leave with a man.” She raised her head. “I’m supposed to have some sense of propriety.” Her hair looked a positively brilliant orange against the rays of the sun that hit it when she sat up.

  “I am a terrible gentleman for saying so, but I am glad you don’t.”

  She could not hide her grin, and turned away, finally pulling out of their embrace and stepping out from under her covers. She stood up with a yawn.

  “How do you walk in those things?”

  “Very carefully,” she said, slinging the sword over her shoulder. “Get up, you lazy man.” She offered a hand for him to do so, and he took it, getting back to his feet.

  “I seem to be spending more and more time passed out in this forest, thanks to you,” he said. “Did you hit me that first time? When I went to investigate the bandit camp, and left the note on the cross?”

  “Of course. Do you know another person crazy enough to pull such a stunt?” she said as she took the wolf head and hide and pushed them against the base of the tree, covering them with leaves and twigs. “I’ll come back to destroy them later.”

  “Destroy them?”

  “The Wolf’s job is done,” she said. “He disappears back into the forest now, Inspector. That’s how these stories are supposed to end.”

  “Perhaps that’s how I should end my report. I suppose I’ll have to write one. How do I tell a giant lie?”

  “Start with a small one and keep them running until they’re a big string, I suppose,” she said.

  Georgiana began to meander back, but he caught her and pulled her in, kissing her. She didn’t fight it, but didn’t encourage anything further. “Tell me it was real,” he said.

  “You’ll have to specify, Inspector Audley.”

  “Robert. My name is Robert.”

  She grinned. “Robert, you’ll have to be more specific.”

  “You know what I mean. The day in the cave – it wasn’t part of anything to do with the Wolf’s greater plans. It was because you cared about me, if only for that afternoon, in that place.”