AGNES & THE INFIDEL
Agnes, Part V


Aquitaine

827 A.D.

..........

[Agnes]

Agnes steps back to within reach of the sword. She holds the bundle of 
clothes in front of her to cover her modesty as far as possible. 
When he doesn't immediately attack, she sets down her bundle, and 
taking her skirt, wraps it around herself, nimbly doing up the buckles.

"Good day to you Kemal ibn-Hakim ibn-Daud Hajii." She replies in 
Spanish. 

Judging that he is far enough away not to reach her in the interim,  she 
pulls on her jerkin.

"I have probably met your pupil up the hill. 
He decided to attack me."

She puts the sword on top of the bundle and puts them all on top of her 
shield, which she picks up flat.

"I won." she continues matter-of-factly, but watching for a hostile 
response.
"Were it not that my sword broke, his head and body would have parted 
company. You could look upon it as a sign that God did not want him to 
lose his life today. So I didn't take it."

She starts to walk towards where horse and mule are tethered.

"He is probably still at the top of the hill just beyond the church 
wondering how to explain to you why he now has no sword and no 
horse.
If you wish I will lead you to him. 
Now that I am clean, I intend to go to the chapel to pray."

She continues to keep a careful eye on him as she goes towards the 
animals. 
 
<><><><><>

[GM]

The infidel's eyebrows rise. He looks away again as you put your clothes 
on.

"He attacked you?" Kemal looks irritated, and mutters something in his 
own language.

He follows you, maintaining a safe distance (safe for you or him?) as you 
take Ethel's bit.

"Your Spanish sounds foreign, like mine," he says. And after a short 
pause. "I introduced myself. Even among pagans, I understand it is 
considered polite to return the courtesy."

<><><><><>

[Agnes]

"My apologies, Kemal ibn-Hakim ibn-Daud Hajii. It has been a long day. 
My name is Agnes Smith." 
A wave of regret washes over her, as she realises she had not thought 
to call herself 'Westland'.

"And if I truly were a pagan, I would not have spared your pupil."

She hangs on her mule the garments she hasn't put on, as she does 
with her shield, and after securing the dagger in her belt, unties the 
animals.

She leads both animals up the escarpment, going slowly in her wet skirt, 
and using the sword as a walking stick at times. She is cautious, for 
somewhere ahead is likely to be a vengeful saracen, and behind her is 
his companion. She decides that she will simply indicate the battle-
ground to the latter, and go sttraight to the chapel.

<><><><><>

[GM]

"Agnes Smith," the infidel repeats, as if trying out the name.

He continues to ride behind you, maintaining a comfortable distance.

"Is that Brittanic?" he asks finally. There's a subtle edge in his tone.

You hear a crack of thunder....though the sky is clear.

Lightning flickers above the tops of the trees that stand between you and 
the chapel ahead, and you feel a most peculiar tingling up and down 
your spine....even though you already feel the Quickening because of 
the immortal behind you, this seems like something akin to and yet 
different from that.

Kemal ibn-Hakim ibn-Daud Hajjii exclaims something vehement, and 
spurs his horse forward, charging directly at you.

<><><><><>

[Agnes]

"Actually, I'm from Northumbria. 
You've probably never heard of it, but not so long ago it was the greatest 
kingdom in all of Britannica.
Civil wars and the Vikings have reduced its status somewhat in recent 
years though." she answers as she continues to lead the animals up the 
slope.

"I learned to speak the language of the Asturians on the trading trips I .... 
"

She leaves the sentence unfinished as she realises that he is spurring 
his horse on towards her. 
She reverses her grip on the sword back to a more normal one, and 
waits close by Ethel's muzzle waiting to see down which side of the 
horse and mule he will ride. Then she steps smartly to the other side to 
interpose the animal between him and her. 
Holding her sword at the ready, she keeps a grip of the reins in her left 
hand, as her mind starts to race and the adrenalin pumps through her 
system.

Fighting the pupil had been bad enough, fighting the master would be 
worse - even before taking into account his chainmail. Her only real 
hope was that she had misunderstood his intentions. If not she was in 
_real_ trouble. He had waited until she was too far from the river and not 
close enough to the church, and he could ride her down whichever way 
she went. Probably she could run for the steeper parts of the slope 
where his horse would have difficulties, and hope to shake him off in the 
darkness, but that was more hope than realism.

She watched him ride level with Ethel, and waited to see what he did. If 
he carried on she would follow. If he turned towards her she would duck 
between her animals to try to giver herself the opportunity to get her 
shield before making a run for the rocks. 

<><><><><>

[GM]

The Saracen sees you drawing your sword and his expression narrows. 
His own sword comes out in a flash.

However, it seems he's not charging you after all...he gallops past you 
and Ethel, and keeps going. He glances over his shoulder as he 
continues towards the chapel, and snarls back "I should have known, 
you're working together! After I deal with the dog, I will come back for the 
bitch!"

<><><><><>

Agnes hurries up the slope after him, dragging the two animals as fast 
as they'll go. 
She had no idea what the man was talking about, but he was apparently 
hostile, and this was the way to the church.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Behind Kemal, you emerge in the clearing surrounding the upward slope 
that leads to the chapel.

Kemal has come to a halt, twenty yards ahead of you. He is already 
moving his horse about so he can keep an eye on both you and the man 
standing in front of the chapel.

Gerald.

The Cornwaller is standing over the prone body of your earlier 
opponent, Kemal's pupil, and dressed in his now-familiar cloak and 
chainmail. He still carries a shield, but in his weapon hand he clutches 
an axe, instead of a sword.

There seems to already be a heated conversation going on, in Spanish;

"-pig, first you and then your woman!" the Saracen snarls.

"My woman?" Gerald replies. Then he sees you, across the clearing. His 
eyes widen, in shock....and wicked delight.

"Ah yes," he says slowly. "My woman." He bellows laughter.

Kemal ibn-Hakim scowls angrily, glaring at Gerald and then at you, 
obviously not appreciating the joke which he knows he's not getting.

<><><><><>

[Agnes]

"YOU!!" she shouts at Gerald, part in surprise and part in anger.

She stops the animals and takes up her shield. She couldn't see herself 
getting out of this without a fight.

She continues in Spanish, "You absolute bastard Gerald! You've killed 
him haven't you?"

With narrowing eyes she stares at Gerald and starts walking towards 
him. She knows that, yet again, he's in chain and she's just in a jerkin, 
but that's by-the-by. 

"What right had you to kill him? 
I had let him live! 
I bet you didn't even let him have a weapon. 
Did you even let him wake up?"

She starts to move in a spiral towards Gerald. She wants to get closer to 
him, but she wants the church at her back, and she wants to be able to 
see Kemal too.

"I let _you_ live last time too, but it doesn't seem to have improved you 
any. You are worse if anything."

She glances at Kemal. "I take it you have met Gerald before too?"

<><><><><>

[GM]

"Wrong on all counts, woman!" Gerald growls. "He had revived from 
your attack, and I did give him a weapon. I even gave him the better of 
my weapons." He smiles and tosses his axe into the ground, then kneels 
to retrieve a sword from the dead Saracen's hand.

"He was a fledgling!" yells Kemal. "He'd been immortal barely a year!"

"I obeyed the Rules!" Gerald retorts.

The man from Cornwall turns to you. "Kemal and I had an 
appointment....I didn't expect the infidel to provide me one appetizer 
before the main course, much less two!"

Kemal's horse dances in circles as the Saracen grits his teeth, 
apparently suppressing the urge to charge at one of you. "You two 
Brittanians....you are not friends?"

"Oh no," Gerald replies, moving in a circle counter to yours. "Old 
acquaintances, certainly." He points his sword at you. "I challenge you 
here and now, Agnes Westland!" He places heavy stress on your 
married name, smirking, knowing that it must be a sore spot.

Kemal blinks, and settles back in his saddle. "Very well," he mutters. "I 
shall take the victor." He begins moving towards his dead pupil.

Gerald smiles at you. "You got lucky last time, Agnes. I've taken three 
more heads since then, including poor Marwan." Kemal looks up and 
glowers at the sarcastic reference to his dead comrade. "I'd have 
thought," Gerald continues, "that by now you'd at least have acquired 
some armor."

<><><><><>

[Agnes]

Her eyes narrow at his attempt to upset her, but she replies, "Thank you, 
Gerald. I accept your kind offer to let me put on my armour."

With that she backs away from him towards the animals.

"I'll leave you two to chat then."

[assuming Gerald lets her]

She retires to the animals, and, going behind and unpacks her leather 
armour. 
Then she takes off her skirt and jerkin and puts on her armour. Finally, 
after pulling on her gloves she takes her shield back on her arm and 
Marwan's sword in her hand, she heads back towards Gerald. 

<><><><><>

[GM]

"What?" Gerald exclaims. Obviously, he had no such intentions.

He steps towards you, and looks over at Kemal. Were it not for the other 
immortal, your fellow Brittanian might not be so willing to let you 
proceed. But actively trying to prevent you from evening the odds might 
provoke Kemal to take action....or it might not. In any case, Gerald 
seems quite desirous of fighting you first, so he waits, glowering, while 
you dress. He and Kemal do not exchange any further words. The 
Saracen is placing his late pupil's head near his shoulders, and would 
appear to be praying.


As you come back around from behind Ethel, the Saracen rises and 
stands at the edge of the clearing. Certainly he has a vested interest in 
watching the two of you fight, and gleaning what knowledge he can of 
his next opponent's fighting style.

"You look like a Roman sausage stuffed into that leather!" Gerald 
sneers. And lunges at you.

Your swords meet, and rasp against each other in a rapid series of 
attacks and counter-attacks, all parried or stopped by your shields. 
You're better than you were the last time you fought....but so is Gerald. 
You no longer have the speed advantage you enjoyed in your last duel. 
You slash at his head, and he raises his shield to deflect the blow, then 
tries to cut low beneath your swing, only to be stopped by the edge of 
your shield. He yanks his sword from your shield in time to back away 
and parry your next overhead swing, and then steps forward with a 
powerful swing that numbs your arm when you block it, and you still feel 
his blade slide past your shield to bite into the leather over your 
shoulder. He withdraws quickly again, swatting aside your counterattack.

"You just ran away from Bordeaux, didn't you?" the Cornwaller says in 
Anglo-Saxon, panting slightly, as are you. "Never even said a word to 
your poor mortal husband, let him think I killed you. I looked him up in 
London, you know...."

<><><><><>

[Agnes]

Gerald's words wound more than any sword. It is as if he had reached 
over and grabbed the pit of her stomach, and then twisted it for good 
measure. She felt awful - but said nothing. She couldn't.

Without doubt though, her expression - especially her eyes - will have 
told him what he wanted to know: he has indeed scored on a very sore 
point.

She hopes that this 'victory' will make Gerald overconfident. She feints 
at his chest, and turns it into an attack on his sword arm. She plans to 
follow it up with another feint and then an attack on his near leg, but 
she'll go for his head if he looks open. She wants him DEAD. She knows 
that in her heart of hearts it is her own past actions that are causing her 
the pain - but that wasn't the point.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Your feint almost draws Gerald out, well enough for you to slash at his 
arm. But your sword grates against his mail sleeve and glances off.

He tries to hack at your extended arm, but fortunately you hadn't 
extended yourself too far, and pull back in time; his sword whiffs through 
empty air. You're forced another step back as he turns his failed attack 
into a circular motion, trying to slash at your legs.

He's prepared for your next feint, and easily parries the real attack that 
comes after it. He pounds on your shield with his sword, growling in 
frustration.

You almost feint again, and suddenly see an opening, directly between 
his sword and his shield. Your blade flashes down the center of his 
chest, tearing at the armor. But as the mail links going flying, it seems 
that armor is all you tore; you rent his mail shirt but failed to reach the 
flesh beneath.

Gerald looks down at the visible evidence of his close call, and then 
snarls, stepping forward with a quick series of blows that forces you to 
take a step backwards each time you block them with your shield, the 
force of his attacks sufficient to cut you in half should he connect.

<><><><><>

[Agnes]

"It's not as easy as last time, is it Gerald?" 

Aware that she will lose if she gets hit - unlike Gerald, Agnes goes on 
the defensive, stepping back, parrying or blocking as appropriate, and 
being prepared to jump away if she misses her block. 

"If you're having this much trouble trying to hit a woman, I can't think 
what possessed you to think you were going to prevail against Kemal."

Gerald gets an easy ride for a few of his ferocious attacks, with no real 
retaliation going his way. But Agnes is going to take the measure of her 
opponent, and when the opening is there, she'll stop-cut the wrist of his 
sword hand. Followed by a slash at his neck. 

Then perhaps she'll start trading blows again.

<><><><><>

[GM]

On Gerald's very next attack, you parry so deftly that you manage to 
smack your blade against his wrist, rather than his sword, causing him to 
let go. Still on a downward swing, his weapon goes spinning through the 
air over your shoulder, rather close to your left ear, and lands behind 
you.

Gerald retracts his now-empty hand, wincing slightly as he shakes it. He 
wastes no time gaping at his sudden disarmament, however, but 
immediately raises his shield so that you can just see his eyes over the 
upper rim, and backpedals towards the axe he thrust into the ground 
earlier.

Slightly to the side, you see the Saracen shaking his head as he 
watches, with arms crossed.

<><><><><>

[Agnes]

She quickly follows him, aiming a rapid succession of blows at his legs, 
whilst he is unable to retaliate.

<><><><><>

[GM]

You pursue Gerald, slashing at his legs repeatedly, but he lowers his 
shield quickly, blocking your sword, bringing his shield back up to 
protect the upper half of his body, then lowering it again to deflect your 
next flurry of attacks. His shield-work is excellent....as opposed to yours, 
which is merely sufficient to hold your shield at the proper angle.

He quickly disabuses you of your belief that he can't retaliate; his shield 
slams into yours, forcing you to halt your advance, and then you barely 
deflect the edge of his shield with yours, as he tries to bash you in the 
face with it.

By the time you recover, he's backing away again. You chase him and 
try to cut his legs out from under him again, but he continues blocking 
your attacks.

Kemal is just behind him, standing a few paces from the body of his late 
pupil, but makes no move to stop the Cornwaller as Gerald seizes the 
handle of his axe, and pulls it from the ground.

"A sword has more finesse," Gerald says as he raises the axe and 
bends his arm back, holding it so that he can deliver a powerful 
overhead swing at will, "but there's a certain satisfaction in sinking an 
axe-blade into someone's neck. You really are a fool, Agnes. You 
SHOULD have found me at the bottom of the Gironde, and finished me 
off when you had the chance."

<><><><><>

[Agnes]

Agnes stops her stream of attacks. She's never faced an axe before, but 
she has already decided that she really doesn't want to get hit by it. 
She does a quick slash at Gerald's wrist.

"You're right of course Gerald, but I've learned, and it's not a mistake I 
intend to repeat."

"After all that effort to get your body: it took long enough; and then to 
toss it back in again because you weren't worth it. No next time it won't 
be worth tossing it back in."

She steps back as she parries his next attacks. "How many live do I 
have to atone for my error? There's Marwan; and how many others?"

<><><><><>

[GM]

Gerald quickly puts his shield where his other wrist just was, striking 
your sword so hard, he almost knocks it out of your hand. You're forced 
to step back and block his axe swing with your shield as you get a better 
grasp on your weapon.

His weapon glances heavily off your shield. He hefts it again with a 
ponderous shrug.

"How many others? Mortals or immortals?" Gerald asks, with a grim 
smile. "Counting your husband?"

He continues relying on his shield to parry your attacks; it's a seemingly 
impenetrable wall that stops one blow after another.

"If you're seeking penance, YOUR life will do quite nicely."

His axe comes towards your neck in a horizontal arc. You stop it with a 
sword parry, ducking in case you fail, then come back up to a ready 
position while Gerald recovers from his swing.

<><><><><>

[Agnes]

"Oh no, Gerald. The best way I can repent is to rid the world of monster, 
who seems to take great pride in the number of people he kills: immortal 
and mortal."

She tries a swing at the haft of his axe to try to strike it out of his hand, 
and follows it up with another cut at his wrist. 
She is sure now, that to win she'll have to get lucky again. And avoid his 
axe.

"So - including my husband then -" she replies grimly, "How many have 
you killed all told?"

She decides to change tactic and just aim her blows at his chest for a 
while, to make the later feints more unexpected.

<><><><><>

[GM]

"Why, I don't know, really," Gerald replies. "I haven't actually kept 
count....except for the immortals, of course."

He has too much momentum with his axe for you to easily knock it aside 
and out of his hand. Your sword edge shaves some splinters off his haft, 
but then you have to block another blow from his blade.

He batters your shield repeatedly, while taking a greater number of 
blows on his own shield. If it comes down to whose shield will last 
longer, it's probably yours that is taking more damage.

<><><><><>

[Agnes]

Agnes directs her attack at Gerald's wrist, and then reverts to her normal 
attacks. A while later she puts one on the haft of his axe before returning 
to attacks against his body. 

Aware that her shield is showing that it will not last forever she 
manouvers the fight so that she gets to see Kemal's horse, to see if his 
shield still hangs from the saddle. If it does she'll then spend time getting 
in a position that she can make a run for it should her shield fail.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Gerald once again deflects the attack at his wrist, and continues 
blocking your body blows.

His next swing is far too overreaching, and he pulls himself off-balance. 
You move forward eagerly, sensing an opportunity to take advantage of 
his fumble. He spins desperately, catches your first attack on his shield, 
but is unable to prevent you from landing another blow on his ribs.

And once again you have to stifle a curse as his armor seems to blunt 
the worst of your damage. He winces, but keeps swinging, and you see 
no blood.

You don't even see the blow that suddenly whirls past your defenses 
and catches you in the side. You're half-lifted off the ground, and thrown 
two paces back, and your feet almost go out from under you as you 
stagger back, yet by great luck, you remain standing. The sensation of 
pain and blood gushing from a major wound is becoming almost familiar, 
and still terrifying. Once again, Gerald draws first blood, drastically 
turning the odds against you with one blow.

He launches himself forward and brings his axe smashing down on you 
with a mighty, all-out swing.

You almost stop breathing as you raise your shield, and your shield 
absorbs the blow...and remains intact. You do see a crack appear, 
splitting the wood almost to the center, however. The pain of your wound 
is too great for you to really notice the shock of the impact numbing your 
shield arm.

Gerald's second attack was ill-timed, however; had it landed, the fight 
would surely be over. But he perhaps overestimated how badly he'd 
injured you, as you're still standing and still able to fight, and he is still 
leaning forward, all his weight and strength committed to his attack, his 
shield nowhere to be seen.

<><><><><>

[Agnes]

The pain and the gut-wrenching sickening feeling have become familiar 
companions this day, but this time it is worse, for it had come as a 
surprise. So much so that she had almost stumbled when the force of 
the blow had knocked her backwards.

The fight had deteriorated badly, as she had predicted it would to 
herself. Her occassional hits were but damaging his chainmail, whilst his 
had almost cut her in half. Now her shield was giving up under the 
punishment. The fight had reached its turning point she decided, and it 
was downhill from here for her unless she did something spectacular.

She saw the opening, and heedless of Gerald's next actions she swung 
at his near leg with all her might. She _would_ shatter it, and for good 
measure she planned on taking off his wrist with the backswing.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Your sword strikes his leg at almost the exact same spot where you took 
him down last time. And once again, you tear through his flesh and feel 
the impact of metal on bone as you sink your blade all the way to his 
thighbone.

He tips sideways, and on the backswing, you all but take off his hand. 
His axe drops to the ground and his hand hangs limply from his spurting 
wrist. You feel a triumphant sense of deja vu as he falls down....but this 
time, there is no river for him to jump into.

<><><><><>

[Agnes]

She starts an all out downswing. 

With grim determination Agnes says, "Just like last time, eh Gerald? But 
I showed mercy last time, and you said I was a fool .... "

She guides her sword hoping to sever his neck whilst he is still 
recovering from the damage she's inflicted upon him. 

"May God have mercy upon you Gerald." 

And if she fails, she'll just try again.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Gerald is an amazingly tenacious bastard. Even spurting blood from a 
nearly-severed wrist, and with more gushing from his thigh, he manages 
to raise his shield and block your sword, not once, but twice.

He makes a low sound, deep in his throat, emerging like a gargling 
scream as he lurches towards you from his half-kneeling position. He 
slashes at your legs with the edge of his shield, in a level swing....and 
you feel a jolting pain which is almost worse than the axe-wound in your 
side, as your left knee bends sideways with a sickening crack. With a 
cry of your own, you collapse to the ground.

Gerald tries to raise himself up again, and shuffles towards you on his 
knees, while you groan and rise up on your good knee to face him. 
Gerald topples towards you and collapses face-down in front of you. He 
lies there, breathing shallowly. You can hear the blood flowing from his 
wounds in a steady trickle, and see it spreading beneath him and 
soaking into the ground.

Kemal ibn-Hakim hasn't moved, and continues to watch you impassively.

<><><><><>

[Agnes]

With an undignified bottom-shuffle Agnes positions herself in front of 
Gerald's neck. Gingerly, and with a wince of pain she lifts her damaged 
leg into a comfortable position as she sits herself up, facing him. 

The foot of her good leg rests against his arm as she sits much like a 
woodcutter.

"This, Gerald, is for all the people you would have killed in the future, 
had I not stopped you."

She hefts the blade above her head, and then smites his neck with all 
her might.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Your sword makes a sound like chopping wood....moist, wet wood...as it 
sinks into Gerald's neck, slowed a bit by the leather gorget.

More blood sprays out. It seems human beings are nothing but blood, 
inside.

Gerald lies there, blood spurting from his neck, wrist and thigh. He 
seems determined not to die any more cleanly than he lived. Kemal 
shakes his head and murmurs "Not quite."

You feel your gorge rising, as you force yourself to raise your sword 
again, and finish the job. You are very close to vomiting, as you chop 
downwards again, and Gerald's head rolls free. Surprisingly, there is no 
fountain of blood jetting from his neck. You feel a shudder rack your 
body.

The Saracen is stepping backwards and turning away. Could *he* be 
squeamish?

You know, from Peter's teachings, that something is supposed to 
happen now. Gerald lies beneath you, motionless, and the flow of blood 
seems to have stopped. His face, half-obscured by his helmet, is turned 
away from you. You think you see his mouth open and close, and that's 
the final straw, your stomach convulses and you're going to throw up-

And his body jerks beneath you, and then a pillar of flame rises from 
him, engulfing you and almost lifting you off the ground.

You're spun about, but don't go flying- instead, you're held in place by 
the column of fire that roars out of the dead Cornwaller. You fling your 
arms wide, involuntarily, and your sword flies from your hand. The pain 
in your side is forgotten, as is your crushed knee. You can no longer see 
anything but blinding light, hear anything but roaring flames, or feel 
anything but heat searing your skin. Surprisingly, it doesn't hurt....or 
rather, it DOES hurt, yet in a twisted way, the pain is good. More than 
good, it's exciting, stimulating....your skin crawls and tingles at the same 
time, and electricity races up and down your spine, like the Quickening 
you feel when in the presence of another immortal, but amplified a 
hundred times over.

The flames are imbued with Gerald's spirit....his very soul. Everything 
that Gerald of Cornwall was, flows into you.

**BITCH!!** he snarls, conveying unimaginable hatred and malice, 
wishing a thousand curses on you, and willing his Quickening to poison 
your soul, and damn you to Hell just as you damned him. But it's an 
empty, spiteful wish...his cursing and raw malice fades along with the 
last vestiges of his consciousness. All his memories, all his thoughts and 
desires and knowledge, flows past so quickly that you can't pick 
anything specific out, it's as if a river was rushing past, filled with debris 
from a shattered vessel and retrieving something in particular would be 
all but impossible, all you get are random bits and pieces. Dying in battle 
in Cornwall, taught by another British immortal, fighting his first battle 
and receiving his first Quickening in Scotland, and thus becoming drunk 
on the power, and after that, a Mercian, a Welsh woman who was 
younger than you and newly immortal, a Frankish warrior, a naked 
barbarian who learned harder than you did the folly of fighting 
unarmored against someone in full armor....and of course, Marwan, who 
had only just recovered from his losing fight with you when Gerald came 
upon him, and blocked him from retreating into the chapel.....Gerald's 
victims are notable only because little pieces of them remain in him, just 
as he will now remain in you, and you get fleeting glimpses of a couple 
of older immortals that Gerald's victims slew. This, condensed, is what 
another immortal will receive from you, if you ever lose your head in 
turn.

You feel more than human, a goddess who has vanquished an infernal 
foe, and you receive your reward, gargling soundlessly as you throw 
your head back and drink in the power. Nothing compares to 
this....nothing! A small part of yourself, which will grow louder once the 
immediate sensations fade, is sickened, and terrified that you might 
actually begin to SEEK this again, but that part is lost in the terrible fury 
of the Quickening. An even smaller voice is the rational one that reminds 
you that Kemal ibn-Hakim is still waiting for you.

Suddenly the fiery column swirling around you is dying, and the force 
that bouyed you up lets you fall back to the ground. You collapse onto 
steaming, parched earth, and lie there, staring at the sky, breathing 
heavily. The sensations fade, Gerald's spirit now a tiny fragment of your 
unconscious mind.

<><><><><>

[Agnes]

She lay there, staring at the brightest of the stars shining through the 
evening sky. 

Now she understood. She could see why Gerald had been as he was. 
The feeling had been indescribable, and Peter wouldn't have done it 
justice even if he had tried. 

A hint of the sensation lingered, and then she remembered: Kemal was 
still there. 

She slowly got to her feet, gingerly puting weight on her damaged leg, 
an looked about, at Kemal, at Gerald, at Marwan. She searches for 
Marwan's sword, and finding it, walks over to pick it up. Silently she goes 
back to her mule.

Still in a state of mental shock, she says, 
"I'd rather wait until the morning, if you don't mind."  as she starts 
leading the animals towards the chapel. 

"Then, if you like, we can bury one each, or one or other of us can bury 
all three."

<><><><><>

[GM]

Your leg is no longer damaged. And the wound in your side is already 
gone. The Quickening seems to have accelerated your healing, so that 
you rise whole....although still trembling from the experience.

The Saracen nods. "I was planning to bury my pupil, at least, before 
killing you." He looks up. "There is another problem, though. It seems 
two Quickenings in a row have stirred enough curiousity in the peasants 
to overcome their fear."

Downhill from the chapel, you see a small, huddled knot of peasants 
approaching, carrying various farm implements.

<><><><><>

[Agnes]

"Well, I'd rather leave than kill innocents, and it may come to that if the 
crowd turn to a rabble."

She quickly leads the animals to Gerald's body. She slings his headless 
corpse over the back of Marwan's horse, securing it there, and puts his 
head in a sack which she ties to the saddle. 
"The journey will not be dignified for your late pupil, but it will allow a 
decent burial, which I doubt, they" she nods at the approaching crowd, 
"would give him."

[She similarly treats Marwan's corpse and head, if Kemal has not done 
so, or assists in tying the load securely.]

"If we go back down to and across the river, perhaps they'll lose interest, 
especially as it's beginning to get dark."

On legs still a little wobbly from the day's experience, she leads the 
animals back down to and across the river. 

"Can I suggest a truce until these two are buried?" she asks as they 
climb the bank on the other side. "That way we can eat and sleep 
without clutching a sword or wearing armour. In the morning, one of us 
could cook breakfast whilst the other acquires a spade."

She offers her hand. "A deal?"     

<><><><><>

[GM]

Kemal ibn-Hakim nods. "I do not wish to slaughter ignorant peasants, 
even if they are Christians." He lifts Marwan's body almost gently onto 
his own horse, and accompanies you down-river and across.

"It is no wonder you infidels use such large, clumsy swords," he 
comments. "Nor does it surprise me that the Madjus are overruning your 
country, if that is how all Britons fight, hacking at one another as if you 
are trying to cut down trees."

Dismounted, he looks at your outstretched hand, perhaps unsure what 
to do with it.

"I do not trust women or infidels," he says. "But I will agree to these 
conditions. I will not sleep within range of your presence, however." He 
reaches his hand out quickly, barely touches your fingers, and then 
withdraws it, as if afraid to be polluted with the touch of a woman infidel.

<><><><><>

[Agnes]

Agnes leaves Kemal ibn-Hakim to his own devices and sets off into the 
trees to find as secluded a clearing as she can in the growing gloom. 

Much as she desired to just collapse in a heap and sleep, she sets to 
with all the chores. She tethers the mule and horse in the grass, and 
proceeds to unburden them. Her own goods she sets by the tree by 
which she will sleep. Marwan's she sets in a separate pile.  She curses 
that in her haste she left Gerald's weapons where they fell. 
**Perhaps I can recover them tomorrow - it'd be a pity to leave them.** 
she thinks to herself. Then, treating his body with reasonable dignity, 
she lifts down Gerald's body, and before rigor mortis sets in, takes off 
his chainmail. 
"Well Gerald, if you've taught me anything it is that a good set of 
chainmail will win fights against all but lucky women." she comments to 
the corpse as she does so. That done she unstraps his shield and lays 
him out, between herself and the horses. 

She hangs up her damp clothes to dry, takes off her armour and 
wrapping herself in her blanket, lays down for sleep. 

She lies there under the trees an prays to God, thanking him for 
deliverance not once, but twice that day, and asking him to deliver her 
again the next morning. She regrets that she was unable to pray in the 
chapel and leave a donation, the first time due to Gerald, and the 
second due to the villagers, perhaps she will be able to do so before 
fighting Kemal.

The morning comes after a night troubled by desperate fights and 
vicious wounds and gory battles. 

She dresses in her clothes, packing away the parts of her leather armour 
that the hauberk doesn't cover. The hauberk, sword and shield she 
leaves accessible on the mule's back. 
Then, eating some breakfast as she goes, she heads towards where the 
next village on this side of the river might be to buy a spade, and thence 
to return to bury Gerald and find Kemal. She wasn't quite sure where 
she'd find him, but the field in front of the chapel seemed a good starting 
point.        

<><><><><>

[GM]

You do indeed find Kemal in front of the chapel, digging a grave. His 
pupil's body is already shrouded and laid next to him. The Saracen is 
knee-deep, working the ground with a crude but serviceable spade. It's 
not likely a Saracen could have strolled into a village in Aquitaine to 
purchase supplies, with the entire region already paranoid about them 
after their recent invasions in the south. One wonders where he got the 
shovel?

He's stepping out of the hole as you come around the chapel, standing 
warily with his sword at his hip.

"I haven't seen any peasants hereabouts....I suppose they probably 
scuttled back to their homes after the display last night." He leans 
against his shovel and sighs. "I wish there was a mosque within riding 
distance, but Christian holy ground is better than none, even for burying 
a Muslim. Not that Marwan was much of a Muslim." His expression as he 
regards you is wary, but not quite as hostile as it was last night.

<><><><><>

[Agnes]

Pausing in the field to pick up Gerald's sword from where it landed, and 
to sheath it in his scabbard, Agnes continues over to the grounds of the 
chapel. Her hands are still covered in  grime, and the spade hanging on 
the mule is still dirty from use. 

She walks on towards him, leading the  animals, the buzz and the 
feeling that always accompanied it getting stronger as she goes. The 
urge to turn round and run is strong, but she successfully struggles to 
set it to one side.That the last two occasions on which she had had that 
feeling of another immortal had been at this very place, and had led to 
fights that came close to killing her, made walking towards Kemal a real 
act of willpower. But she had agreed to meet him after they had buried 
their dead, and the time to run away had passed.

It had indeed been a time of revelations, not only the quickening, and 
how it could cause one to lust for more, but how important the rules had 
been shown to be. Without them, Gerald would never have let her put on 
her armour, and Kemal would not have allowed her a night's rest before 
their fight. 
**It had been so easy to berate Peter's actions: How little I'd known 
then.**

During what seemed like an age as she walked towards the chapel, her 
palms grew sweaty, and her heart pounded - ready for action. Seeing 
that he was actually in the graveyard relaxed her mind a bit, but her 
body was still tense.

"Good morning, Kemal ibn-Hakim ibn-Daud Hajii" she says to him when 
she reaches the graveyard. 
Tethering the animals by the entrance and leaving both swords on Ethel, 
she approaches him. 

Nodding at his spoil heap she comments, 
"Gerald wasn't deserving of a grave on hallowed ground, nor one 6' 
deep. 

Is there anything I can do to help?", she continues,  
"Help you dig, make some breakfast, or inscribe something for the grave 
that will mark it, but not cause it to be defiled by the locals?" 

<><><><><>

[GM]

Kemal seems more perturbed by your offers of help than anything else.

"I have already eaten breakfast," he says. "And we do not customarily 
mark our graves with stones. But....thank you." He looks around. 
"Perhaps if you would simply watch out for any peasants or priests that 
may come up here to investigate the chapel....I do not think we can be 
seen from their fields, but someone may become curious after last 
night."

He continues digging for the rest of the morning, pausing once at 
midday to climb out of the hole, and kneel, facing east, performing some 
kind of ritual.

At the edge of the hill, you can look down the gradual slope and see the 
fields spread out on this side of the Gironde, and you can see distant 
figures, working in them. You are careful to stay in the shade of the 
trees, low and out of sight, and no one ventures up here.

Kemal ibn-Hakim finally lays Marwan to rest and covers him back up, 
then says a few prayers over his pupil's grave.

It's early afternoon, as he wipes sweat from his brow, and dusts his 
hands off. He approaches you cautiously.

"I need a bath, but I suppose it would be better to wait until after our 
duel, since I will get dirty digging your grave as well." It's slightly chilling 
the way he says this, not boasting or trying to intimidate you, merely 
stating what he considers to be a foregone conclusion.

He looks at you, and then at your mule. "I would prefer to get this done 
with as quickly as possible. Is it acceptable to you if we fight without 
armor?" He pauses. "It would be to your advantage anyway, since I have 
chain and you have only leather."

<><><><><>

[Agnes]

Making use of her time whilst she keeps watch as Kemal digs Marwan's 
grave, Agnes prays - in Anglo-Saxon.

She prays for Brian's soul, for Marwan's even though he was an infidel, 
for Gerald's for she knew now what powerful a temptation it was that he 
had succumbed to, and finally for her own, for she knew in her heart that 
she could not hope to win a third fight against an immortal in the space 
of a day.

Whilst Kemal is stopped for his ritual, Agnes goes inside the chapel, and 
looks around. She writes a note in Latin "To help atone for the sinners in 
the unnamed graves", and leaves it in the pulpit with a sum of money.


When she comes out again, Kemal has returned to digging the grave. 

She sits a while watching him, and then fetches her goatskin of water 
from her mule. Despite his reluctance to accept things from him, she 
asks, 
"Do you want a drink of water?" as she offers him the skin.


She waits by the trees, thinking over her life, puting her mind at ease. It 
had been a good life: longer than most, touched with moments of 
sadness, and moments of joy. There were things she would have liked to 
have done, places to which she would have like to have returned - 
mainly her roots. She is reminded of the morning she left Brian. Her 
husband that she cruelly deceived, and that Gerald killed. 

As he approaches, she turns to face him, wiping the tears from her 
cheeks.

  
At his suggestion of no armour, she replies, 
"It's your challenge - I'll fight in no armour if you desire it."

She walks back towards the mule and the horse.

"Tell Aethelbad - Hwuulf he once called himself. Anyway, tell him what 
became of me if you meet him.", she comments as she goes. 
At the mule she picks up Marwan's sword and scabard and hooks them 
over his horse's saddle. 
"Marwan's equipment is as he left it. 
The horse is rested and watered. 
The mule's name is Ethel." she continues matter-of-factly.


She takes Gerald's shield off Ethel, pulls his sword from the scabbard, 
and stands, relaxed now, waiting for Kemal.

She points with her sword at the point in the field where her earlier fight 
took place. 
"Shall we do it over there, where the other fights were?" she asks.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Kemal becomes increasingly taciturn, only nodding as you point to the 
field. He gets his own shield, and marches after you, taking up a position 
with sword and shield at the ready. Then he stands opposite you and 
waits, apparently reluctant to initiate the fight.

<><><><><>

[Agnes]

Agnes waits for him to make the first move, shield and sword in 
defensive positions. It's not as if she is looking for an opening: she just 
stands there, impassively, waiting; the afternoon sunshine highlighting 
her hair but also emphasising her puffy red eyes.

"It's a pleasant enough day for it.", she idly comments after a while, 
trying to take her mind off the waiting.

 A few minutes of waiting later, she adds, "I thought you wanted it over 
quickly? As it is you'll only finish digging in the dark."   

<><><><><>

[GM]

Kemal half-circles around you, like a lion circling a lamb. But the 
intensity of his gaze falters, and finally he lowers the point of his sword 
with a sigh.

"I have never killed a woman," he says. "I am sure someday I will have 
to, but I cannot find it in my heart to slay you. I really have no quarrel 
with you, other than your being an infidel."

He backs away a step. "You showed mercy to Marwan....though it did 
not save him, in the end. But it was own foolishness that killed him. So, I 
will show you the same mercy." He raises his sword slightly, in a parting 
gesture. "Farewell, Agnes of Northumbria. I hope we do not meet again."

The Saracen wheels around and strides back to his horse, saddling it 
and mounting without another look back.

<><><><><>

[Agnes]

"Farewell, Kemal ibn-Hakim ibn-Daud Hajii. May your God go with you.",
she replies as she watches him leave.

She walks back to the tethered animals, resheathes the sword and 
slings the shield, before leading them on to the village where she got the 
spade. 

She still lived, so she would be extravagant: she rented a room for the 
night and had some wine. The next day, she neither travelled nor 
hawked her wares, but repaired her leather armour and Gerald's gift of 
the chainmail, and tried her hand on Marwan's gift of a horse. 

In the end she spent a few days relaxing as best she could, before 
deciding that despite all, she was going to go home. She would make 
her way to the North coast and take a ship for London: visit Aethelbad if 
he was still there, and then ride back to Northumbria.