An Honorable Discussion

It seemed like a straightforward kind of a job. Slip onto the planet. Isolate the source of the inhabitant's immunity to Swanson's disease and and then slip out by means they had not the slightest suspicions about. But then the woman of another man took an especial liking to him. What could it hurt?

Page: 1| 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | TOP | BOTTOM | PREVIOUS | NEXT

Page One

An Honourable Discussion -by Lee Smith
© copyright 2001, all rights reserved

Nothing could mar the memory of this glorious day, or the one before, or the one before that. Two days ago he had been a maudlin virgin, and now he was not; it felt marvelous. Finally. He drew the sweet evening air deep into his lungs. Tall, lean, with long muscular legs, Talbot Lydia Barclay ran his fingers through shoulder-length auburn hair tied back with a leather thong and trotted to reach the Hiking Club's warm confines before the rest of them got home to grab the best tables.

####

The Barclay Hiking Club was a solid part of the planet's dirt and stone--no doubt about that. Though not as tall as Mistress Hiladia Pinkstone's palatial mansion on one side, or as broad as the Home for Retired Soldiers on the other, it was nonetheless a solid citizen in the neighborhood.

Talbot loved it but always had the feeling that the old clubhouse always frowned. It was as if it knew he was an interloper, a spy, and a distant stranger. Or perhaps it was just the way the long porch looked like a clinched jaw.

Belonging to a club who regarded themselves collectively as "The Hikers," made him feel bigger and stronger. Aside from a few small deviations, these people knew how to live. There was something to be said for the clarity of primitive ways. Everything was black, white, red, blue, yellow, easy, clear.

"When I retire, I shall come back here to live. This place is where I belong," he thought. "Their customs, the food, the people, especially the women, are marvelous!"

He bounded up the three broad porch steps, made a leap, slapped the sign that read "Honor Thy Mother," and slid up to the solid oak door -- the mighty huntsman, home from the hill.

Inside, in the Great Room, there were only two other men. One was Gary, the club steward, a healer who had volunteered to sponsor him, his adoptive father. He expected to find Gary there but not his "father."

"It's good to be home," he called with an expectant smile.

Silence: they looked up, then away. Something was definitely wrong.

"What a beautiful three or four days we've had; haven't we? I feel good. What do you say to a round of red, gentlemen?" Talbot said.

Gary, the Hiking Club's house steward, a shrunken man of uncountable age, raised his head, but continued sweeping. "I will be with you in a moment, young Talbot," he replied. "I'm afraid that we have some serious talking to do, lad."

Talbot frowned. "Oh, no. What now," he thought. He cast both men an inquiring glance and then stretched his tired back. The somber faces caused him a momentary pang of apprehension, but nothing could dampen his spirits this day. Nothing. But still.

What could it be this time?

Page: 1| 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | TOP | BOTTOM | PREVIOUS | NEXT

Page Two

The mop closet muffled Gary's voice. "The wine will be on me, Talbot. But in an hour, the whole lot of them will be home from work, lumbering about, getting in the way. Then you can forget about floor mopping." He emerged from the closet and with a lowered tone he added, "Yes sir, you can forget that. And that's a fact."

"A glass of wine, father? Gary's being charitable. Better take advantage while you can." Talbot leaned his back against the bar rail and took in the shelf after shelf of trophies and plaques the club had won over the two hundred years of its existence. Many were from actual duels.

"Ahem. No thank you, Talbot, not right now," Wilhelm Mariana Barclay, the healer posing as Talbot's father, said. His eyes searched his hands and he shook his head as if someone had died, which wasn't too far from the truth. Gary, the steward, had received an ominously familiar envelope addressed to Talbot and had called Wilhelm immediately. Since then he hadn't left the clubhouse.

####

For his part, when the courier first delivered the letter, the old steward set the club's extensive information network into motion. By this time, he knew the woman's name and most of the story.

Trouble thickened the air.

Unaware, Talbot remained cheerful, besides he wanted no part of gloom and doom --probably bad news from the war front; that's all. "Gentlemen, let's not be so glum." He said looking around the room fondly. In the short six months he had been on Terlon, he had come to love the comfortable, rough, wooden-walled decor. Has it been only six months that I've been here? It seems like my whole life! With the exceptions of the brass trophies and the muted colors of portraits, the shades and tones of the main clubroom were brown. Sienna, mahogany, chestnut, and ginger but still brown; scrubbed, cleaned, and polished to a fault, but brown. He let his eyes take in the spare but solid features of the old Hiking Club. Curious name, nobody hiked that he knew of.

At this hour quiet stillness pervaded. The men, those, who were not fighting in the war, worked or ran their businesses at this time of day. Later, most of them would come home to a warm dinner, an evening of joking or game playing, and then a clean bed.

Gary brought three glasses of Red Jenette.

"Whoa, Gary! The house best!" Talbot exclaimed, first looking in wonder toward his father, and then holding the clear bright wine up to a wayward sunbeam. "Soooo, all right, what's going on?" Talbot looked from Gary to Wilhelm. Wilhelm avoided his son's eyes.

Gary, sighed deeply, squared his sparse shoulders, and then reached inside his vest. In ceremonial fashion, he handed Talbot a black-bordered envelope.

Wilhelm hung back, radiating worry. The worry reflected from the bare wooden walls and floors interfering, combining, and growing.

Casting a curious glance at his father, Talbot tore the envelope open and read it. The language was stiff, formal, so formal that the only words he clearly understood were his name and "to the death of one or both of the aforementioned gentlemen." With growing unease he handed the message back to Gary. Surely, some misunderstanding here would be explained in the next minute or two.

But after a perfunctory examination of the parchment, Gary nodded his head as if in agreement and said, "Yes, This is a request for an honorable discussion by one Marcus Aeroria, Talbot. He has been mad to have this delivered directly into your hand for the past two days." The small man looked from the parchment to Talbot several times as he re-read the entire thing. Now he regarded Talbot's face closely, waiting.

"Well, if he was so impatient, why didn't he, or you, deliver it to the hospital, Gary. I mean everyone knew where I was."

The little man cleared his throat and said in a voice a trifle higher in tone, "Requests to honorable discussion are only delivered club to club, Master Talbot, out of the sight of all women." He looked at Wilhelm before going back to Talbot. "He demands that it be to the death. Also, he refuses discussion on this point in advance." The steward suddenly thumped his thigh with his clenched fist and made a fierce face. "He is a soldier and an experienced swordsman. This is hardly fair in my estimation, but you cannot refuse, lad. Every Hiker would be shamed."

"Death?" Talbot said, struggling for connections. "Isn't that a little extreme?"

Wilhelm could contain himself no longer. He stumbled forward. "Talbot, Talbot, lad. What have you done, boy? Why didn't you listen?"

"What didn't I listen to?"

Page: 1| 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | TOP | BOTTOM | PREVIOUS | NEXT

"Women, son. Son, I told you to stay away from women: young women, old women, all women, all of the time-" Wilhelm flailed his arms in frustration "--You are too young . . . You have no knowledge of women yet." Then he wrung his hands.

"Oh, so this is what this is all about, Helene Milessa ?" Talbot looked back and forth between the men, relief on his face. "Listen, father, she asked me. There was nothing untoward. She's a doctor as we are. Just a fling between professionals. It's not the same thing as you thought. She-- "

Wilhelm threw his hands high into the air again as he turned away and then he clamped his hands against his ears as he stalked from window to window, stopping at each one to look out, as is help might be on the way.

Gary stepped in. "It's a duel. A duel to the death, boy. That's what this honorable discussion is. You have taken the man's sworn lover. He has issued a challenge." Gary motioned toward the trophy shelves, "Our honor demands that you meet him or leave Indoleria with your tail between your legs forever. And may I add, no member of the Barclay Hiking Club has ever failed to attend an honorable discussion ... not in two hundred years."

"No, I didn't. She ... " A growing horror began to seep, dripping slowly like cold heavy syrup into Talbot's chest. "I didn't know, Gary," he whispered. "I didn't know. I have no wish to fight this man. The woman came to me. Couldn't I just explain this all to him?"

Both the old steward and Wilhelm shook their heads in slow unison. The steward explained, "Nothing, absolutely nothing, can honorably be done or said to change things, lad. Any attempt at explanation will be taken as fear and cowardice." The steward rubbed his jaw. "Sabers. Sabers require the least skill. The choice of weapons is yours. Sabers would be easier."

"I have inquired," he continued. "We know nothing of this Marcus Aeroria, except that he is a soldier and is unreasonably passionate about Hellene Milessa, and has been since they were both children."

"Now wait a minute. Just wait. Can't I see Hellene and--"

Page: 1| 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | TOP | BOTTOM | PREVIOUS | NEXT

"NOOOOO! Boy, listen to me. The old man turned on him so violently that Talbot recoiled. "Try to understand. Women are no part of this . . . ever, ever, EVER," the steward said. His face showed the exasperated look of a man explaining the most fundamental of things to an extremely slow child. He walked three strides to the right and then three to the left, three to the right and three to the left. "The women must never know about these things. Don't you see? They will force legislation against it on economic grounds. Their incomes depend on male children." He swept his hand in the general direction of the city administration buildings. "Already they are attempting to force negotiations in our war with Braxton. The only decent war in twenty years." Gary took a breath and gathered himself. "One of you will simply disappear. It is the way it has always been." His right hand swept the air dismissively.

Wilhelm and Talbot now stood side-by-side watching Gary march back and forth like a diminutive general.

Now with a wave of both arms, Gary continued, "The sheriff will pretend a great search, but will never find the missing man." The little man shook his head and firmed his jaw. He clasped his hands behind his back and spoke as if to himself. "The word is that the man is insane with jealousy. It means that he must be sterile or a producer of only females." The steward scowled and shook his head in disgust.

"Well then why can't we talk to someone?" Talbot asked.

"Because that is not the way it is done," Gary said. "Forget negotiations, forget talk. Your choices are two: run, or fight."

Talbot turned to his father. "I have to collect and prepare the antibody serums for shipment. They are not ready and will not be for at least ten days. Many are waiting and dying."

"I wish it were different, son," Wilhelm said. "Of course, you could leave and restart your research in another kingdom perhaps." Wilhelm's voiced trailed off.

Gary started visibly. "He can't do that, Wilhelm. The disgrace would be yours also. You would be forced to leave or fight Marcus." He drank down the rest of his wine in one long draft and then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Members would leave the club in shame."

"No, I will never let that happen, Wilhem," Talbot said. "It just seems so strange. I have broken no law and have done no harm." He examined the tendons on the back of his hand. "I am a simple physician, not a soldier ... I waved a saber around a bit in dance class, but the likelihood is that he will kill me like a sheep. " Talbot smiled bitterly. "Now, if I could make it a dancing contest, I would have him ... I can't believe this. How has this occurred?"

Page: 1| 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | TOP | BOTTOM | PREVIOUS | NEXT

Page Five

"All that no longer matters, lad," Gary said. "The steward for this club--me--and the steward for the Barclay, Fox Hunting Club will meet at the Boar's Head Inn to set up the time. It will be clear and moonlit tomorrow night. Who knows what the weather will be like after that? Marcus is a soldier and far more used to swordplay than you are. Being able to see clearly will be more to your advantage than his."

Talbot nodded slowly but his mind furiously arranged and rearranged unsatisfactory options.

"Do you have any preferences for seconds?"

"No, Gary. I know you will select good ones." Talbot said, while images of razor sharp steel lifted and turned the contents of his stomach.

Gary left to fetch more wine and Wilhelm said, "Marshall will have a solution; don't despair. Perhaps you should just refuse to fight. What does it matter? You will be gone in two weeks at the most."

"I don't wish to be a coward, and I don't want to ever be the one to embarrass the Hiking Club."

"You won't be a coward to me. You came to this planet and you did everything, absolutely everything that you had to do to accomplish your assignment. So after maybe a week or two of some social discomfort you can take the serums triumphantly home. Where is the cowardice? I will never think of you as a coward."

"I will let you, Gary, and the club down."

"You will forget us in a year; we will be a dim memory."

"What will happen to you if I don't fight, Wilhelm?"

"Nonsense! You-"

"No wait . . . What will happen to you, Wilhelm?" Talbot leaned forward suspiciously.

"I will take care of Marcus myself." Wilhelm looked up at Talbot from under his heavy eyebrows.

"Why! That's crazy. You're much too old. He will kill you even quicker than me."

"I have to. It will be my responsibility. Don't worry about it. You do what you must do, and I will do what I must do. There is no disgrace."

Talbot straightened. "No! There is no way that I will let that happen. No. I'll see Marshall; see what he says. There has to be something."

Page: 1| 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | TOP | BOTTOM | PREVIOUS | NEXT

Talbot trotted the cobble-stoned streets, slowing only to show respect as he passed the shrine of All Mothers. Riverfront Street was beneath his feet in only half an hour. Narrow shops shouldered close together vying for attention. The agent's rundown bookshop blended in with other second hand merchandising businesses. Talbot could see the bent silhouette of the agent puffing on an equally bent cigarette through the glass. The man's clothing hung like drapery and his dark but thinning hair jutted at odd angles. He tapped on the door window three times before Marshall stirred his head to look and then come to the door.

####

The senior agent listened with unconcealed disgust written on his face while Talbot explained about the letter.

As soon as the young doctor finished, he said, "Talbot, tell me this. Haven't you been warned about consorting with the women here? Have we not explained it to you over and over that women get rich and powerful here by having sons and therefore they hunt down male child producers like hounds hunt rabbits? Are you stupid, sir?" He said it so violently that he spit the cigarette out on the floor.

"Yes, yes, Marshall, but I couldn't help it. If you saw it, you'd understand."

Another look of scorn twisted the senior agent's lips. "And how is it that you couldn't help it, Talbot? This should be good." While he waited for Talbot's answer he picked up the now flattened and bent cigarette and re-lit it.

Talbot hesitated. It was all so embarrassing and silly seeming now. "I, I, Well, We had just come back from making our rounds, she from the female wards and I from the male, and we got back into the examining room in her office. --You know?" Talbot raised his voice at the end trying to elicit even the smallest sympathy.

Marshall, arms folded, fingers of his hands scratched at opposite elbows, said, "Yeah. Yeah. Come on."

Talbot went on. "Well, Marshall, when we got back into her office and she shut the door and turned around. --You know?" The voice went up again.

Marshall examined his cigarette with suspicion and then picked something strange off the tip of his tongue.

Talbot went on. "Well, she turned around and . . . " Talbot gulped before going on. "Then she picked up her skirt and showed me her legs all the way ... her underthings ... I, I went all funny in my bones. I couldn't help it."

Marshall's features blanched and his hands fell to his sides. He cleared his throat. "Ahem. You mean. Now wait. You mean to tell me she showed you her, full, all the way to the top, legs, full, everything, just like that?"

Page: 1| 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | TOP | BOTTOM | PREVIOUS | NEXT

"Yes, Marsh, I swear it. It was unbelievable. I could see. I could see. It was.... It was just unbelievable. I had no control."

Now as shaken as Talbot, Marshall placed both hands on the table to steady himself. He looked up at Talbot. "That woman! They should arrest her or something. This is outrageous!" He shook his head before going on. "I'm sorry, Talbot. It was too much pressure for one as young as you. We should have foreseen the possibility of something like this. Should have passed the word somehow that you're sterile." Marshall frowned. "Oh well. What's done is done, I suppose. Now what? There is no way that you are going to fight a duel. What's the point of that?"

"I was getting close, Marshall. It's hard to be sure you have Swanson's isolated. Another week and I could have filtered the first batch. I know I have it."

Marshall grimaced with concentration as he delicately filled the center of another paper with tobacco. "All right, let's put this behind us . . . back to the problem." Marshall finished building the cigarette, lit it, stuck it between his lips, clasped both lapels of his vest, and paced the room thinking deeply. He stopped and pointed at Talbot to give his words import.

"OK, we get you out of here and start another doctor."

"No good. The new doctor would have to start all over again and might miss what I saw."

"That's true. How about Wilhelm? Can you train him?"

Page: 1| 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | TOP | BOTTOM | PREVIOUS | NEXT

"Can't do it. He's just a country healer by Garlon's standards. It would take too much time."

"Then why don't you just ignore the man's challenge and go about your business. Of course, you'd have to leave the club --maybe live here."

"Their ideas of honor will force Wilhelm to fight the duel in my place, and he will die."

"Then we lose him. What it looks like is that we either loose him or we loose you. You will have the serums. I'll just have to find another inside agent."

"I can't. There's no other way. The guys at the club will never be able to hold their heads up. I've got to fight and survive."

"The guys at the club! Be sensible; this Marcus is a soldier. Even Wilhelm can use a sword better than you; he's lived here all his life. I order you, Talbot, turn down that duel."

"Oh, God! I think I'm going to be sick." Talbot spun away with his hand over his mouth. " No, Marshall, I won't ... I can't," he said into his hand.

"Just who in hell do you think you're talking to, mister? You will not fight any damned duels. You are the only chance that millions of Swanson's sufferers have. Have you thought of that?"

"I've got to Marshall. Don't put Swanson's on me."

"It is on you. Why do you think you're here? Keep your priorities straight, boy."

"The club's honor. Wilhelm will get himself killed. God help me, I really haven't a choice." Talbot smiled weakly.

"If you do this you will never be able to show your face on Garlon again, Talbot. Because I am going to turn you in." Marshall's face had turned beet red.

Talbot bent over and his shoulders shook as if he were laughing. "It won't make a whole lot of difference anyway, will it?" he said as he turned and started for the door.

Page: 1| 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | TOP | BOTTOM | PREVIOUS | NEXT

"Maybe you can use your dancing skills somehow," Marshall called after him. He walked to the door and prevented Talbot from closing it behind him. "I've got a needle gun you could paralyze this guy with," he called to Talbot's back.

"Wouldn't be honorable, Marsh."

"Honorable? What the hell are you talking about? Tell a million Swanson sufferers about honor. You're crazy!"

"Guess so. God, I'm scared."

"Make sure we get your notes in the mail before tomorrow night, idiot," Marshall shouted after him.

I swear here and now, if I live through this, I will never, ever, ever, touch another woman as long as I live. I'm going to avoid even looking at them directly.

The remaining hours of the day spun by. Talbot wanted to reach up and stop the clock's hands with his own. He didn't sleep. The circumstances and possibilities turned and twisted in his mind's eye so often that his head ached. His smouldering brain offered no alternatives. When the windows turned light gray, he accepted that he would die and then he slept.

After regular patrons of the Boar's Head Inn left, a meeting at a side room convened. The innkeeper sent the bar and kitchen maids home early. Old members, representatives from both clubs, sat down for convivial discourse. Some hadn't seen each other for years. Old friendships were renewed. Hands were squeezed. Backs were clapped. Spirits ran high. Another duel; not much of one; how long had it been?

The proprietor, a balding man with a full beard and an enormous mustache, wiped his hands on his dirty apron in eager anticipation. He would earn at least two months' profits in sporting club contributions.

The excitement sharpened and sweetened the air of the Inn. The odds settled on seven to three for Marcus Aeroria. They had been at seven to four but whisperings from the Hiking Club side revealed that their champion could be heard throwing up.

This wine-soaked table in the room had seen many similar arrangements and served all of the men's sporting clubs of Barclay. They would continuously occupy the alcove until the matter reached its conclusion. The chief magistrate and the sheriff would drop in frequently as their individual duties allowed. This meeting would go on until the head second for each man delivered news of the outcome.

Toward morning, only a single candle glowed in the Boar's Head Inn. Shadowy shapes at the table exchanged stories of other honorable discussions from the past. Occasionally a loud guffaw rang out. Men from the various clubs of Barclay--having heard the message, "a duel, there's going to be a duel"--tapped at the backdoor for news throughout the night.

When he came down the stairs in the morning, Talbot found the main room full of men who should have been at work but who stayed to wish the young doctor well. Out of his sight, they shook their heads sadly. They liked Talbot.

Page: 1| 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | TOP | BOTTOM | PREVIOUS | NEXT

At the breakfast table, with some fanfare, Gary officially informed Talbot in a loud voice that the 'discussion' would take place at midnight at the usual place'. These men now took their coats and bags and trundled off to work. "Tonight, midnight, Lady Marlene's castle grounds," echoed and re-echoed as late comers showed up.

The day passed minute by precious minute. Each minute was born and then it died.

####

"No, no, no! Don't try to stand and fight. Move! Move!" the swordmaster shouted for the tenth time as Talbot practiced in the sunlight of a boisterously colorful afternoon. They stopped when the shadows became long.

"The grass will be wet and slippery tonight, Talbot. It is not unusual for a slip or a fall to take place. Watch ... be ready. It is your chance!" the swordmaster said as they parted.

He means that it is my only chance.

####

He sat near the door in the great room and the club members, home from work and their businesses now, left him alone to watch the darkness and listen to the crickets through the open windowpane. He noticed that as someone arrived, the insects stopped their calling only to restart when the disturbance passed. He contemplated the life span of crickets. How short and yet how much longer then he had left.

The first of his seconds arrived at eight that evening, a smooth-faced man no older than Talbot, the other three followed soon after.

At first they were full of hearty laughter and bluff jokes about the hapless Marcus, but as the hour drew closer reality covered their brave talk like a dark cloak of softening wool. Only one of them had actually seen a man die. The discussions became sporadic, the laughter more forced, and then, finally, conversation stopped altogether.

Talbot had no desire to speak or, for that matter, to listen. Gary held up a finger and forbid them all hard drink. Other club members began to gather silently at the front of the great room. They were all around him, but no one looked directly at him.

"Half past the hour," someone said.

They moved out onto the wide, front porch. There was not long to wait. A jingling in the distance. Talbot breathed deeply and closed his fists to warm his hands.

The jingle of horse harness. Iron wheels crunched pebbles in the darkened street. "It's time," someone said. It's time. It's time. Words gripping at his heart.

At first, he could see only the outlines of the coach and the team of blacks approaching in the moon-shadow of the tree-lined street. Bits of bright metal danced and twinkled, luminescent puffs of moist horse breath, and the crunch and creak of ironclad wheels on the cobblestone road, came for him. The coach, a strange creature of the night, came searching for one and one only, Talbot Lydia. The coachmen wore tophats.

####

They traveled to the appointed place in a carriage, which would arrive, through considerable practice, at the appointed time. Gary and the three seconds rode with him. They all had dressed as if for a formal dance. No one smiled or spoke now.

"Where, "--he cleared his throat--"where is my sword, Gary?" he whispered.

"Weapons will be provided, Mister Talbot," the little man answered and he reached over and patted Talbot's knee.

Page: 1| 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | TOP | BOTTOM | PREVIOUS | NEXT

It was a broad, moon-bathed clearing on a forested estate. Tall pine trees moaned and beckoned in the light wind. A single grave lay opened--for one, but large enough for two. Someone had cut the grass short--still slippery. Another carriage waited. Men stood dimly to one side. They turned to face the arriving carriage, their faces blank.

After they dismounted, the two groups approached to within ten paces. Talbot stood to one side and a figure in the dark hooded cloak of a soldier stepped to one side of the Hunter's Club group to face him. Wide stanced, stone still, the figure didn't move.

This is a dream. Not real, not real.

Gary and a man from the other group came together and turned to face the close-clipped circle. With practiced competence they pointed this way and that as they discussed. They had a carriage moved five paces. Twigs and branches were tossed, a shovel picked up and pushed into a carriage's luggage rack. Then the two men stepped away from each other and motioned to their individual parties.

Can this possibly be happening?

The groups came together between the coaches. Now faces were clear. The man who must be Marcus smiled with his mouth, but his eyes glittered with madness. He looked deep and unwavering at Talbot. His hair was light-colored and boyishly curly. Talbot could see the deep creases and the rugged but dimpled chin. It was face that, under other circumstances, would break into laughter at the smallest jest. He was in uniform, a soldier with a short leave to see his sweet love. A shocking, unexpected reception. Short hot words. A new lover's name haughtily thrown. She didn't know.

Talbot felt a reluctance to move. It was if his body became a statue.

One of Marcus's seconds stepped forth and stated the bill of complaint: "Is the man known as Talbot the Doctor here?"

A smothered guffaw escaped someone on the other side at the word 'doctor'.

"He is," one of Talbot's seconds answered with a clear threat in his tone. A mocking bird sang an intricate love song in the distance.

"Does he deny that he has had intimate relations with Hellene Milessa of Barclay the long time consort of one Marcus Aeroria? And . . . "

Death rustled a dusky cloak and brushed against Talbot's shoulder.

I will freeze. I must break this deadly lethargy or I will be killed in minutes.

His brain struggled to surface. Life itself tilted precariously. The bill of complaint droned on. In a moment now. Only a moment--then. A whisper, a thought?

Page: 1| 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | TOP | BOTTOM | PREVIOUS | NEXT

A plan. Any plan. Enrage the man. Make him throw caution to the winds! Perhaps he will waste energy or opportunity. At this point, where is the harm?

It took effort to get his hand to move, but once started he was freed. Talbot raised a careless hand. "Yes! Yes! I had relations with her and I enjoyed her immensely. Repeatedly. Now it's getting damned cool out here, are we going to get on with this or are lover-boy and I going to talk each other to death?"

There, at least they'll say the mouse had courage.

The soldier's eye's widened and his lips drew back from his teeth like a lion about to spring. The seconds including his own, stunned by the outburst, stared.

Talbot turned, dropping his cape as if in disgust, and began stretching and loosening his legs. When he turned back, one of the lover's seconds was offering him the choice of two swords. As he drew out the long curved blade the moonlight flashed and danced from tip to hilt. Talbot observed his hand, the long fingers, so useful, so beautifully crafted, so alive.

A long breath escaped him and a feeling, a feeling of vastly heightened awareness and yet also of relief. If I die, I die. His body tingled with it from head to foot. Hot blood, from who knows where, trickled through him, awakening every cell it touched. The air smelled like sweet wine. A fox barked in the distance and the sound of it tingled through his limbs and into his groin. Life.

They began the salute just as the swordmaster had taught him.

Touch high.

Touch low.

Engage.

Disengage.

Page: 1| 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | TOP | BOTTOM | PREVIOUS | NEXT

Marcus the lover, raised his eyebrows as they lowered their tips. An unpracticed attempt to look innocent, and Talbot knew that the man meant to disembowel him from the low touch. Talbot felt it and that feeling he knew was true as the night.

Marcus roared like a jungle beast as he whipped the point toward Talbot's groin. Talbot, ready, swept the attempt aside. The man's face went wild and twisted in rage and pain. He screamed through clenched teeth, spraying saliva, and his head jiggled with the hate of it. It was then that the doctor knew that he faced a man driven mad.

####

The lover comes like a raging cat, hacking, chopping.

Plant feet lightly. Turn body to expose the least. Keep feet light and moving. Short powerful hacks. Right down to the left. Left, down to the right. Fast. Very fast. Faster. Faster!

The lover is iron, expending all, gambling all on a quick kill. Talbot is silk. Flowing, riding the breeze, slipping the blade at the last blink. Now right. Now left. Lightly. Softly. Will-O-the-Wisp. Untouchable. Marcus, sucking breath, redoubles. Safety so long as the lover doesn't think.

The blades crashed far louder that Talbot had ever remembered. They rang and hammered and clanged--singing an ancient song. His wrist ached from the pressure of the madman's hammering blows. In a flicker of time, between blows, he saw the seconds and stewards frozen like statues. The cords of their necks distended and their lips drawn down as they screamed to their champion. And yet there was no sound except the banshee howl of steel on steel.

Riding the attacks like the water spider in the riffles on Bakers Brook.

Parry left, dance right.

Parry right, dance left.

His back. Entanglement! The coach's wheel! His back!

The lover's mouth opened in an "ah" of discovery. The revelation when victory first smiles. Sweat poised on his lip. His body steamed in the night's air.

They danced side-to-side now but not back-and-forth.

Now Marcus can match the dance! Hacking down to finish the healer.

Now Talbot must meet strength with strength. No match!

Hammering blows. Weakening parries.

"GIDDAP!" the Talbot shouted with all the strength he could muster while still parrying for his life.

The horses already white-eyed by the fearful clashing jolted into the harness and dragged the carriage against its brake.

Enough! He danced backward and found nothing but air. Free.

The lover exposes his chest face on and swings wide from the shoulder. He tires. He will soon become cautious and at therefore dangerous. If ever--now, before he recovers his reason.

Marcus, seeing a fleeting opening, shuffled forward. Rising like a dandelion puff, his arm arced lazily toward the moon. The bright steel of his saber blade glittered in moonbeams as it reversed direction.

Talbot remained within the deadly arc of the lover's sword. Now or never. He pushed off on his left foot obliquely forward and to the right pressing hard through the stiff air. His left hand moved right, reaching, opening. His right hand moved left. A narrow race against time.

Page: 1| 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | TOP | BOTTOM | PREVIOUS | NEXT

A glimpse of the statues behind Marcus. Their hands balled into fists. Their chests and faces pressed forward. Faces contorted with open lips rolled back and teeth tightly clinched. Now the night roared.

Marcus raised the elbow of his sword arm to bring the downward arc closer to his chest. His body began a turn to stay centered on the moving doctor. His hair stood out from his head in wet sticks. A halo of sweat droplets spun off and hung in the air. The lips snarled. They drew back from the upper teeth and pinched in the center to cover the lower. The eyes were wide, high, oval on top, flat across the bottom. His doeskin collar stood up about his ears. The rest of the shirt floated in horizontal pleats revealing his, bare, hairy stomach. The descending saber now even with the top of his head and on its way down.

Talbot's right hand opened and his saber stood alone, resting on the evening breeze. Now the darkened statues began to turn their heads. One had opened his teeth to shout again. Talbot's left hand in its flight caught up the floating sword and the fingers closed firmly. His right foot dug into the earth to aid the driving left leg and pulled him faster to the right and in a direction to carry his torso past Marcus, but not his new sword arm. The muscles in his left shoulder bulged and strained. Time ran away. The lover's sword neared. The left hand drove his sword point with maddening slowness toward Marcus's left chest.

Marcus, seeing the danger now, rose to his toes and attempted to change his hack to a parry in mid-stroke while twisting his chest away. His mouth changed from a snarl to an 'O'.

Now driving off his right foot. Talbot locked his sweaty grip on the saber and angled upward to counter the downward impact of the parry. The tip entered Marcus's flesh and crossed the first rib. Talbot could feel the varying softness and hardness as the point slid through. A small slick shudder in his forearm at the heart and the muscles of the back and then the grate of a rib and then the heavy resistance as the sword lifted the man's shoulder blade.

Page: 1| 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | TOP | BOTTOM | PREVIOUS | NEXT

Now as he spun, pulling his shoulders away, he heard the shouts of the handlers again.

At the same time Marcus twisted violently and tore the saber out of Talbot's hand. The lover's eyes turned downward and contemplated the object protruding from his chest. As his head came up the lover smiled as if he knew a secret. He raised his saber and waddled forward.

Talbot skipped a fast Peasant's Spring, first left then right. He could hardly turn and run away, though that thought entered his mind. Marcus grotesquely attempted to follow, but the sands of his time trickled away from him now. Talbot danced slower.

Marcus, staggering to face Talbot's ceaseless circling, lunged uncounted times, each time with less violence, until finally, with an agonized sob, he sank to his knees. His head, thrown far back, looked directly upward. But still he swept his sword occasionally at nothing.

The duel, this honorable discussion, was finished.

Talbot's stomach turned over; a sourness filled his mouth. With what he hoped was nonchalance, he replaced his cape. His shaking hands and club-like fingers refused to obey and so he just pulled the cape around his shoulders and held it fast from the inside.

Gary offered a sword. "Will you finish for the man, Master Talbot?"

When Talbot turned back, Marcus was on his hands and knees and his knees walked a patient circle around his hands. Despite herculean efforts to raise his head, the lover's head hung lower and lower.

Page: 1| 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | TOP | BOTTOM | PREVIOUS | NEXT

"No, Gary, I cannot do any more to him than I have already done." Talbot walked slowly to the carriage.

The man struggled on saying nothing, except one word: said only once, loud and startlingly clear:

"Helene!"

Talbot heard it; they all heard it.

The lover's companions, for the sake of decency, looked away. Resting on their haunches, with thoughtful faces, saying nothing, they tossed grass tufts into the air.

Sorry, Marcus. Your lover betrayed you, not I.

Keeping his teeth from chattering was hard. He clamped them tightly. Talbot felt cold and his whole body shook. Gary, finally drawn from the scene of the dying Marcus, noticed his distress. He called two of the seconds and they took him by the arms and lifted him to the carriage-step on the off side where the Fox Hunters couldn't see. The other handler arranged the lines of the coach for travel. Talbot breathed deeply to keep from passing out. But the window framed the death scene perfectly.

Out of respect they watched until the end. That was the way.

Marcus' seconds and their carriage driver passed a bottle.

The foaming, ragged, and struggling breaths grew shorter in length and longer between.

They spoke quietly together about other things. Each hoped the man would utter nothing else, make no request. One got up and stretched his back before taking a shovel from the luggage rack of the waiting carriage.

During the ride back they first said a prayer for the fallen Marcus. After the prayer, the mood turned jubilant, but not for Talbot.

"Aren't you just a friggen surprise?" was repeated often. Someone pulled a flask of brandy from his pocket. Talbot had no answer. He wanted sleep. As he fell asleep in the carriage, he resolved to put the lover from his mind.

####

Talbots' seconds could not agree on who would get the honor of telling the tale. In the end, all three of them and Gary went to the Boar's Head Inn to tell it. It would be a wonderful story of brave, mighty champions locked in mortal combat. Already the commemoration design drawn on the back of a playbill, passed back and forth across the wine-dampened table.

THE END

Page: 1| 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | TOP | PREVIOUS |