The Road to Coventre (Richard)

[Grace de Beaumont]

That smarted. Coupled with tiny sting of rejection when Richard moved her hands away, Grace ducked her head in shame. "I'm aware of that."

Stepping away, Grace walked around the skeleton beast again, dragging her hand along the white bone. Perhaps she could do like this creature, just lie down in a meadow until her body became nothing but bleached bone. It was a fleeting fantasy, and one Richard would undoubtedly call childish as well. Stopping before the large skull, she stared into the empty eye-sockets, trying to glean some answer from the ancient artifact. There was none.

Grace took a deep breath, took out the stowed headdress and tied her long hair back with it into a scarf. From this moment on, she vowed to the skull, I am two people: old-Grace and new-Grace. Old-Grace was a child, terrified and needy. New-Grace shall be an adult, serious and keeping on task. Because as he says, the time for self-pity is gone.

Grace intoned to herself, "cum essem parvulus loquebar ut parvulus sapiebam ut parvulus cogitabam ut parvulus quando factus sum vir evacuavi quae erant parvuli. 'When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things'."*

Grace pressed her lips into a grim line. "Right then. We should be getting back to Camelot. I have some letters to write -- I shall have to show my hand soon. Then we shall see." Already, the young woman was striding away across the meadow the way they had come in.

Hesitating, Grace stopped and glanced back at Richard. "Is this the way back to the road, or...?"


OOC: *1 Corinthians 13:11, the Christian Bible

[Richard Cabal]

"Cum essem paaar," he felt like somehow, he had offended her. It was in the grim line of her mouth and he supposed his last sentence had been harsh. But needful. He hoped he was hurting her out of need anyway. What he would give for Clarine to be beside him, able to be the soft to Richard's hard. The chatter to his silence.

"We can make better time cutting through brush that way," Richard pointed. "But not now. I thought this would be a grand place to teach you some basic blocking and attacks. With the dagger. Seems ye're also going ta teach me some language -- what was cum essem essem and so forth?"

[Grace de Beaumont]

A brief moment of irritation flashed through Grace; she wanted to be off and back to Camelot. But Richard was right -- this was the perfect place to practice with the dagger. It's not like I can do something like that on the streets of the city, being a girl.

"Very well," Grace sighed, setting aside the parchment and still-wet wimple. The woman turned her back to Richard to rummage through her clothes, pulling free the belt and dagger, settling it over her long tunic. She flicked the dagger several times in and out of the sheath, then popped it more forward and back along her wrist. Though it could be vanity, Grace thought she was getting pretty good. She'd practiced every moment possible, even when at work at the apothecary shop.

"However, one stipulation, and on this I will hold firm. Teach me all you know about defense but I want nothing to do with 'attack'." Averting her eyes lest she start an argument, Grace added, "There's plenty enough of that in the world."

As she fingered the dagger, Grace was puzzled over Richard's curiosity. Perhaps he's just being polite? "Tis Latin, the language of prayers for the Church. Also of the written word for scholars and physicians, politicians and those involved in the law. Most books are in Latin." An idea dawned. "I shall teach you to read," declared Grace with finality. "It's high time you learned anyway. You are teaching me the dagger; I shall teach you written Latin." Grace gave the man a wry half-grin, "I doubt you will want to know oral Latin -- unless you want to pray aloud to the Christian God?"

[Richard Cabal]

Defense leads to attack. Richard thought but he inclined his head. His goal was to stop his lass from being killed, not turn her into a warrior. It seemed she would have no taste for it. Briefly, he wondered what she thought of him. Paid to kill.

Grace's suggestion delighted him. To learn to read! Read an important language of all things. He would love to read scholarly work, he knew that some druids had taken to copying their knowledge down in hopes of bringing more people to the Old Ways, or to bridge the gap between the Old and the New.

"I would like that," his calm words didn't hide his excitement. "Teach me oral too . . . please. I might not follow the way, but that be no excuse ta avoid it. Its here, it will stay and people find comfort in it. T'would be arrogant to think it is beneath me." Richard grinned at Grace and then drew his dagger, sobering himself.

"Alrigh'. I'll teach you to defend yourself against a thrust to the neck," he slid forward and jabbed the dagger towards Grace's neck. "And a slice across your stomach." Richard followed the attack through, twisting the dagger so it stuck out towards his arm and slicing backwards.

"They're the two vulnerable areas in your body. A deep cut in your stomach is hard ta heal and the internal organs are unprotected by bone. If you cut the hard part of your neck," Richard touched the place to show Grace what he meant. "You'll breathe there an' die. There's also a bloody spot here," he touched a place lower in his neck. "Cut that and you'll bleed out fast." Richard hesitated now, not wanting to upset Grace.

"I know ye don't want to attack. But I need to teach you a few places to hit that will stop a person from attackin' ye further. It wont kill them, just disable them until they can tend to it. Do you mind?"

[Grace de Beaumont]

Blinking in surprise, Grace looked closely at Richard, his reaction to her offer to teach him to read completely unexpected. She honestly thought he'd fight the matter, reacting to schooling rather like her brothers had, groaning through lessons, wanting to be outside and at the practice grounds rather than near a book. The older man's obvious delight at the idea was strangely charming.

But Richard charged on with the dagger lessons and Grace had no more time to think. With this, it was more a matter of reacting than any laid plan. Her body jerked slightly in reaction to Richard's practice strokes. Listening intently as he pointed out the vulnerable places on the body, Grace felt herself grow clammy at the idea of striking another so badly, it could kill.

The young woman's fingers touched her own neck, feeling the fluttering beneath the skin. "I heard a physician once say this place was where the Life blood flowed. And here." Grace touched her wrist. "Blood in other parts of the body is not as important; the Life blood is special. To lose it quickly is to die." Looking down at her own dagger, she ran her finger over the coldness.

"No, please go on, I don't mind. It seems.... proper that I should at least know something of this."

[Richard Cabal]

"Hmph, I didn't know about the wrist." Richard filed that little tidbit of information away. "I wouldn't call it proper. Needful, more like." Tossing his head as if banishing the start of discomfort, Richard pointed to his fingers.

"Stab the hand that holds the dagger. The fingers or the back of the hand. Even if they push through the pain, the blood makes it all slippery." He pointed to the back of his hand where there was a thin scar. "Tha' was just a shallow cut but it made fightin' tha' much more difficult." He then gestured to his legs.

"Legs are also a good place to stab. Armour doesn't extend to there so it will always be somewhat exposed. Speaking of, if yer attacker is male, it isn't beneath ye to kick him 'twixt the legs. I assure you, it hurts. Now, repeat back to me."

[Grace de Beaumont]

Grace's jaw dropped open, her eyes boggling. "RICHARD!" Flustering a moment or two, she tried to bring her mind back on task. "Alright, repeating what you said. Places to cut -- the neck, and stomach. Also try to cut the dagger hand because it will be slippery. Cut the legs too because they are not covered by armor."

Grace bit her lip in consternation, her face flaming as she added, "And... and kick a man between the legs because... it hurts." In complete disregard for what their mistress most wanted NOT to happen, Grace's eyes dropped to look at the lower part of Richard's body before flickering to the side in extreme embarrassment.

"Next part of the lesson please?" she added primly. Grace gripped the knife tighter, sincerely hoping Richard did NOT want her to practice any kicking.

[Richard Cabal]

Richard had to bite the inside of his tongue to keep from laughing as Grace blushed and looked from his groin and then away from him. The urge to tease was strong but that would be improper. Shaking his head slightly, he flipped the dagger he held so it faced towards Grace.

"I'm going to thrust towards ye ok? You should react naturally. I want ta see what ye do first." Richard thrust sharply towards Grace's stomach, preparing to pull back in case her reaction was slow or weak.

[Grace de Beaumont]

Grace squeaked and jumped back, throwing her hands up. "WAIT... WAIT! Richard!" Extremely exasperated and no small bit worried, Grace blathered on. "What if... if I hurt you? Or you me? Shouldn't we... you know, practice with wood sticks or something?" Grace remembered finding her brother's wooden swords at one point, pieces they'd used as children but had long since discarded by the time Grace could walk. She'd spent one afternoon happily playing with them until her mother had discovered her and primly took them away. 'Sword-work is not for little girls', Isabel de Beaumont had chided.

[Richard Cabal]

"We would if we had the time, but we don't. Ye need to get used to that blade. Now, I promise I wont hurt ye badly and you wont hurt me badly. If we get scratches, well, I imagine it no use worse then being stabbed with a needle."

"I'm going to do this again. Use that blade!" Richard thrust towards her stomach again.

[Grace de Beaumont]

Grace sighed. What he said made sense, they were in a rush for Grace to learn this but....

The large man gave her no time; he was moving fast again, the dagger in his hand swinging forward with alarming speed. Grace could hardly see it and acted on instinct, stabbing her own dagger hand forward in an attempt to block. The impact of blades jolted her arm and the blade flew from her fingers to the grass.

Scowling, Grace bent immediately to retrieve it. "Not holding it tight enough," she grumbled to herself, fingering the handle to get a better grip. Staring intently at Richard's dagger-hand, Grace nodded. "I'm ready. Do it again."

[Richard Cabal]

Richard showed Grace how to use the cross guard as a defense. He didn't show her how to twist it, making her attacker lose grip on his own dagger. That little maneuver was difficult. Then it was how to 'slap' the other dagger, sending it off course. He kept telling her, dodge. If you can do it, dodge. You're -- forgive me -- weaker than the usual fighter. But you can make up with speed. Finally, he called a break and started to set up a proper camp.

"On the other side of the skull is a thin trail. It'll take ye to fresh water. If you can fill this tin of water and bring it back, you can go back and wash yourself in the stream." Richard picked up the tin, dented in places, and passed it to her.

"Can you teach me to read tonight?"

[Grace de Beaumont]

Grace was breathing hard after Richard called a halt. Carefully, she sheathed her dagger, hands shaking from fatigue. Despite the cold of the air, there was damp around her hairline and throughout her clothes from sweat and her knees were trembling.

"Very well," she replied, trying to put forth a brave voice. How in the world did men do this for hours? And enjoy it?? Taking the cup, Grace did as Richard asked, bringing back water. Her senses were too dull to note much of what he was doing; her brief time at the spring filled Grace with a desire to be clean.

It was some minutes later Grace sat by the water, hair braided and knotted out of the way, a wet cloth running over her face and neck. Cold it was, very cold but soothing at the same time. Glancing behind to make sure she was still alone, Grace peeled down her tunic and chemise, watching her skin quickly against the chill air. As she washed, Grace tried to imagine the hardships of the past few days flowing away with the sweat and dirt. It felt good.

Some time later, Grace walked back to the clearing, feeling a bit better. "I don't suppose you have anything to eat?" she ventured hopefully.

[Richard Cabal]

While Grace was gone, Richard had started up the fire and was heating the water with it. Little bubbles were rising in the water by the time Grace returned. In response to Grace, Richard pulled out cooked, dried and salted beef, tossing a slice to her.

"That for now. We have some proper stuff on the way. Vegetables and such. Mind the water? When its boiling put the food in. I'll find us some meat." He unbuckled his sword, laying it by his pack and replaced it with a quiver and his bow. With that he set off.

It wasn't long before he returned with a rabbit. It was already skinned and gutted, Richard's hands were bloody from the work. After he cut the rabbit into strips, he laid them on a much used pan and put that over the fire.

"That should cook fast enough." He checked the vegetables and then told Grace he would wash himself. The blood on his hands coupled with sweat from the hunt and practice made him feel distinctly unsavory. He washed quickly out of sight. Scrubbing his hands and spiking his hair back. His clothes were damp from his skin when he returned. There was a chill in him, quickly banished by sitting near the fire. The sun was beginning to set. Richard noted the colours on the skull and plant life.

"While the food cooks, teach me?" He knew he was pestering Grace but he wanted to learn something before they turned in.

[Grace de Beaumont]

Grace smiled warmly when Richard returned, glad of his company. While he had been gone, the clearing had seemed a lonely place and the great heap of bones did not help her feelings of unease.

Taking the dried beef, she bit off a corner and chewed thoughtfully. "Well.... just as I cannot learn the dagger in one evening's work, you cannot learn to read with only one lesson. You'll need to learn your letters first."

Scraping away dead leaves and grass, Grass cleared a patch of dirt and finding a stick, began to draw. "There are twenty-three letters in the Latin alphabet. Letters are individual symbols representing 'sounds'. You put the letters or sounds together to make words." Scratching in the dust, Grace motioned to the man. "Move over here so you can see better. This is the first letter, it is called 'A'. See how I'm making this?" Grace drew again, then handed Richard the stick. "Now you try."