The Rapier and the Doa

Subject: The Rapier and the Doa August 29th 2010, 9:00 pm

The following story has been rated PG-13 for the use of violence, strong language, sensual words, heavy drinking, seppuku, men in skirts, men in velvet, men in lace, and Spanish horses mocking Chinese horses.

The early Chinese sun rose slowly in to the sky. The smell of food soon filled the small village air of Ling Xao. A pair of men walked down the street, however, by their dress they were obviously foreigners. They were both dressed in a European fashion.
The taller one had long brown hair tied back in a ponytail by a leather strap. Most of his head was covered by a wide brimmed hat with white and black feathers making the plume. He had a childish face, though his demeanor was that of a hardened criminal. Bright green eyes lit up his face, making it full of life and laughter. A very dark brown suede and green-gray canvas doublet with silver studds was worn over his tan shirt, clasped on by pewter clasps that were intricately engraved. The same color canvas gave the material for his trousers that were neatly tucked in to a pair of knee high boots made of what one could easily assume was Irish Leather. A beautiful rapier hung by his side, on the guard were the words "Dia dom a chosaint, agus Máire agus Patrick guigh orm" which translated out of Gaelic in to "God protect me, and Mary and Patrick pray for me.". Also on his side was a wheellock pistol, that may very well have been loaded and ready to fire if needed.
The other man, slightly taller was garbed in red velvet, and though his dark brown hair was not as long, he had grown a full goatee. Brown eyes kept the Englishman from looking as happy and light hearted as his Irish counterpart. He too wore a hat that had green, red and black feathers on it's side. A rapier hung on his right side and a pistol on his left. Slightly shorter boots came up to just barely past his calves.

"Blessed Christ!" cried the Englishman as a group of mounted horsemen came barreling in to the village. He pulled the Irishman to the side and out of the way. They fell back on to the dusty ground, as even more dust was kicked up from the horses. Once the horsemen had passed, the Europeans picked themselves up.

"Art thou well Francis?" asked the Irishman as he dusted himself off and returned his hat to his head as it had fallen off during the short chaos.

"Tis so good Fintan, and thyself?" Francis replied.

"By the luck of Clare and Grace of God I am. What tis the thought in their heads to come though as such!" He stated more than asking.

"By their..." The Englishman cocked a brow as he looked at the horsemen. "Armor, and the crest they carry I would say they are Imperial Soldiers."

"I care not if they are the Papal Guard, they've not the right to rush in with out a battle being so near. Damned Asians!" He reached for his pistol with the intent of teaching them manners in his own fashion. However, Francis stopped him before it could be drawn.

"Noble Irishman, forget not we are but seven of company. Whilst they are many. Draw not thy pistol lest thou have the shot for another thousand! Let us instead go and hear their words, for I do see Fa Zhou, perhaps he will be kind enough to translate the words of yonder herald." He was apparently speaking about more Europeans who had come with them, but remained behind. The Irishman growled but pushed his pistol back to its resting place, and removed his hand. The two walked over to the crowd that had gathered.

"Good morrow Noble Zhou." Fintan said as he walked up to an old Chinaman. He wore a light blue silk robe. A walking cane in his hand to help with his limp from a wound sustained in battle. His graying hair was held in a traditional top knot. His aging face showed happiness when the Irishman patted his shoulder and he smiled from under his Fu Manchu.

"Honorable Fintan and Francis of Europe. It is Honor to see you again" He bowed shakily. But Francis helped him up from the bow.

"I ask in the Name of Our Merciful Lord thou bow not to us, we are but simple men of the sword. It is we who bow to such a courageous veteran of the warring arts." Both Fintan and Fionoch removed their hats and bowed to the veteran.

"You show me great honor, and I shall return it" The man bowed again, feeling as if he would be dishonored if he did not. The three men rose from their bows at the same time.

"Pray thee Noble Zhou, speak to us of what these heralds to say, for they nearly did claim our lives by the hoof as they did rush in. We wish to know of what is such great importance." Fintan asked as a man in a blue silk robe started to speak from a scroll.

"Aaah, he say "A great army has breached the Great Wall, and heading for Imperial City. Every family must give one man to serve our great Emperor."

The hearald was calling out names of the families in the village. Everyone who stepped forward were the eldest sons of the family.

"...Thou hath not a son" Francis said as he looked at Zhou while the names were being called out.

"the Fa Family" the herald called. Fintan went to stop Zhou from walking forward, knowing anymore fighting would end his life, but before he could, a young woman stepped in front of both of them. Fintan and Francis could not understand what she said, but she had the feeling that it was along the lines of "He has served the Emperor, why should he have to serve again?". Zhou pulled the woman's arm, trying to get her to move, but as he did the soldiers drew their swords and pointed them at the woman's throat.

"You dare speak in front of men?!" the herald cried.

"Thou dare to threaten a woman?" Fintan said in a mock voice as he pulled his pistol and rapier, the sword pointed at a soldier and the pistol at the herald. Francis followed suit and did the same. The extra soldiers who had come drew their swords and went to strike at the Britishmen

"Aye, what's this then lads?" A large man with very long loose brown hair, as well as a full and unkempt looking beard, stepped forward. He had apparently been listening silently from a distance and came forward when he saw his comrades with drawn blades. He stood at least six feet seven inches, he looked as if he was comprised strictly of muscles, looking about two and fifty hundred pounds or more. His clothing was perhaps the strangest in the Chinese Empire. It was lacking in flamboyance of the other two, but made a statement of force and power. A dark brown shirt that laced up at the neck. The shirt's sleeves were gathered at the cuff by two black bracers. Bare legs showed boots that came to his calves. A golden broach kept a throw over on his shoulder. The throw over led down to his bottom. To cover what the Lord graced him with on his birth - a tartan kilt. On his back rest a claymore that the Scotsman was drawing as he walked forward.

The Chinese soldiers' eyes widen in fear as they backed away from the woman and other two Europeans. They saw the size of him and the size of his sword, the sword itself was as large as they were, and were struck with fear. The herald however was not as cowardly, or perhaps it was as smart, and thought his nobility would protect him from the chivalrous Scot. He cried out loud enough for all to hear. "This woman has dishonored her family by insulting the Emperor! She clear..." he was cut off by the much louder Scotsman.

"She clearly isn't anything like the lassies from Scotland. Ye pull a sword on one of them and they'd take it from ye, kill ye with it, cut off ye nuts and feed them to the hogs!" At these words he looked around and saw a pigpen. "Shall I give her me dirk and let her have at ye? If ye got anything there to be cuttin' off that is." Everyone, including the soldiers, laughed at the words. Everyone except the herald that is, who took offence to it as it was meant to do.

"You dare to threaten an Imperial Scribe!" The scribe was outraged at the insolence of the Scot

"I dare to threaten an ass upon a horse!" The Scot was clearly not to fond of the scribe.

"Enough please, cause no more dishonor here." Zhou was not enjoying this. "I thank you Honorable Fintan, Francis and Douglass for your intervention with my daughter. It is honor to serve the Emperor." He bowed and accepted the scroll that admitted him in to the army. Then with the help of his wife and daughter returned to his home.

The Europeans scowled at the scribe, sheathed their blades and took off walking out of the village.
"Pray thee Fintan, art thou for a pay?" Francis asked as they walked down a well traveled path to where their camp was.

"Tis so Francis, and I am sure the others are as well." He gritted his teeth, he could not stand to see anyone threaten a woman, and saw it as disrespect as they saw it as dishonor for her to have spoken. He was also afraid for Zhou, he knew very well he would not even survive training. Even if he did, the march to a battle would take too great a toll, battle would end him. Zhou saw it as honor, but Fintan saw it as suicide .

"I wouldn't mind giving that wee penman a good beating." Growled Douglass

Fintan and Francis only nodded in agreement, neither one wanting to get in to that right now. Tensions were high with the trio because of what they saw. The long path seemed longer because of the anger.

Finally, the Scot spoke. "Give us a song Fintan, maybe it will cool the tensions."

Fintan was a skilled singer, as well as harp and mandolin player. He typically sang songs to help brighten the spirits of himself and comrades as they moved from place to place. He laughed and nodded.

As I walked by the dockside one evening so rare,
to view the sea water and take the salt air,
I spied an old sailor singin' this song,
Oh take me away lads me time is not long.

Wrap me up in me oil skins and blankets,
No more at the dock I'll be seen,
Just tell me old ship mates, I'm taking a trip mates,
I'll see ya some day on Fiddler's Green.

Now Fiddler's Green is a place I've heard tell,
where sailors do go if they go not to Hell,
The weather is fair and the dolphins do play,
and the damned coast of Norway is far, far away.

Wrap me up in me oil skins and blankets,
No more at the dock I'll be seen,
Just tell me old ship mates, I'm taking a trip mates,
I'll see ya some day on Fiddler's Green

Now when your in dock and the long trip is through,
There’s bars and there’s pubs and there’s lassies there too,
The girls are all pretty, and the beer is all free,
and there’s bottles of rum groin’ on every tree.

Wrap me up in me oil skins and blankets,
No more at the dock I'll be seen,
Just tell me old ship mates, I'm taking a trip mates,
I'll see ya some day on Fiddler's Green

Now I don’t want a harp nor halo not me
Just give me a breeze and a good rovin’ sea
I’ll play me old squeaze box as we sail along,
With the wind in the riggin’ a-singin’ the song.

Wrap me up in me oil skins and blankets,
No more at the dock I'll be seen,
Just tell me old ship mates, I'm taking a trip mates,
I'll see ya some day on Fiddler's Green

The song he sang did just as it was intended to, cheer Douglass and Francis up and helped them forget about what had happened. The song lasted most of the trip back to camp, but from the point in the path where the song ended they could hear a song in another language being sung. The language sounded Italian being sung by a woman. The three Britions continued on their path following the sound of the song.