Chapter 35: Return

[Undated Entry]
At the stones, Oxford, Oxfordshire

“NOW, AMÉLIE, SANDRINE, Roger! Now!” With a shove Gérard sent them stumbling toward the nearest and tallest stone. He turned to face the two pursuers who moments before had abandoned their effort at stealth and began to run toward them. His heart raced even as his mind calmed. He’d faced more than one attacker before. In the beginning on the island his opponents were friends or became friends. Antoine and his companions, for example. The boys wrestled on the beach. Nude, their wrestling matches more than once turned to sex play, and more than one participant ended up with a faceful or a mouthful of cum. Laughing and happy, it should be added. When Amélie joined their frolics the wrestling became foreplay.

Later, there were more serious encounters. Some of the sailors in Captain Beauchamp’s crew needed instruction on who was boss and, more importantly, who was the defender of the young woman, Amélie, aboard Black Weasel. Only certain persons were permitted to socialize with her—Captain Beauchamp, the new crewmember Antoine, and the well-formed young man, Gérard, who was always with her. Between Beauchamp’s threats and Gérard’s imposing frame, all but two or three sailors decided the game was not worth the candle. The two or three who learned the hard way paid for the lesson.

The last rounds for Gérard were far more serious. Black Weasel was attacked by the crew of a privateer who had thrown away his letter of marq and decided to go into business for himself. Gérard was only a so-so sword and knife fighter but he was an expert wrestler and in the end more than one of the invaders found himself flipped into the sea before he’d had a chance to swing his weapon. Beyond a scratch or two Gérard had emerged unscathed. Two crewmembers were not so lucky. One had been killed immediately, and the second died of his wounds two days after the battle.

Now, Gérard realized, these two carried some kind of firearm far smaller and possibly deadlier than the muskets he knew from his own time. Despite the noise and the dancing they had no desire to call undue attention to themselves, and they had been successful in this until their movements in the direction of the four set their targets on alert. The two were also constrained by the crowds surrounding them. That was Gérard’s advantage.

The first one to approach him was cut off by a pair of nude women who were kissing everyone who crossed their path. The maidens in question were three or even four sheets to the wind from the alcohol and weed they had consumed during the afternoon and so were unmindful of who their targets might be. They bracketed the first member of the pair, “I don’t dance” George, and assaulted him with their tits and their hands, to put it baldly. Their interference was enough for Gérard to spin away, which is when he sent the other three quickly and urgently to the stone.

The senior man, Peter, was more agile than the first. He dodged around the unwilling and unintended threesome in front of him. He ignored the crowds, aimed his weapon, and fired. The bullet tore through the hat Gérard wore and smacked into a tree a few dozen yards beyond him. Instead of running, Gérard, foolishly, charged the man who was so surprised by this aggressive action that he hesitated instead of firing again. Gérard tripped him backwards. A swift kick in the head to stun him and Gérard ran for the stones to catch up with the others.