Chapter 16

Francine walked back to Gottman at the end of another round in which she had mainly kept up her tactic of using her speed to stay out of trouble. She was hating this and wanted to stay in close and get in a few punches, even if it did mean taking some heavy shots from Augusta. She wasn't afraid of HER any More!

"What round is it now, Gottman. I'm starting to lose count. We'll never get home by nightfall at this rate! Can't I try and finish it? "

"Round Fifteen, Francine. And, no - you mustn't rush things. I think you are beginning to get the upper hand, but stay out of trouble still. I know you want to fight her, but it's not time yet. She's a cunning bitch and won't give up without a struggle. Never get over confident with Augusta."

Francine nodded her bruised head. If Gottman said keep out of trouble, she had to obey. And the man was only talking sense. She had had many reminders of just how formidable this lady was in the last eighty odd minutes! Enough to last a lifetime. But she was going to destroy her before she left to return to the Palace. After nearly an hour and a half she was beginning to feel tired. More tired than she could remember ever being in the whole of her short life. But she knew that Augusta, ten years her senior and carrying too much surplus weight, was not the woman she had been at the start.

For the last couple of rounds Francine had tried trading a few punches before dancing out of danger again and she was conscious that, hard as she was being hit, her own blows were almost as effective by this stage as were the other woman's. And she was definitely hurting Augusta's belly. Really hurting it! It felt good for Francine to hear her foe gasp and splutter as her bloody fists slammed into that fat gut!

It was the state of Francine's hands that most concerned Gottman. They were already bruised, sore and swollen with the skin on all her knuckles broken. But she assured him she was fine and her fists would last twice as long again as she had already fought.

"Ten times, Gottman. Ten times as long!"

But her hands throbbed all the time now and she had to put out of mind how awful they would feel when, after Heaven alone knew how much longer, this awful bloody fight was over. If only she had been allowed to wear the leather strips. But Francine knew regrets were pointless. She had a job to do and if her bare hands were all she had to do it with - so be it!

"Try to look, Frederica! " said the Lady Fortescue, sitting next to her favourite servant in the stand. "I know it's hard for you to see your darling get so dreadfully hurt, but Warrior Slave Francine is having to go through all this. The least you can do is watch!"

A tearful Frederica nodded and forced herself to watch Francine come out for the fifteenth round, with Augusta looking as solid and impregnable as ever. But Lady Fortescue had been to a lot of these events and had seen Augusta in action many times. The big woman had never been taken this far before. She was slowing up, bit by agonisingly painful bit. Agonisingly painful for Francine, that was for sure. Her battered Warrior Slave seemed to walk straight into Augusta's best punch for quite some time.

But Francine stood her ground, a brave and fearless figure and she started to soak up all that Augusta could throw at her. There were five rounds like this and Francine stayed on her feet and returned Augusta's shots blow for wicked blow.

Frederica was full of admiration but horrified at the way the blood was pouring out of at least twenty cuts on Francine's face and body, for Augusta had not neglected to punish her friend in the breasts and stomach as well as the head. But Francine came through and when she went back to Gottman at the end of Round Twenty, walking as firmly as ever, in contrast to Augusta's slow-paced return to her comer, the Great Lady Fortescue whispered to Frederica.

"She's through the worst of it, my sweet Frederica. Now it's going to be more fun for you to watch. Believe me! The bitch will win, but look at that face. What a mess! "

The Mistress was a bit on the optimistic side, though and for ten more rounds, as the crowd became utterly silent in the face of this awful battle as it went back and forth, with first one and then the other seeming to have the edge. Neither was going to be an oil painting after this. Augusta had never been hurt like this before, and Francine hadn't finished with her yet! She intended paying Augusta back with interest for the damage this lump of blubber had done to her previously exquisite features!

Both women looked to be wearing red gloves by this time and Frederica winced at the thought of the state those once lovely hands must be in. But Francine stood as tall as ever and looked every inch the winner. Augusta was definitely tiring quickly at the end of round thirty.

"Go for it from now on Francine." ordered Gottman. "Just get in close and trade punches. Never mind getting hit. All her power's gone. She can't knock you out now! Get in there and end it!"

And a weary but willing Francine did just as she was told. This was the kind of order that was music to her ears! It took her five more rounds to finish it, but, as the sun was setting, Augusta finally fell and she did not get up for many long minutes.

Francine raised her arms in triumph and went as if to stand on her defeated opponent. But she just put one foot briefly on Augusta's stomach and left it at that. This had been a valiant fighter and she must not be humiliated. She bent down to make sure Augusta was still alive and was mightily relieved to see that she was. To frenzied roars that made Frederica cover her ears for fear of being deafened, Francine walked many times around the arena being cheered, cheered and cheered again, until a sign from her Mistress indicated that it was time to leave.

"Well done, Warrior Slave Francine. I must say you took your time. But I suppose you got there in the end."

And Frederica saw a tear trickle down that bruised and damaged face out of one of those almost closed and blackened eyes. Poor Francine! She had just been through hell for the honour and financial salvation of her Mistress and this was all the thanks she got. She could have been killed out there by the mighty Augusta. The brave Warrior Slave deserved better thanks than this.

Lady Fortescue saw the anger in Frederica's face and the pain in Francine's and felt shame. After all said and done, Francine's hard won and bloody victory had just paid off all the debts owing for the next three months.

"I'm sorry, Francine. I really am. I've never seen such bravery as you displayed today. Against Augusta you were lucky to survive, let alone win. You are my finest Warrior Slave. The finest on the whole planet, whether man or woman! Please forgive me. How would you like to ride back with me. Hold on to me if you feel tired. Help her onto the horse, Frederica!"

Bur Francine was in no condition to ride. She might have seemed superhuman in the Arena, battling away through the height of the day and into the deepening evening gloom but, in the end, she was only flesh and blood and had given her all -and much more - to the contest. She tried to mount the horse and fainted. Loss of blood and several hours sustained physical effort had totally exhausted her. They put her in the cart and Frederica cradled her poor bruised body for the entire journey. She was put to bed in Frederica's apartment and slept for two days.

They brought a mirror in for her as soon as she got out of bed. Her face was starting to heal but the cuts still looked red and deep. And her nose was ruined. If she tried to touch it, it was agony. Furthermore, she had difficulty breathing through it, so badly had Augusta mashed it up,

A surgeon came to examine her and told her an operation was needed to restore it.

"You'll never look the same as before, Francine. But I can clear the airway and repair some of the damage. Are you ready for it or will you wait?

"Whenever you think I'm ready, Doctor. Do it today if you like!"

"You realise you won't be given anaesthetic, don't you Francine?" said Frederica, who was as ever in attendance at her friend's bedside.

"Of course I do, darling. And I say do it whenever you like. I am not afraid."

So her nose was re-set later that day, the pieces of bone being put back together again. In time it was to look almost handsome once more and Francine was always to draw admiring glances from men and women alike, for her body grew stronger all the time. She was nowhere near the peak of her fitness as yet. Many years of victories lay ahead of her.

Four days after the fight, Francine went back to sleep chained in the cellar. The Lady Fortescue had resumed her former loathing for her finest Warrior Slave and the first post victory flogging took place the same day.

Francine's next appearance was in a rapier fight against an indifferent opponent. Her skill as a swordswoman was not common knowledge. The crowd had seen her wear down and destroy Augusta who was still in hospital -or what passed for hospital for Slaves - and the odds were not so good as in her first appearance. Lady Fortescue was happy enough with her winnings nonetheless.