8 Trial by Combat

No one moved for a beat, then a young boy scrambled to his feet and ran off, presumably to get the king. "Kneel." I said to Svend and Birger. When they did, the dog also sat politely.

After a moment or two, King Hrothgar emerged from the war tent, followed by Prince Vilhelm.

"What is the meaning of this?" Bellowed Hrothgar. We stood some ways apart, across a clearing in the middle of the camp.

I spoke clearly in the morning air. I've no doubt that everyone listening could hear me. "I have been following the men you sent in search for me. Before I captured them, I heard them say that the man who accused my father of murdering King Armand is not to be trusted!"

The crowd murmured in confusion at this statement.

I pressed on. "They say that Gregor was in a drunken stupor the night the Old King died, and probably fell asleep while on guard, then blamed his failure to protect the king on my father - an easy scape-goat, considering he left for home the night before."

The accusation hung in the air.

"Is it true?" said Hrothgar. "Did you say this?"

Svend spoke up. "I always thought tha' Frode dinna harm King Armand. An' Gregor has always been a drunk." many of the older soldiers murmured in agreement at this.

In what I thought, at the time, was a moment of brilliance, I said, "By all the Gods and Goddesses, I call upon my right as a warrior to a trial by combat. The victor shall have the favor of truth on her side!" I said, implying my own victory.

King Hrothgar shouted back, "You think to challenge me, woman?" The crowd grew silent.

Prince Vilhelm held up a hand. "King Hrothgar, she cannot challenge you. The right of trial by combat is for the accused to fight the accuser - which would be Gregor." a sly smile crept onto his lips. "Someone go get him." almost as an afterthought he said, "and bring her Frode's sword."

Hrothgar and I regarded eachother across the clearing. I saw the evidence of old pain in his eyes, although he hid it well. I think the only reason I recognized it was because I was an orphan as well. Even though we were adversaries in this moment, I felt my heart soften toward him. I gave him a sad smile.

The young boy who went to fetch the king brought me Father's sword and scabbard. I set down the weapons of Svend and Birger, and buckled the belt into place. Father's sword felt right in my hand, and it was fitting that I would use it to clear his name.

There was a bit of a commotion at the back of the camp. It almost sounded like a bear being woken from its winter sleep. I gripped the sword tighter and held it ready.

Out of the crowd came the biggest man I had ever seen. He looked like a bear! His broad chest and arms were covered in thick black hair, his beard was wild and untamed. His small, bloodshot eyes burned with hate.

"Who calls me a liar?" he boomed across the field. "What man dares?"

My mouth went completely dry. This was the man that I had to fight? He looked like he could split a log with his bare hands! I cleared my throat. "It is I-" I squeaked. I cleared my throat again. "It is I, Agatha, daughter of Frode! I have come to fight for the honor of my father, and the truth!"

The giant looked at me incredulously, then threw his head back in laughter. "This small girl wants to fight me? Prince Vilhelm, you must be playing a joke."

The Prince raised a wry eyebrow, "Oh it's no joke, Gregor. She says you fell asleep drunk the night my father died."

Gregor turned on me, drawing his sword. "Who told you that, whore? I'll have their head!"

Svend and Birger trembled from their position on the ground, but I stepped in front of them. "It doesn't matter who said it, but it gives me the right to challenge you to a trial by combat. The Gods and Godesses will decide who tells the truth!" I brandished my sword at him. "By that right, I challenge you Gregor, to fight for your honor."

Gregor gave a war-shout, which definitely sounded like a bear's roar. "To the death, then, bitch!" With that, he charged. I walked three steps forward, then waited for him to meet me. I held my ground until his sword began to swing for my throat, then I dove to the side and somersaulted behind him. I popped up sword drawn and swiped at his Achilles tendon. He was quicker than he looked and moved his foot just in time, but I took a slice off his heel. He howled in pain and tried to slam his sword down on the top of my head. I dodged just in time. The tip of his sword bit deep into the earth. Before I could press the advantage, he swept his sword up and I just barely blocked it. The strength of him almost disarmed me, and I took several steps back, hands stinging from the blow, and again readied my sword.

Gregor laughed. "This little girl thinks she can fight like a man! I'm glad I get a chance to put her in her place." Some of the crowd laughed with him.

His remarks didn't even register. I was too busy trying to find an advantage. I was faster than him, and likely more flexible. He seemed to be muscle bound. He also had a big stomach, so I bet I had more endurance too. It would all depend on if I could wear him out, or if the crushing blows of his sword would kill me first. While he was still laughing, I sprung forward, needling him in the stomach and darting back. It wasn't a mortal wound, at least not immediately, but it would slow him down a bit.

Or not! I thought to myself as he roared with rage and sliced his sword at my face. I barely got back in time. He sliced off a piece of my hair! I whirled around him and came at him from behind, trying to cut the back of his leg. He seemed to be expecting this, and pivoted on his foot, catching me on my right arm, just under my shoulder.

I was too battle-mad to feel pain, exactly, but it did burn, and the fingers of my right hand were going numb. Blood dripped off as I changed to my left hand.

Gregor stalked toward me. "Make your peace, whore. This fight is to the death."

Drawing on the six months of practice I spent forceing myself to use my left hand while it healed, I charged forward with a yell. Gregor stepped back with a shocked look on his face. Our swords clashed together as he blocked my first sweep, but I could tell he had never fought a left-handed opponent. Again and again I attacked him, and he just barely got his sword up in time. I was tiring him, but the field was growing red with my blood. Finally I screamed and sliced right at his throat with all my strength.

He stopped in his tracks with a shocked expression, and the moment hung in the air for an eternity.... then his head slid off his shoulders onto the ground. The corpse fell to his knees, then fell forward with a thud.

I cleaned father's sword on the edge of my chemise, then turned to address the crowd. I stared into Hrothgar's eyes while I spoke. "The Gods and Goddesses have spoken. My father is innocent." Then I sat right down where I was.

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