Thread: Squire's Secret (Benny and Gunner)

Jacqueline winced some at Friderick's reaction to the confession. More so at such easy use of such a vulgar word. Cock. Honestly. She didn't realize men were such pigs. The things women were kept in the dark about were simply astounding. Well no she didn't grab...it...I mean she tried but...just grabbed my leg. Someone on high was looking out for her there. If that woman had grabbed where she intended...Jacqueline shuddered to imagine just what might have happened. Quick discovery and slow death by stoning. Possibly burning. The best she could hope for would be hanging. I didn't mean... she began but was cut off by Friderick's sudden and explosive laughter. It was startling enough it made her sit up a little on the cot and stare. Honestly he had a very pleasant laugh. It was unfortunate he was so vulgar. Friderick went on further. Lecturing like a priest on his pulpit. It was honestly exhausting. She didn't need a lecture about not impregnating some random woman. Even if she wanted to it would be impossible. Then she remembered that Friderick was under the impression she was a boy. Yes, surprisingly hard to forget. Jacqueline ruffled the short, puppy soft hair. Barely even an inch long. She didn't have to act to look sheepish at the lecture. Sheepish and perhaps a little bored as well. Though when Friderick said womenfolk were strange Jacqueline snorted. Well, barmaids were strange but not all women were. Most made perfect sense. It was men who were an odd, two-faced lot really. Though Friderick, somehow, grew even more serious and demanded a promise. Don't chase after women. No trouble there. You have my word. I will not chase women. By all that's holy...I won't even talk to women if I can help it, she said vehemently yet with a small smirk. It would be better anyways. Less likely to be sniffed out. Jacqueline laid back down, a little itching and uncomfortable in the shirt and breeches. She closed her eyes and huffed a sigh, tucking her face into the crook of her arm. I didn't mean to knock her down, she eventually muttered, well on her way to sleep. With a long, strange day bearing down she quickly found reprieve in sleep. Though that didn't mean the next day would be all that much better. At her home she woke with the sun. It was the only time she got to enjoy before her mother woke up. Wrestling, fighting, riding, anything deemed inappropriate had to be accomplished before her mother awakened. Which happened almost weekly. She'd be caught and her punishment was dreadful. Needlepoint, dance, music of any sort the harp wasn't bad but she sang like a dying bird. Sheer and utter torture for Jacqueline. She might prefer red hot pokes to needlepoint. So it was that she was up with the sun at the inn. With yawn and a cat-like stretch she stood and quietly grabbed her boots and sword. Quiet as a church mouse she crept out into the dawn. Friderick wanted to bathe then test her skills. A strange plan...get clean then sweat again. Logic was clearly not the man's strongpoint. Boots on and laced Jacqueline went to the quiet yard to run simple drills. Strikes, parries, guards. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5....repeat. Jacque's sword was a little big for her hands, perhaps a little too heavy as well. Being smaller she relied on quicker strikes and almost dance-like maneuvers rather than brute strength. She didn't really have brute strength. Let your opponent tire out then strike. Good advice given by the bravest of her father's army. The ones brave enough to give advice despite the potential wrath of the Duchess of Lancaster.