The tournament’s opening ceremony had been quite the spectacle. A celebration of the anniversary of King Henry the second’s coronation. The field had been full of nobles readying themselves to compete for the prize which was a rather valuable set of golden chalices and small statues with valuable gems. Mostly however it was for the glory. Enid would much rather be participating in the tournament then watching. Which left her with a lingering sense of disappointment. She’d let her husband deal with them in Narfordshire, them occurring in daylight and her being an undead monster of the night. Though now as a mortal she could enjoy them as it was. She sat beside the Empress along with the king and queen and their children. They had an excellent view. Sir Arl was taking part in the games even though he was technically royalty because of his brother’s seat on the throne but he had no aspirations as such and had abdicated any claim to it on the eve of his brother’s coronation. Enid suspected Matilda had something to do with that.

This morning was the grand melee. The afternoon would be entertainment on the second day one-on-one duels of the survivors of the grand melee. The grand melee saw groups of ten combatants in a chaos filled battle. Blunted blades were used and thick padding under the chain mail. The last four out and the one victor from each grand melee would be put into pairs for individual duels. The pairs would be randomly pulled from a hat by the king in a ceremony after the grand melee. Each victor of the grand melee would get a prize. Enid’s jealous must have shown on her face, also her contempt for the lack of skill because Matilda tapped her on the shoulder. Enid leaned back. Matilda spoke quietly as the second grand melee was stopped due to an injury on the field. Enid had been focused on the noble who caused the injury her gift was telling her something was off about the man. His blade was of strange construction and the padding and chainmail didn’t seem to do much to prevent the injury on his target. Enid looked at Matilda.

“Yes, Empress?”

“You wish you were down there, don’t you?”

Enid pursed her lips and nodded.

“That obvious, was it?”

Matilda chuckled softly.

“So, your hands are not calloused from hard work, but training with the staff hmm?”

Enid shook her head.

“No, the sword.”

“How would you stack up against these men playing at war?”

“They wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Is that because of your…origins?”

Enid quirked her head to the side and realized Matilda probably got more out of Sir Arl then she’d wanted him to say. The man was a wimp in most senses of the word, especially where is his mother was concerned.

“A bit of both, if for no other reason then I’m well practiced in the art of war.”

Matilda fanned herself as she watched Sir Hector of St. Claire off the field. For an October the twenty-fifth the weather was very warm. It was also telling on the field with the combatants sweating profusely. Matilda looked to Enid again.

“It is too bad women are banned from competing in such sport. I would very much like to see the arrogant bastards brought low by one.”

King Henry looked over to his mother.

“What nonsense are you spewing now mother?”

Matilda quirked an eyebrow at her son.

“That women are forbidden from entering tournaments because men are afraid they’d lose to them.”

“Women belong at home, taking care of children. Barefoot in the winter, pregnant in the summer.”

“Yet you wear a crown because of one.”

Henry blushed slightly at her mother’s quip, sensing a way to embarrass his mother in a fashion he leaned forward.

“What do you propose mother?”

Matilda motioned to Enid with her fan.

“That Lady Sarah partake in the last grand melee under a pseudonym in disguise, with your permission of course, King Henry.”

“And should she win? It would invalidate the tournament.”

“Then perhaps some sport of a different type. A match between the four victors and the black knight? Hmm? If the good lady wins you sign a decree allowing noblewomen to take part, should they wish in future tournaments.”

“A pointless decree mother, no woman of noble blood would risk their neck or reputation in such a display.”

“Yet we have here a descendant of the great kings of old who fought the might of the Roman Empire and won. Men and women included. Do you not know of Boudica?”

“And if she loses?”

“Hmm.”

She glanced at Enid.

“Lady Sarah, do you have any ideas of what might be an equivalent trade?”

Enid looked at the pair. She was eager to get onto the field perhaps too eager. She glanced at Sir Arl waiting in the wings then back to the King. She also didn’t want to disrupt the timeline with decrees that did not exist.

“Perhaps instead of an open decree, women be allowed to petition the crown for the right. If I lose I will not oppose you using ius premae noctis, should you choose to? If I win and the nobles complain you can say I petitioned for the right to take part, if I lose, I do not reveal my identity and you have the first night. At best for me I prove my skill, at worst your mother may have an heir she respects from Arl’s union. Somewhere in the middle, no one gets anything.”

Henry leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin with a smile. Matilda looked at Enid with the very hint of a smile. Henry nodded. Enid knew she was being used in a game between mother and son, but she was going to get to showcase her skills in a way that would not involve someone dying. Her ego pricked her on.

“Very well. After this grand melee is done, I shall announce the match. But we lack a prize.”

Enid spoke up.

“Majesty, I will put up a masterwork sword with a gem of great value set in the pommel, a work of art by any description. Should I win, I will give the prize to you. It is valuable but has little value to me.”

Henry looked at her.

“Lady Sarah, who crafted the blade? I know of only a few smiths in my kingdom that could make a weapon that could be described as art.”

“I did, majesty. I can retrieve it if you’d like it is with my things. It was the model for another blade crafted of more challenging metal that I had to make. I wanted to ensure I had the process down.”

“Go, please, I would see this work of art.”

Enid excused herself and when she was alone retrieved the prototype for Lucius from her pack. It was a pale imitation, lacking the soul and the Atlantean metal, but the ruby in the hilt was worth more then the grand prize. She returned to find the third grand melee was about to begin. The king stood up.

“Hold. We will proceed in a short time.”

A murmur rose up in the crowd as everyone watched Enid present the blade the king. She had not lied. It had taken her fifteen tries to perfect the blade in its steel form. It still had a mirror polish and was incredibly sharp. She’d never used it in battle. Henry looked at her after hefting the blade and giving it a few swings.

“This is the most beautiful weapon I have ever seen, Lady Sarah, are you sure you’re willing to part with it.”

Enid nodded.

“It served its purpose majesty; It was a test.”

“Do you still possess its child blade?”

Enid shook her head.

“No alas, I left it with a loved one who guards my most valuable treasure.”

He nodded yelled the crowd.

“My mother, the Holy Roman Empress has demanded more sport this day. The future wife of my brother Sir Arl of Lincoln, Lady Sarah of Scotland has provided the prize. A masterwork blade. This masterwork blade.”

He held the sword aloft.

“After the grand melee’s and before the tourney is closed for the day, the four victors will face off against a mysterious black knight. Should the victors not wish to participate a volunteer from their runners up may take part. Now on with the grand melee!”

The crowd of gathered masses of the lower class cheered. They were here to see nobles bashed with dulled blades and lances. More was always welcome. Enid waited until Sir Arl was out in the 3rd grand melee to prepare for her match. He placed fifth. Which meant he placed high enough for the semi-finals which put him above half of the combatants. Enid was somewhat glad she wouldn’t have to embarrass her future husband to be. She’d waited until he was out so she could appear to vanish to tend to her future husband. For the first time in six centuries she donned the padding and black chain mail that was her armor during the middle ages. She borrowed a helmet from the armory and wrapped a black silk cloth under it and over her hair to conceal everything but her eyes. She borrowed her husband’s dulled blade for the competition, without his knowledge but he wouldn’t need it until the next day. She swung it a few times to get a feel for it.

Enid heard the call for combatants she walked out onto the tournament field. Due to her rather flat figure the chainmail and padding concealed signs of femineity. She would not lose this fight of that she was sure, there was no way she would have made the offer to the king she had if she thought there was a chance. Arrayed on the field were Sir Roland of Nottingham the wielder of a black sword. Sir Fredrick of Howden. Sir Charles of Sherborne. Finally, Sir Martin of Okaham. There was a murmur in the crowd when she appeared. A few laughs from the competitors. Sir Arl was sitting by his mother with her seat beside him conspicuously empty.

She approached the area of the match it was delineated by a fence that used wooden spikes to set it in the ground. She hopped over the edge of it with practice ease. She’d worn this armor even as a mortal when such a thing as chainmail should not have existed, yet her father had provided it. She felt the familiar twisting in her gut. She looked to each combatant and realized that Sir Roland was a demon, or a mortal currently possessed by one. She cursed her luck she had no weapon with which to harm the demon, save of course the staff she could summon at will but she wasn’t planning on a display of divine power for a crowd this big. The first attacker came at her. Sir Martin she parried his first blow with ease then with three swift blows knocked him out of the competition, and likely the wind out of his lungs. He collapsed clutching his chest. Sir Charles and Sir Fredrick decided to attack her together. She weaved between their blades and with practiced ease and made Sir Charles’s blade connect with Sir Fredrick’s helmet with a resounding clang. She sliced down to Sir Fredrick’s leg and on her back swing hit Sir Charles in the gut and with a sweep of her foot took Sir Fredrick down as he tried to recover from her last solid blow. She stabbed down on Fredrick taking him out of the match and parried a blow from Sir Charles by getting in close and hitting his wrist with hers. The location and force of her strike sent his blade flying. Slashed twice across Charles’s shoulders putting him out of the match. She kicked his blade and caught it with her left hand and motioned for the demon to try his luck.

Her gift screamed at her when she neared his blade that it was a foul thing. As bad as Bloodseeker. Enid knew he would be dangerous. His sword would likely cut through her armor as easily as Lucius would have. Their battle commenced. Enid was cautious to not let him meet her blades edge on, she assumed it would cut through them. Their blades clanged as she parried him blow for blow. She wasn’t playing with him so much as trying to judge his skill and figure out how she was going to put him down. If he was a shape changed demon no way she could kill him with dulled non-holy weapons. If he was posing a human, she’d just kill the host and he’d escape. She was fairly sure she couldn’t finish him in this fight, but she was damned if she was going to lose. He was growing frustrated with her, and his style was getting messy. He was snarling as she parried his latest blow with a dual block of her blades. He screamed and swung at her with a wild swing. She had been waiting for that. He was stronger than her, stronger and faster than a mortal should have been so a head-on attack would have been foolhardy. She did a spinning kick and hit his wrist when he was off balance from his wild swing sending his demonic blade flying through the air, she slashed him four times with her dual blades. She kicked him in the face when he bent to retrieve his sword and tossed hers away. She flipped his blade up and grabbed it by the hilt. It writhed in her hand trying to force her to strike herself. It wasn’t used to dealing with thousands of year-old entities and was beaten into submission by her force of will. She spun past Demon-Roland and kicked his knees out from under him and raised the blade to kill him only to be tackled to the ground by guards.

The guards suffered for their trespass into the arena once she weaseled her way out of their grasp the next two that came at her found themselves on their assess. She’d lost control of the demonic blade and felt a slash across her upper back. The demon had used the distraction caused by the guards to cut her. The wound burned as if the blade had been doused in acid. She noticed the guards all had daggers on their belts. One of the guards was now distracted by the looming Roland with a fearsome black blade about to stab Enid. She grabbed his dagger and hurled it at Roland the blade lodged itself in his shoulder. She’d been aiming for his throat, but a guard had grabbed her arm and messed with the projectile’s path. Roland was tackled to the ground himself. Neither would face overt sanctions for getting a bit heated. But Enid had already won the match when she’d gone rogue so to speak. He broke free and tried to come at her again. Enid used one of the guards as a shield letting him take the brunt of the angry demon’s charge. She felt a bit guilt at that. She probably heal faster than him. She pulled another dagger out of a guard’s belt and stabbed the demon in the outer thigh. She pulled another out but was tugged backwards by yet another guard.

The assembled peasantry and nobles were on the edge of their seats. Enid and the demon were now facing off again. Their respective guards were on the ground groaning. Enid had a dagger in her hand in a backwards grip ready to knife fight. More guards were arriving and this time they were ready for stronger opposition some even had shields on. In the ensuring scuffle Enid’s helmet and head scarf were pulled off. The guards released her. Not out of fear but more out of shock that a woman had so much damage to their number with an open wound on her back. She probably would have been more impacted by it if it wasn’t for the massive amount of adrenaline pumping through her system. There was a collective gasp from the crowd and Enid saw Hazel charging the field. Hazel was looking about ready to go full claws and talons on Sir Roland. Enid shook her head but Hazel wasn’t listening. The guards who had released her hadn’t notice the teenage girl rushing across the field. Enid looked around herself.

“Don’t worry about me, worry about her.”

Hazel found herself pulled down by several guards she was letting out a string of English and Russian curse words that made even Enid’s ears turn slightly red. Sir Roland retrieved his blade and was glaring at Enid was glaring right back. She pointed to the dagger in his shoulder then to the one in his thigh, with the one she still had in her hand.

“I’m game if you are.”

He looked around the field and particularly at the mass of guards trying to slow Hazel’s progress and then back to Enid.

“Tomorrow. I challenge you. Single combat. A duel to the death.”

“Why wait until tomorrow? I’m ready now.”

The part of the crowd that could hear their conversation were again sitting on the edge of their seats. They had not expected blood sport, but the prospect seemed to excite them.

“Tomorrow.”

Enid threw the dagger into the dirt.

“Fine. Tomorrow.”

He limped off the field towards his tent. She was fairly sure it was a demon possessed human. She still wasn’t sure they could be separated from their hosts by exorcism and no way she’d be let near him after the knock down drag out fight they just had. Once he’d left the field. King Henry finally spoke. He’d been standing to get a good view of the spectacle. Arl was already on the field rushing towards his future wife. The guards who were rethinking their jobs after getting taken down by a noblewoman were starting to shift and get up. King Henry’s personal herald walked onto the field and silenced the crowd.

“His Royal Highness, King Henry the Second, of England would address the champion and yourselves.”

All eyes turned the King.

“Lady Sarah. Had I not seen it with my own eyes I would not have believed it you have won our bet. The sword is yours!”

Enid curtsied.

“Please your majesty, keep it to replace the prize you lost.”

He laughed.

“Indeed. Though it is a pale shadow of that.”

He looked to the crowd.

“Now let us celebrate the victory of my brother’s wife to be! They will be wed on the eve of the last day of this tournament. I have arranged for an engagement banquet and for food to be shared with everyone. Go, enjoy yourselves. Tomorrow we shall see more sport.”

*****

Enid was laying face down and one of the ‘surgeons’ the term she would use lightly was trying to stitch her up, but the demonic weapon had created a wound infested with some sort of flesh-eating magic. Enid could feel it tearing her up, so it wasn’t stitching together. She heard a commotion at the entrance to the surgeon’s tent and Arl’s voice, then Henry’s and Hazel’s. She looked back at the path that was quickly made. Arl grabbed the surgeon shaking him.

“Why is she not stitched up yet? This is my betrothed!”

Henry grabbed his arm.

“Arl, calm yourself. Let the man do his job.”

The surgeon looked between the two and glanced down at Enid. He started speaking in quiet tones. Enid already knew what was happening to her. Of course, in the eyes of the assorted men her weak female mental faculties couldn’t handle the truth of her condition. They moved closer and Henry gasped.

“What manner of vileness is this?”

“It is the same as Sir Hector. It just keeps spreading.”

Hazel appeared in front of her and grabbed her good shoulder. While the men debated what to do about Sir Roland and his dishonorable poisoned blade she spoke to her mother.

“I got you mom.”

Hazel cleared her throat.

“Get out. If you can’t help her leave! King or Noblemen I don’t give a goat’s piss. Get the fuck out!”

Arl looked at Enid who met his gaze with her pain clouded eyes and nodded.

“Let’s give mother and daughter privacy, brother.”

Henry turned to the pair of royal guards who had accompanied him as witnesses to the wound.

“You will guard this tent, let no one save myself, my brother, my mother or Lady Sarah’s daughter enter. And if for some reason the Lady leaves you will not let her out of your sight.”

Once the tent emptied Enid glanced up at Hazel.

“You need the cut the necrotized flesh off. Sonic scalpel in the pack. Then spray on skin. Hurry. We will need to do the same for Sir Hector and hope it’s not too late.”

Hazel nodded and pulled out the medical scanner and started cutting immediately after spraying the area with 29th century antiseptic solution. Hazel finished her patch job on the long gash. The spray on skin had built in pain numbing agents. Hazel start wrapping clean linen over the injury. As with most supernatural wounds it would take longer to heal on Enid even with her accelerated healing. She sat up and flexed her arm.

“A bit weak but it will do.”

“Mom what you did was reckless. Beyond reckless, suicidal! You did this with Miko. Took risks you didn’t need to. Should I be worried?”

Enid looked up at Hazel.

“It’s not like I knew he was a demon, but now that I do, he needs to go.”

“Let me handle it then you’re injured.”

“No! There is no way you beat him with a sword. You’d need to wolf out and how would that go?”

“What are you going to do? Pull the glowy staff out of your ass in front of them?”

“No. I’m going to get a priest to bless your Atlantean sword and I’m going to cut the arrogant fucking prick’s head off. What you’re going to do is take Apollo use a holo-web, or spirit mojo to sneak into his keep and check for more demons before they catch wind of his death. Actually, maybe get Apollo blessed… or his weapons. I’m not sure how it works. I mean if I can just bless a gun that would be so much easier than keep track of which bullets are which.”

“Mom, you barely beat him today and he wasn’t expecting you. You’re injured.”

“So is he. I’ll be wearing my real armor tomorrow.”

“You really think Sir Arl, his mother, and the King and Queen are going to let him anywhere near you?”

“I do.”

“Why is that?”

“Because when you get Apollo and the sword blessed, you’re going to tell the bishop if I don’t fight him the gates of hell will open and engulf the tournament grounds.”

“Really?”

“We’re angels. We’re here to fight demons. You better bet his rotund ass is going to waddle its way over to the castle and say he’s had a vision from God that I must do battle with this evil.”

“Why do I have to be the person who keeps dealing with the priests?”

Enid pulled the Atlantean sword from her pack and offered it to Hazel.

“Please, Hazel. I need you to do this.”

Hazel frowned.

“Its not even a reason, but I don’t think you’ve ever said you need me before.”

Enid’s lips pursed into the beginnings of a frown.

“Hazel I really cannot do this without you. We’re partners in this mission now.”

Enid grabbed her mother’s cheeks and kissed her forehead.

“That’s all you had to say, mom. I cannot wait to see the look on the priest’s face when he sees Apollo.”

She was almost cackling with glee.

“Go easy on him. Help me up? I took a pounding from those guards.”

Hazel took her mother’s hand and pulled her to her feet. Enid did her best to straighten up. She pulled on one of her simple dresses from the pack. She was going functional not noblewoman this afternoon. She smoothed her dress and slug under pack over her uninjured shoulder and left the tent shortly after Hazel. The guards looked shocked to see on her feet they’d seen the festering black wound. She looked at them both.

“Do either of you know where Sir Hector is?”

“Milady should you be on your feet?”

Enid chuckled.

“Probably not, but Sir Hector is in need of aid, fetch the surgeon please.”

One of the royal guards nodded and rushed off. The other guard looked down at her. She recognized him as one of the guards she beat up during the chaos after the match. She saw the bruise on his cheek. She pointed to the same spot on her cheek.

“Sorry about the… umm.”

He blinked at her.

“It is nothing Milady.”

They fell into an awkward silence again. The guard didn’t seem to know how to handle a woman like her, she started to cross her arms and thought the better of it when she felt pain run down her right arm. Eventually the other guard returned with the surgeon who looked shocked to see her up he started trying to usher her back into the tent.

“Milady you should not be up! It will spread the poison.”

“I’m fine, where is Sir Hector?”

“He is in his tent; I could do nothing for him.”

“I can, if you want to see him live, lead me to him.”

The surgeon seemed hesitant but motioned towards another part of the encampment. It was still early afternoon, so the camp sites were quiet save for squires and pages going about their tasks preparing their knights equipment for the tournament. As Enid started to follow the surgeon the royal guards fell into step behind her. She glanced back at them.

“Should you be protecting the king?”

The one she’d punched earlier shook his head.

“No Milady, we were told not to let you out of our sight should you leave the surgeon’s tent.”

Enid frowned slightly and sighed.

“Fine but you’re not coming into Sir Hector’s tent.”

The group navigated the camp and found Sir Hector’s tent. His staff were milling about, not sure what to do. They had likely been told he is not long for this world. His squire a boy of sixteen or seventeen moved to block them before he saw the royal guards.

“Sorry Sir Hector would like some privacy.”

A firm male voice from behind Enid, the guard she’d bruised spoke.

“Is that how you address a Lady, boy?”

“I am sorry milady, I did not recognize you in ah.. dress.”

Enid looked up at his face.

“Stand aside if you want your liege to live. Or if you’d rather I can move you.”

He stepped aside; His master’s condition not-withstanding he had been present at the match she’d taken part in. Enid entered the tent. Sir Hector was on a wooden stretcher held up by two crosses of wood. He was pale and sickly looking. Sweat drenched his hair. He saw Enid approach and spoke.

“Are you an angel come to take me to Heaven?”

“No, I’m an angel come to keep you on this Earth, may I look at your wound?”

He nodded. Enid kneeled down beside the stretcher and pulled the blood-soaked linen. The wound was disgusting looking. She would have to cut deep. She looked up to the surgeon.

“Please leave us.”

“Milady?”

“I will need privacy with my patient. Leave please.”

She looked to the royal guards as well.

“You as well. Go.”

“Milady?”

“He’s a dying man, what harm can he do to me?”

Once she was along with the dying knight she pulled out her contacts case and put them in her eyes, then wrapped her holo-phone around her wrist and then started scanning the wound with a small medical scanner. It wasn’t pretty but it was doable without killing him. She pulled out a bottle of the antiseptic solution sprayed all over the wound and surrounding skin. Then did the same with a local anesthetic. Sir Hector struggled to see what she was doing.

“You’re Sir Arl’s betrothed. What manner of thing are you truly?”

Enid pulled out her sonic scalpel and started cutting out the necrotized flesh of the wound following the path provided by her scan and fed through her contacts.

“I told you, I’m an angel come to save your life.”

“You are cutting me, but I feel nothing…what manner of magic is this?”

Enid didn’t look at his face she kept focused on her work. Her hand was just as steady as they had been when she had called herself Melanie Stuart. What miracles she could have performed with 29th century tech at the children’s hospital. The surgeries she could have performed. How many lives she could have saved. She was mid cut when someone entered the tent. She didn’t look up she could cause major harm if she wasn’t careful with the energy scalpel.

“I told you surgeon; I need privacy.”

Sir Hector lay very still, for which Enid was thankful. She heard Arl’s voice.

“Milady?”

“Shh. I need to focus this is very delicate work.”

Arl walked closer his shadow falling over Sir Hector’s face. Arl spoke again.

“You should be in bed, you were injured.”

“I will be fine. Its already healing. Sir Hector was not.”

She finished the last cut and wrapped the decayed flesh in the old bandage. She pulled the spray on skin and coated the wound in deliberate layers. She placed a fresh dressing on it and motioned to Arl.

“Help him up. We need to bind it.”

Arl kneeled down and helped Sir Hector sit up. She tied off the new dressing and Arl let him down again. Enid reached in and pulled out a t-cell enhancer and a 29th century anti-biotic which was actually virulent bacteriophages that would decimate any infection before it could start. They would die off in a couple of weeks but until then Sir Hector would be the healthiest human in the twelfth century. She gave him both injections and put all her things away and gathered up the linen with the poisoned flesh. Sir Hector looked up at her.

“Will I live?”

“You might. I’d lay off the wine though. Sorry you aren’t going to be ready for the rest of the tournament. Though if you give yourself a couple of hours you should be able to attend my engagement dinner tonight.”

Enid started to stand, and he grabbed her arm he looked at her.

“You are an angel and anyone who says differently is a fool.”

Enid chuckled.

“We will see if you still say that after you hear what occurred on the tournament field today.”

He released Enid.

“Milady, could you send my men in?”

“Of course, sir knight. Rest well. Remember do not overdo it and no tournament, no matter how good you feel, I had to cut deep, the poison had spread far. Don’t fret about your vengeance Sir Roland’s head will roll down the field tomorrow.”

Arl frowned at his wife to be, they left Sir Hector with his men and started walking towards the castle. The royal guard were nearby but at a discrete distance so the couple could speak.

“You are not accepting his challenge. He is to be imprisoned in the Tower of London.”

Enid looked up at Sir Arl.

“I will be fighting him and he will die. He’s one of my targets. You have to have figured it out, his blade?”

He coughed suddenly as he swallowed down the wrong hole realizing the implications.

“You said you needed to not show yourself…”

“This is a rivalry between two nobles. He challenged me.”

“Where is your daughter?”

“Dealing with the rest of his household.”

“What?”

“Her skills are less… subtle then mine. I assure you she is fine. Killing him will not be difficult, convincing your mother and brother to let me, that is the real challenge…”