janetlin | Original fic, Gabrielle

Title: Gabrielle
Rating: PG-13
Genre: historical fiction
Summary: At first I thought nothing of the well-dressed, fine young lady who seldom left his side, but then I learned a woman can be more than what she seems.
Author's Note: Just another short little cookie, here. A friend of mine is planning on running a new roleplaying game, and so I've been thinking about what type of character I'd like to play, and this woman just popped into my head. Oddly enough, though, when I sat down to write her story (during a lull at work last night) it came through the PoV of someone else. Hrm. So this might or might not make sense...

~*~

I have been with the ambassador for two years, and she was already part of his company when I arrived. At first I thought nothing of the well-dressed, fine young lady who seldom left his side. A favorite niece, perhaps, visiting her doting uncle, for I knew he had no children and was not married. But the girl, or lady (I was unable to divine her age at that time, and am wise enough not to try now), stayed for several months, which I considered odd, as a friendly family visit usually lasts a few weeks at most. It was then I noticed that he treated her not with the almost paternal fondness one would expect. There, I thought, she must be his mistress. And I chided myself for not thinking earlier of what function an attractive and charming woman might serve to my employer.

They were not unduly amorous toward one another in public. Indeed, it later occurred to me that I had never witnessed any exchange between the two of them that resulted in more than the most chaste of kisses upon her knuckles. Confusing as this was, I did not consider it my place to inquire of either of them the nature of their relationship.

The more I observed of her, though, the less she seemed his personal mistress and the more she struck me as rather a hostess for the entire embassy, and occasionally a courtesan for visiting diplomats, if the situation required. She was gracious and hospitable as any great lady of court could hope to be, and the members of the ambassador’s household treated her with an odd sort of silent deference. I know I was not the only one to watch with a scowl whenever she would saunter down the hallway to the embassy’s guest wing in the dark hours of the night. It was incomprehensible to me why she should debase herself so.

Too many mornings I overheard members of foreign retinues gossiping lewdly about my employer’s “trollop” (or worse) and her visits to their party’s rooms. I surprised myself upon each of these occasions with the violent emotions their talk aroused in me. I wanted to cuff each and every one of them, and call them all to duel, for her honor. I admit I was a young and irrational lad. Who else would have felt the need to defend the “honor” of a prostitute, if that indeed were what she was? I was still confused as to the exact nature of her employment under my master (though I at least was certain now that their arrangement was more for business than any type of personal relationship), but harlot or whatever else she may have been, she was still the truest lady I had ever known, and in no way deserved such derision.

I decided to take up the matter with my employer, and one day gathered my courage enough to knock on his study’s door.

“Enter,” his voice rumbled, and upon opening the door I was relieved to find she had abandoned her place at his side for the morning. He seemed to sense my apprehension. “This is about Gabrielle, isn’t it?” I nodded mutely. “Come and sit down,” he instructed, and I obeyed.

He let me suffer in silence until I found my own words. “I am concerned for her, sir.”

“Oh?” his expression was of amused curiosity, “Why should that be?”

Now I had come to the uncomfortable need to explain myself. I carefully composed my thoughts and hoped I would not seem as foolish as I felt. “Some of our guests have been speaking ill of her.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What are they saying?”

“Well, they... they make references to certain of her activities, sir,” I answered, hoping he would not ask me to be more specific.

“Do you believe their conclusions are untrue?”

“No, sir.”

“Then what quarrel should you have with them? Surely a courtesan would not be afraid of men speaking about what she does.” He reminded me of my father, trying to guide me to an answer by asking me questions that would make me think.

“They... well, she...” I knew I wasn’t making any sense, so I took a deep breath and tried to explain as simply as I could. “I believe she is more than she seems, sir.”

This response seemed to amuse him. “Why should she be anything else?”

My answer spilled from my lips before my mind could form it, “Her position in your company is a mystery to me, sir, and I do not intend to question her presence, but if I may be so bold, I believe she is not merely a courtesan.”

His eyes twinkled and he allowed a small chuckle to escape. “No, my good lad, she is no courtesan, though when necessary she does fill that role.”

I leaned forward in my chair. “Then...” I began, but remembered I had said I would not ask, and so sank back with a frown.

“Then what is she, and why is she here?” the ambassador laughed. “My dear boy, it’s taken you longer than most to come ask me that question. I was beginning to wonder if you were completely blind. But, I am pleased I shan’t have to release you from your position, so I shall tell you something that is never to be revealed to another person, even if you believe they already know. Gabrielle is a swordswoman, and one of the best I’ve ever seen. She is my bodyguard, spy, and assassin.”

At this news my mouth gaped open. The sweet hostess I had thought to defend was herself capable, more than capable, of killing a man?

“Don’t look so shocked,” my employer laughed, “you already knew she was more than a flipskirt, why should the greater truth be so surprising?”

I still could barely comprehend the revelation. “Who knows about this?”

“Every trusted member of my retinue, once they figure out enough to ask,” he answered with a wink, “And her guild of course, those few members who remember her.”

Where did you find a woman like her? I wanted to ask, but corrected myself. “How did she come into your employ?”

“I had need of a hired sword to settle a dispute while I was abroad some years ago. The guild provided Gabrielle, and she proved more than satisfactory, so I offered her a permanent position. She protects me, gathers valuable information, and dispatches of those who would threaten me or my office. Any outsider who learns of her true nature does so only at the moment she ends his life.”

I was shocked to hear of such dark deeds being performed by the woman I had come to admire as a paragon of feminine grace and virtue. “Can she truly be so vicious?” I asked, incredulous.

“What woman could not?” a new voice spoke from behind my chair, and the hairs on my neck stood on end. I looked back to see Gabrielle’s calm face regarding me. I realized at once why I had not heard her approach. She was not wearing one of her sumptuous gowns with rustling petticoats, but a costume that looked more suited to an acrobat at the circus. Her dainty heeled shoes had been replaced by suede slippers, and instead of the lace fan always on her wrist, her dextrous fingers played with the pommel of the rapier at her hip. Looking at her now, suddenly I was no longer surprised to know of her true purpose.

“Indeed, my dear,” the ambassador said, “but few have your singular talent.” She smiled and slightly bowed her head. Returning to me, my employer explained, “Gabrielle has been with me for three years, and there is no one, man or woman, to whom I would more readily entrust my life. Her blade has never failed me. And while she and I both are flattered by your desire to save her from indignity, I can only assure you that, if she indeed felt such an affront, there would be little you could do other than get in her way.”

I felt foolish now for thinking I could somehow defend or protect her. If the ambassador trusted her so implicitly with his life, she must indeed be a fearsome warrior. I looked back at her, and finally saw her for what she was: a woman of blades, an assassin of men, and of my heart.