The Feminist Musketeer
"Good, good. Now block," Jacqueline's semi-masculine voice echoed in the cool morning courtyard. Mimou followed the female Musketeer's directions, ending the pattern with the mentente move that she had learned during her last stay at the garrison. Jacqueline gave the girl a warm smile. "Excellent!" Both lowered their rapiers.
"Thank you, Jacques," Mimou told the woman. She noticed d'Artagnan the younger watching from the doorway and excused herself with a curtsey to the female Musketeer before scurrying off to hide her weapon from her Uncle Duval. These early morning practices in the seldom used back courtyard were meant to be their little secret.
But it seemed that d'Artagnan could figure out all of Jacqueline's secrets. He sauntered over to his friend, softly saying, "You shouldn't encourage her so…"
Jacqueline stopped in the motion of resheathing her rapier just in case the legend's son was fishing for a duel. "You know I am a firm believer in the girl knowing how to defend herself."
"I know that," he countered, noting her bared steel and keeping himself a few steps out of range, "but you're letting her believe that she could become a Musketeer."
Jacqueline raised her eyebrows and planted her sword tip on the cobblestone ground.
"And who says she can't be a Musketeer? Still against women in the corps, soldier?" she asked tauntingly.
D'Artagnan gave her a small grin. "Personally I have no argument, as I've told you before…" He pulled out his own blade, eager for a good fight. "But would you subject the lovely daughters of France to the rough men in the garrison?" His smile widened as held his rapier in the ready position.
"I seem to manage," she told him, still in her posture of nonchalance.
He shook his head. "Jacqueline, you don't realize that you are—" D'Artagnan forgot the right word when a sudden attack came for him.
"A freak of nature?" the woman suggested, her swings forcing the legend's son to block and retreat.
"I was going for 'unique,'" d'Artagnan replied, striking back with a flurry of his own attacks, "but if that's what you want to call it, then yes."
"Any girl, if she worked at it, could be just as good." Jacqueline spun out to come at him from his unprotected side, causing the Musketeer to have to stumble away.
D'Artagnan recovered quickly, and the pair circled the courtyard. He called over to her, "Well, no matter what your sentiments, the Captain would never allow his niece or any other woman in the Musketeers."
Jacqueline, eyes as intent as ever, replied, "And that is the source of the problem."
The man frowned in confusion. "What problem?" he asked.
"The oppression of women," she told him matter-of-factly sidestepping to keep perfect distance between them. "It is all because we are denied choice."
D'Artagnan gave a wry smile. "I hardly think—" He was cut off by Jacqueline's charge. Their hilts locked.
With only scant inches between them, Jacqueline's blue eyes met his warm brown ones directly. "No, try to think seriously. Were you forced to be a soldier?"
D'Artagnan blinked and gave her a push back, breaking the lock. "Well, no—" he began.
Jacqueline came back in for another attack. Their blades clashed together as she asked, "If you wanted to be a nobleman at court, could you have?"
"I suppose—" he told her.
Jacqueline struck again. "How about a farmer?"
"If I really wanted—"
"A pirate, a priest, a traveling sideshow, a scholar, a fishmonger, a diplomat, a—" A flurry of attacks punctuated each word.
D'Artagnan broke away abruptly, letting his blade fall. Frustrated, he said, "Okay I get your drift… now what's the point?"
The female Musketeer looked at him earnestly, her rapier lowered as well. "I had two choices: join a convent or marry."
"And what would be wrong with getting married?" he asked softly, almost wistfully, as he gazed at the woman before him.
Now Jacqueline was frustrated. "Don't you understand?" she hissed softly just in case anyone was near enough to hear. "My skill with a sword would have been wasted if I was stuck cooking and cleaning and raising babies. Tell me, how many times have I helped the Musketeers these last few months?"
"Countless," he replied, amused at her anger. He loved it when she got worked up about her duty to France and forgot to wear her 'Jacques' face, letting the beauty of the woman shine through for a moment.
"Exactly," she continued. "Think of how differently things might have worked out if I hadn't gone to all the trouble of dressing up and acting like a man. I never could have joined the Musketeers if I had walked up in my farm dress."
D'Artagnan, assuming the physical fight was over sheathed his rapier and crossed his arms over his chest. "So how do you propose to right this great wrong against womankind?"
Without exposing a hint of what she planned, Jacqueline darted over to the man, pulling out a dagger and holding it at a very sensitive area. D'Artagnan had a momentary flashback to their first duel and swallowed hard, meeting her hard gaze. "That's not the way to do it," he said carefully and put his hands up in surrender.
"If it gets you to listen, maybe it's a start," she told him. The female Musketeer pulled away, watching for any sign of attack. At a safe distance back, she hid the dagger back in her boot and flashed the cowed legend's son the brightest smile of victory she could before reentering the garrison with a spring her manly stride.
From his place across the yard, d'Artagnan enjoyed the smile and view as she left. I've got my hands full with that one, he thought as he followed the courageous woman inside.