Chapter 4

Sunlight glared down onto Jacqueline's face through a hole in the roof and, moments later, her headache returned. She shot to her feet, instinctively reaching for a sword that wasn't there. Her eyes warily scanned the room, making their way to the barn door just in time to see Siroc enter with D'Artagnan and Ramon. On meeting the inventor's eyes, the headache faded and she finally allowed herself to relax.

"Looking for this?" Ramon asked, holding up her rapier and baldric, which he'd found forgotten in the house.

"Yes. Thank you, Ramon." Glaring at the other two, Jacqueline quickly approached the Spaniard and reclaimed her blade, returning it to its customary place. "Now, if you'll excuse me…" She headed for the door only to find her path blocked by Siroc.

"Where are you going?"

"Thought I'd take that walk." She tried to push past him, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"I told you last night that going off alone is a bad idea."

"Last night, I was unarmed." She pulled her sword and placed the blade against the inventor's throat. "As you can see, that's no longer true. Now let me pass." Quicker than any of them could've anticipated, Siroc's left palm slammed into her wrist, snapping it and causing the sword to drop. He then grabbed her arm and, in one swift motion, twisted underneath it and used the momentum to throw her over his shoulder to the floor. There was a loud crack on impact as Jacqueline felt a couple of her ribs break. Still holding her arm, Siroc then twisted it painfully behind her, forcing her onto her stomach as he straddled her waist to hold her there. Moments later, she felt the unmistakable sensation of a blade against the back of her neck. Jacqueline twisted her head around as far as she could to look, and what she saw in Siroc's eyes was a sort of cold fury, the likes of which she'd never before witnessed in the normally docile inventor. Glancing past him, she watched as D'Artagnan pulled a pistol and aimed it at the blonde's back.

"Put the gun down, boy," Siroc commanded, without even looking. "You'd just be wasting what I'm pretty sure is the last of your powder." The Gascon glared for a moment, then lowered the gun and let it drop from his fingers. "That's better. Now…" He rolled Jacqueline over so that he was looking directly into her eyes without her having to twist around. "Listen to me, Jacqueline, and listen well, as this is the last time I will waste my breath on this concept. What I just did…that took me centuries to perfect. Just how many isn't your concern. Point is, I've been around a long time, and Bernard even longer. So if I can take you down this quickly, just what the hell do you think he'll do? And keep in mind that, unlike me, he'll more than likely be looking to take your head."

"I-I see your point."

"Do you now?" Shifting his position again, he scooted back so he was sitting on her thighs. As she sat up he placed blade just underneath her jaw, at which point she realized that it wasn't a musketeer sword, but something from a far different time and place. She didn't have much time to think on it, however, as Siroc leaned in so closely that she could smell last night's dinner on his breath. "This isn't a game, Jacqueline. I don't care how good you think you are with that blade…if I really wanted to, I could take your head off right now and there wouldn't be a damn thing either you or them could do to stop me. Am I making myself clear?" She nodded. "Good. Now pay attention. Whatever public persona he's crafted for himself, the true Bernard is very old and VERY dangerous. Therefore, you are not--I repeat, NOT--to go anywhere alone until I say otherwise."

"That's not--"

"Not what? Fair? Well, too bad. Much as I like you, I'm not here to be your friend. I'm here to prepare you for what's to come, and if I have to break a few bones in order to drive my lessons home, believe me, I won't lose any sleep over it. As I was saying, until I feel you're fully prepared to deal with another immortal on your own, you are not to travel anywhere without me as an escort. Especially not into the forest. Too many places to set up an ambush. See, the only warning we get when another of our kind draws near is the headaches…which I'm sure you've already been experiencing in my presence since you revived. However, even that warning will do you no good if you don't have a clear view of where the attack is coming from. And with Bernard already on the warpath…do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes."

"And are you going to try and run off again anytime soon?"

"No."

"Good girl, you're learning." The familiar gentleness returned to his features and, stashing the strange sword under his jacket, the inventor stood up and offered her his hand, which she took, allowing him to help her back to her feet. As soon as she was standing, Jacqueline let go of Siroc's hand just in time to see a black and grey blur streak past and tackle the blonde to the ground. The blur turned out to be D'Artagnan, who immediately straddled Siroc's waist and started punching him in the face. She screamed for him to stop, but her plea went unheeded as Siroc's head shot up and slammed into the Gascon's nose, sending him backwards. They both stumbled back to their feet, then D'Artagnan charged Siroc once more, only this time the inventor was too quick for him. He sidestepped the charge, and then wrapped one arm around D'Artagnan's throat while pressing the other one into the back of his neck. The Gascon started to go limp, but then surprised Siroc by suddenly swinging his leg backwards to collide with his groin. He released his grip on D'Artagnan and dropped to his knees, clutching the injured area as he gasped from the pain. The Legend's son took a moment to catch his breath before kicking out again, this time aiming for the inventor's jaw. Luckily, Siroc was able to collect himself in time to grab the incoming foot and twist, sending D'Artagnan to the floor. Rising to his feet, he glared at the Gascon's prone form as he finally wiped the blood from his mouth from where D'Artagnan had punched him. Seconds later, the prone musketeer started to move again, as if trying to rise.

"Stay down, boy," Siroc growled. "I don't want to hurt you, believe me, but I will if you force my hand." D'Artagnan continued to rise anyway, and the inventor dropped back into a defensive stance. The Gascon charged again and Jacqueline, seeing something that Siroc missed, quickly stepped in between. There was a collision of bodies and, a moment later, Jacqueline collapsed to the floor with a dagger sticking out of her stomach.

"My God," D'Artagnan stammered, staring at his fallen comrade in disbelief. "W-what have I done?" The words were barely out of his mouth when Ramon rushed forward and grabbed him, dragging him to the opposite wall and pinning him there. Meanwhile, Siroc ran to the side of his student. He removed the dagger and, sitting on the floor, gently pulled her head into his lap. A brief touch to her neck told him that she was gone. "She…she's going to be alright, isn't she?" the Gascon asked, craning his head to see past Ramon's.

Siroc sighed, fixing the Legend's son with a cold, angry gaze. "Lucky for you, we aren't that fragile. You, on the other hand…" Carefully setting Jacqueline's head aside, he stalked over to D'Artagnan and, in one swift motion, snapped his nose back into place. The Gascon cried out in pain, glaring at the inventor.

"What was that for?"

"A reminder--Jacqueline and I may be hard to kill, but that's hardly true for everyone. If that had been Ramon who'd stepped between us, you'd be guilty of murdering a fellow musketeer, not to mention a friend."

"That's right, amigo," the Spaniard chimed in. "That could be me laying there. What in Dios name were you thinking?"

"I…I don't know. I saw Siroc attack her and…and I just lost it."

Siroc sighed again, then smacked D'Artagnan upside the head. "Number one, don't bother using that as an excuse. You've been acting like a spoiled brat since last night when I suggested that I'd be better suited to protect her than you--which, by the way, is still true. Secondly, I wasn't attacking Jacqueline, I was teaching her. My methods are harsh, I admit, but they work. Either way, though, it's none of your concern. I'm trying to keep her alive, and if you really cared about her as much as you claim, then you'd stand back and let me do what needs to be done. Your actions today were selfish, irresponsible, and could've gotten someone killed. I won't report you to Duval, but I think you should head back."

"No way!" D'Artagnan yelled, his bravado returning. He tried to push past Ramon, but the Spaniard held fast.

"He's right, compadre. It's time to leave. So I suggest we get out of here before our amiga wakes up and kills you." With that, he dragged the Legend's son away from the wall and pushed him through the barn doors. He started to follow, but the inventor grabbed his arm.

"You don't have to leave, Ramon. Just him."

Ramon shook his head. "It's alright, Siroc. After all, someone needs to keep him out of trouble. See you both back at the garrison?"

Siroc nodded. "Count on it." The Spaniard left, and Siroc returned to Jacqueline's side just as she was coming around. She sat up, muttering a few unrepeatable curses aimed at the arrogant Gascon as she examined her now-ruined shirt. Kneeling down, the elder immortal gently laid a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Of course not…D'Artagnan just stabbed me…he actually stabbed me…" She looked up at Siroc. "Where is he? I could kill him…"

"He's on his way back to the garrison with Ramon. Don't worry, I already talked to him about it, and I highly doubt he'll be trying that one again anytime soon."

"Good….You wouldn't happen to have any extra shirts, would you?"

Chuckling a little, Siroc glanced down at his torso, covered only by his musketeer jacket, and then back at her. "Does it look like I have any extra?"

"Oh yeah…"

"There's probably some in the house though. If you want, I could go in and grab a few."

"Could you?"

"Of course." With that, he turned and headed out of the barn, returning several minutes later with an armful of white cloth. He handed her one piece, which turned out to be one of Gerard's old shirts, before turning around like a gentleman and donning the other. She quickly did the same, stashing the bloodied one underneath some hay.

"So," she asked, rising to her feet. "What now?"

He turned back around, flashing her a sympathetic smile. "That depends on you, actually."

"What do you mean?"

"I do have a plan--one that involves the second coffin I made--but it demands a pretty big sacrifice on your part, and I don't want to force you to do something like that against your will."

"Exactly what kind of 'sacrifice' are you talking about?"

"Renouncing any and all claims to the identity of 'Jacqueline Roget' and spending the rest of your life--or, at least, the next couple of decades--living solely as your male alter-ego." She sighed, her mind awhirl in thoughts. Could she really give up any chance she might've had to finally stop hiding and live as herself? 'Then again, either way I'd still be in hiding. After all, I can't tell just anyone about being immortal. And am I really giving up that much? I mean, as long as I keep my head, there's always a chance that a time will come when I can live the life I want to as a woman. So perhaps a few decades living as a man won't be so bad…'

She nodded. "Alright. What's the plan?"

"It's quite simple, really. We bury the other coffin in your name--next to Gerard, of course--with a little surprise inside for anyone that might come looking for proof."

"What kind of surprise?"

"Help me get this coffin outside and I'll show you." Nodding her agreement, she followed Siroc over to the worktable and assisted him in carrying the crude wooden casket over to the family plot. Much to her surprise, a hole had already been dug right next to where Gerard had been laid to rest.

"Did you get any sleep at all last night?" she inquired, eyebrow raised, as they set the coffin down.

He shrugged. "Never really needed that much, to be honest. 'Course, I suppose it comes from having been raised a slave. Back then, a good night's sleep wasn't exactly a priority."

"You were a slave?"

"Yes. Back when I was mortal. But it was a long time ago…a very long time ago. Excuse me…" He went behind a nearby tree, emerging a moment later with something in his arms. As he drew closer, she could see the squirming form of what was probably the most pitiful looking goat she'd ever laid eyes on.

"Where'd you get him from?"

"Bought him off one of your neighbors this morning."

"Why?"

"Remember the little surprise I mentioned?"

"Yes, I…you're not going to kill him, are you?"

"Would you rather I buried him alive?"

"Of course not. It's just…when you said 'surprise,' I assumed you were referring to some new invention of yours."

He sighed. "I don't like it any more than you do, believe me. But look at him, Jacqueline. Not exactly a healthy goat we're dealing with. We'd be doing him a favor, really. And at least this way, he'll get a proper burial out of it instead of ending up on tomorrow's menu. No offense, but I thought that, being a farmer's daughter, you'd be used to this sort of thing."

"I may have been raised on a farm, but I always hated it when the animals had to be slaughtered."

Siroc nodded in understanding. "It's alright. You don't have to watch if you don't want to. But trust me, it's for the best."

"Okay." She watched Siroc pull out a knife, then quickly turned around, closing her eyes and covering her ears for good measure. An eternity passed and, finally, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"It's done." Opening her eyes and lowering her hands, she turned to see what was left of the poor goat laid out inside the coffin. Siroc pulled a small leather pouch from his jacket pocket and began sprinkling the contents over the corpse--just as she'd seen him do for Gerard.

"What's that?"

He held the pouch up. "This?" She nodded. "It's called lye."

"What is it for?"

"Old Roman trick," he explained, putting the pouch away. "See, what it does is exponentially increase the rate of bodily decomposition in the recently deceased."

"Huh?"

"It makes the bodies rot faster. The Romans used it all the time…helped them stuff quite a few bodies into the catacombs. Of course, the lye also creates a horrible stench, which is why the emperor eventually banned it. But it is quite handy when one needs to fake their own death. By the time anyone starts snooping around--provided, of course, that the stench alone isn't enough of a deterrent--there won't be enough left of the goat for anyone to tell just who or what was buried here."

"And you really think this will fool Mazarin…especially with Bernard in his employ?"

He sighed. "Truth is, I'm not looking to convince Mazarin of anything."

"Then how will this help me?"

"Louis' coronation will take place in about a week's time. If we can convince him, with or without proof, that Jacqueline Roget is dead and that you really are Jacques LePonte, then the cardinal will be of no consequence. Even with Bernard, his guards alone are nothing we can't handle. The problems would only come if both they and your fellow musketeers were looking to take you into custody."

"You want me to lie to the king?"

"Isn't that what you've been doing for the past year?"

"Yes, but…well…it was only supposed to be temporary…until I managed to clear my name. I was going to tell him the truth…eventually. And now you're telling me that I'm going to have to continue lying to him for the rest of his life. I'm sorry, but it just doesn't feel right…not to me, anyway."

Siroc flashed her another sympathetic smile, then put his arm around her shoulders. "I understand your loyalty to Louis, I really do. I feel the same way. But remember, you're also an immortal now, and your first loyalty is to your own kind. Hard as it is, we have to lie, even to those we serve, in order to protect our secret. As I told our comrades, if people found out that we existed, the consequences would be dire. There'd be witch hunts, and none of us would be safe from even mortals. Understand…Jacques?"

"Yes." With a heavy sigh, Jacqueline gently removed Siroc's arm and walked over to the still-open coffin, which was already starting to emit a bad smell. Taking a ribbon out of her pocket, she tied her hair back in the usual male fashion, after which she pulled her own dagger and sliced it off just above the tie. What she cut off, she tossed into the coffin with the goat.

"What did you do that for?" Siroc asked as he nailed the lid on.

"If I'm laying this part of my life to rest, it's only fitting that part of me should be buried as well. Besides, why torture myself with a daily reminder of the life I can no longer have?"

"You'll have it back someday."

"Perhaps…but not in this lifetime." Siroc nodded, and the two wordlessly began the process of burying her substitute. Half the work had already been done, so all that was left was to place the coffin in the hole and cover it. Once that was finished, Siroc took some scraps of wood and helped Jacqueline to make temporary markers for the sites. Two wooden crosses--one for Gerard and the other for herself. Tired, dirty, and sweaty, the two immortals retrieved their mounts, saddled them, and began the ride through the forest that would take them back to the city.