Duel at Dawn

by Kevin Berry

  The duel must be completed, though, as a matter of honor. You take a few moments to pretend to take aim. Your opponent doesn’t flinch. Then you turn the pistol a little to the side, ease the hammer back so it’s fully cocked, and line it up with a tree in the distance.

  When you pull the trigger, a shower of sparks and a cloud of smoke accompany the loud crack of the gun firing. You didn’t hit the tree. Or d’Espesse, luckily. You wonder where the lead ball went.

  You cough as the smoke swirls around you for a few seconds. When it clears, your opponent has her gun raised, pointed at you.

  Your throat goes tight as you hold your breath. Will she shoot you, or will she deliberately miss? Or is she a poor shot like Tempeste told you and she’ll miss anyway?

  Your heart’s racing, almost exploding in your chest. Your knees seem so weak they’ll give way. Below your stomach, something inside loosens a little.

  Please don’t pee! you tell yourself.

  It seems ages, but it must be only a couple of seconds. You gain control of your fear. Adjusting your pose to stand side-on, you face d’Espesse and the barrel of her gun pointed right at you.

  She lowers the barrel slightly and fires. You don’t even have time to cringe before you hear the lead ball thudding into the turf.

  The adjudicator takes the pistols from you and your opponent. The duel is over.

  You breathe a big sigh of relief. Honor has been preserved and no one has been hurt.

  Tempeste gives you a big hug. “I was so worried!”

  “You were worried? I was the one being shot at!”

  In the background, d’Espesse doffs her hat to you. You nod in return. There’s mutual respect there.

  But you decide to leave the corner table at Le Mouton Blanc to her in future anyway.

  Congratulations, this part of your story is over. You chose to take a commission in the King’s Musketeers, in which you have the company of your friend Tempeste. You’ve picked up your dashing new uniform and celebrated at the best cabaret in Paris. You’ve had an argument with some Cardinal’s Guards and faced one of them in a pistol duel. You cleverly (and bravely) chose to fire first and deliberately miss, ensuring your opponent gained the satisfaction and honor she required. And thankfully she didn’t shoot you afterwards. Maybe the Guards will treat you with some respect now.

  It’s time to make a decision. Would you like to:

  Go to the list of choices and start reading from another part of the story?

  Go back to the beginning of the story and try another path?

  Learn more about the phrases and characters in this book?

  Choose to fire second

  You’ve decided to hand the initiative to d’Espesse. When she fires, she might miss, and you can take your time with your shot without the stress of knowing she will fire after you.

  Or she might shoot you. But would she really shoot you over an argument about a table for last night’s dinner?

  You’ll know soon.

  D’Espesse nods her acknowledgement of your decision. The adjudicator hands you each a paper cartridge containing the gunpowder and lead ball.

  “Load your weapons, please.”

  Hours of practice at L’Academie have given you the skills to load a flintlock pistol in under thirty seconds. That’s not as fast as a battle-worn infantryman, but it’s still respectable. You load the flashpan and stuff the rest of the gunpowder and the lead ball down the barrel with the ramrod, making sure it goes all the way down so your pistol won’t explode when you fire it.

  A cold sweat covers your forehead. Your breathing is shallow, unnatural. Some distance away, Tempeste watches, her hands clasped together in front of her.

  The adjudicator makes you stand together, then pace apart ten paces each as he counts. When he calls “ten”, you turn ninety degrees, so you present a side profile to her, giving her less of a target.

  D’Espesse raises her pistol and points it directly at you. Is she a bad shot? Or a good one?

  You feel sweat trickle down the back of your neck, and blink.

  A loud crack jolts you at the same time as the lead ball fired by d’Espesse whistles past your ear. You feel a disturbance in the air as it races past. Sparks fly from the flashpan of her pistol, and smoke billows forth.

  She’s missed. You’re still alive and in one piece. Now you can relax a little, compose yourself and get ready to take your shot.

  The smoke clears. Your opponent stands side-on to you, a grimace on her face, waiting for you to shoot. You raise your gun. There’s no need to rush.

  But what will you do? Does someone deserve to be shot because she got upset when you accidentally took her usual table at dinner? Or should you deliberately miss? If you do, the duel will still be over.

  It’s time to make a decision. Do you:

  Aim to hit?

  Or

  Deliberately miss?

  Aim to miss (firing second)

  You decide to miss on purpose. Your original argument over the table you occupied for last night’s dinner is irrelevant now. D’Espesse will have her honor satisfied by facing your pistol fire. You don’t actually have to shoot her for her to show her courage.

  She watches you intently, though at this distance, in the misty light of dawn, you can’t decipher her expression. You wonder if she’s afraid.

  You take a few moments to pretend to take aim. D’Espesse doesn’t flinch. Then you turn the pistol a little to the side, ease the hammer back so it’s fully cocked, and line it up with a tree in the distance.

  When you pull the trigger, a shower of sparks and a cloud of smoke accompany the loud crack of the gun firing. You didn’t hit the tree. Or d’Espesse, luckily. You wonder where the lead ball went.

  You cough as the smoke swirls around you for a few seconds. Once it’s cleared, you see the adjudicator walking towards you. He takes the pistols from you and your opponent.

  Fortunately, no one was hurt, and the duel’s over. You’ve both shown courage by facing the pistol fire of your opponent. Honor is maintained and satisfaction secured.

  Tempeste gives you a big hug. “I was so worried!”

  “You were worried? I was the one being shot at!”

  In the background, d’Espesse doffs her hat to you. You nod in return. There’s mutual respect there.

  But you decide to leave the corner table at Le Mouton Blanc to her in future anyway.

  Congratulations, this part of your story is over. You chose to take a commission in the King’s Musketeers, in which you have the company of your friend Tempeste. You’ve picked up your dashing new uniform and celebrated at the best cabaret in Paris. You’ve had an argument with some Cardinal’s Guards and faced one of them in a pistol duel. You bravely chose to allow her to fire first, then, after she missed, you deliberately missed with your shot, ensuring your opponent gained the satisfaction and honor she required. Maybe the Guards will treat you with some respect now.

  It’s time to make a decision. Would you like to:

  Go to the list of choices and start reading from another part of the story?

  Or

  Go back to the beginning of the story and try another path?

  Aim to hit (firing second)

  D’Espesse’s shot barely missed you. You could have been killed or badly injured. This duel isn’t about the table in the cabaret—she probably wants to make an example of the Musketeers, show them they’re beneath the Cardinal’s Guards. And what better way to do that than defeat a new recruit in a duel, prove their new blood is unworthy by spilling it on the fields behind the Luxembourg? And there’d be one less Musketeer too—you.

  This duel is about her ego. She intended to shoot you over some trivial reason to enhance her reputation amongst the Guards and her notoriety amongst the Musketeers.

  And she barely missed. You’re lucky to be alive.

  Fuming, you raise your flintlock pistol and take aim.

  D’Espesse watches you intently, though, at this di
stance, in the misty light of dawn, you can’t decipher her expression. You wonder if she’s afraid.

  She doesn’t flinch as you take your time to line up your shot and ease the hammer back. After a few moments, you pull the trigger. A shower of sparks and a cloud of smoke accompany the loud crack of the gun firing. D’Espesse drops her pistol and clutches her upper arm, blood spreading between her fingers onto the white of her uniform. She snarls at you as her Second and the surgeon run over.

  You’ve hurt her, but not badly. Perhaps you’re not as bad a shot as Tempeste thought you were.

  “I didn’t expect you’d actually shoot her.” Tempeste approaches, her face pale. “Were you aiming to miss?”

  You’re about to reply when the adjudicator rushes over to the wounded d’Espesse. He picks up her discarded pistol without even enquiring how she is, stuffs it into his box without cleaning it and disappears into the swirling morning mist.

  “I wonder why he is in such a hurry?” Tempeste says. “He forgot to collect your pistol.”

  You shrug. It doesn’t matter.

  Twenty paces away, the surgeon opens her case, pulls out a long bandage and starts to wrap it around d’Espesse’s wound. Your opponent is sitting on the ground with her Second. She scowls at you.

  Then, abruptly, her expression changes to a grin.

  You turn. Four Cardinal’s Guards hurry towards you, their red cloaks with white Greek crosses standing out in the fingers of fog swirling around them.

  “You two there!” one of them calls. “In the name of the cardinal, wait!”

  “This can only be trouble. It’s like they were waiting for us,” says Tempeste. “Should we run?”

  “No, Tempeste, Musketeers never run away. Especially not from the Cardinal’s Guards.”

  “We’ll have to see what they want, then.”

  It turns out they want us. They squelch across the damp turf to confront us. The leader is d’Espesse’s companion from the cabaret, a lieutenant with a long nose and a haughty bearing called Bourdin. The others are a man, a woman, and Hubert.

  “We heard two pistol shots,” Lieutenant Bourdin accuses you. “Did you shoot someone?”

  “Duh,” Tempeste says before you can answer. “You already know that. It was your friend who challenged my friend to a duel last night at Le Mouton Blanc.”

  “I don’t recall any such thing,” declares the lieutenant. “Dueling is outlawed. Have you forgotten the edict?”

  Tempeste gasps. You groan. You’ve got a bad feeling about this. And now you’re acutely aware why, in the aftermath of the duel, the adjudicator collected your opponent’s pistol and vanished into the mist before taking yours. It still dangles loosely from your hand.

  Bourdin points at it. “There’s the evidence. A pistol, newly-fired. You’re both under arrest. You’ll have to come with us.”

  “What about them?” you say, turning and pointing to where your opponent and her Second were a couple of minutes ago. Your words trail off when you realize that they’re gone.

  Two of the Guards make exaggerated shows of peering into the mist. “I don’t see anyone,” the leader said.

  “We will not come with you!” you say. “This is an ambush. Your friend lost the duel and now you want to arrest us while ignoring her involvement. That’s dishonorable. Must I remind you that she was the challenger?” You glance at Hubert, who is standing zombie-like, staring at the ground. “Hubert. You saw everything at the cabaret. Say what really happened.”

  Hubert lifts his head and slowly shakes it from side to side.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Tempeste hisses.

  “It’s like he’s entranced,” you whisper. You place your hand on your sword grip and address the lieutenant: “Why not overlook what happened here? It’s less trouble for everyone. The easiest thing you can do is simply walk away.”

  The lieutenant isn’t swayed. “Surrender your swords and accompany us quietly, or we’ll charge you.”

  “What shall we do?” Tempeste whispers. “It’s three against two, or four against two if Hubert fights us too.”

  “That’s only two each,” you whisper back. You’re annoyed at the injustice of the situation, but you don’t want to fight your friend Hubert. Why won’t the Guards just walk away?

  As one, the Cardinal’s Guards, including Hubert, draw their rapiers and charge. You step forward, meeting the swords of the lieutenant and one other with your own, parrying the thrusts of each of them in turn. Tempeste faces off against the other female Guard, but she’s driven back by the ferocious attack.

  You can’t pay Tempeste’s combat much attention at the moment. Things are a little busy for you. Lieutenant Bourdin redoubles her attack, now slashing as well as thrusting. You parry two blows, sidestep, parry a thrust from your other opponent, then take a step back so you can shrug your cloak off. Grabbing your cloak with your left hand, you whirl it tightly around your arm and use it to fend off the lieutenant’s attacks. Meanwhile, you make a thrust that the other Guard is forced to parry. As your rapiers strike one another, you twist your wrist, moving your sword in a circular motion, breaking his grip and disarming him. The sword flies behind you and he scrambles back out of your reach.

  The lieutenant has her rapier tangled in your cloak, but she’ll have it free in a moment, and you’ll need a new cloak. You stab her through the thigh. She cries out, lets go of her sword, and drops to the ground, clutching her leg.

  Turning to see how Tempeste is getting on, you groan in disappointment. She’s lying on the ground, Hubert standing over her with the point of his rapier at her chest. His expression is blank.

  Next to him, her other opponent stands with a malevolent smile. “Yield,” she says.

  It’s time to make a decision. Do you:

  Yield, to save Tempeste?

  Or

  Fight on, regardless of Tempeste?

  Fight on, regardless of Tempeste

  You rush towards Hubert. The grinning Guard steps forward to engage you with her sword. You hold her at bay easily enough, but you can’t get past her. Beyond, Tempeste lies unmoving on the ground, Hubert standing unflinching above her, like a statue.

  An icy shiver races up your back. You’re aware that the Guard you disarmed has retrieved his rapier and is about to rejoin the fray. Lieutenant Bourdin is hobbling toward you too.

  Moments later, you’re trying to fight three people at once, on three different sides.

  Your cloak is in tatters. You discard it and whip your hat off to parry with. It’s an impressive and expensive hat and will soon be ruined by your opponent’s swords, but it’s better to have a ragged hat and be alive than have a fine, fancy hat to be buried in.

  You spin, keeping your opponents at swords’ length, desperately blocking every thrust and slash. But it’s too much, battling one against three. And now one against four, as Hubert joins the mêlée. They seem to be everywhere. Your hat is tattered from being used as a parrying object, and you throw what little remains of it in Hubert’s face.

  A sharp pain bursts in your left side, then your entire body. Horrified, you see the bloodied cold steel rapier tip emerge from the front of your body. Turning your head, you see the wounded lieutenant smirking at her revenge. Your legs collapse beneath you and your sword falls from your hand as you crash to the ground. Everything goes red, then black, and you remember no more.

  I’m sorry, this part of your story is over. It’s been an eventful—though short—career as a Musketeer. You accepted a challenge to a duel over an argument about a table in the cabaret and bravely allowed your opponent to fire first before shooting her in return. Her friends ambushed you and Tempeste, and you fought them, even though Tempeste was defeated. Had you yielded then, you’d still both be alive because you’d fought well and bravery is always respected, even in an enemy. But of course you’d have been taken before the king to explain yourself, so at least you’ve avoided that by getting yourself killed.

  How would it have g
one, facing the king? Do you want to find out? You could always try taking that last decision again.

  It’s time to make a decision. You have three choices. Would you like to:

  Change your last choice and yield?

  Or

  Go to the list of choices and start reading from another part of the story?

  Or

  Go back to the beginning of the story and try another path?

  Yield, to save Tempeste

  You throw your rapier to the turf. It can’t be a dishonor to give up the fight when you’re outnumbered four to one and your best friend’s life is threatened.

  Lieutenant Bourdin hobbles over, one hand pressing against the wound in her thigh. “Wise choice, young Musketeer. You’ve saved yourself and your friend. And now we will take you before the king to explain yourselves.”

  “I’ll tell him that you ambushed us,” you say.

  “Ah, but the two of you are merely recruits, whereas there are four of us, and three of us are experienced officers. Our testimony will carry more weight with the king.” The lieutenant sneers.

  Should you believe her? Behind you, you see Hubert staring at Tempeste as she gets to her feet. She’s not wounded, fortunately.

  One of the Guards calls for the surgeon. In the swirling morning mist, you can’t even see the surgeon, d’Espesse and her Second, but a minute later, the surgeon strides over. She has a look at the lieutenant’s injured leg from both sides, squeezes it none too gently, and says, “That doesn’t look bad. It’s a clean wound. I’ll bandage it for you.”

  The surgeon spits on her hands, rubs them together as if warming them up, pulls a long bandage from her bag and drops it onto the wet ground. She unravels it and then winds it around the lieutenant’s leg until the blood staining is no longer visible.