The Sinner's Tale

Marigold: "Despicable, perverted, frightened virgins! Each of them cruelly forcing their own twisted chastity on ye poor boys. I promise thee, Percival, they knew nothing of the Most High's will. They knew only of hate, and pushing their own fear and misery on thee and thy brethren."

Percival: "Indeed they were most cruel, Lady. I pray thou art right and my shame... not be shameful."

[Marigold shakes her head, clearing her mind of the storm of rage that had filled her.]

Marigold: "I could take care of that for thee, Percival."

Percival: "Of my shame, lady? Pray, how could thou cure me?"

Marigold: "Place it in mine mouth."

[Percival, usually a hearty brown color, fades sickly white. His feet become very heavy, and his vision blurs. Marigold laughs uproariously as Percival is forced to sit down, so great is his shock.]

Marigold: "Only the Most High in his infinite mercy could forgive my err, were I to outright slay my new squire with my half-jests. Come Percival! Let us bathe. There is evil on the horizon, and tomorrow we shall have dealings with it."

[Marigold jogs to the river, quickly running in to wash herself off. Percival waits just a moment, recovering before following her. As they bathe, they talk and splash, and Percival has only one thing running through his head. 'Half-jest'?]

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[For many months they travel together, having many adventures, defeating many evils, and rescuing many innocents. Each journey, Marigold explains that it is the Most High who is guiding them, urging them onward quickly or permitting them to dawdle slowly from one place to the next. She explains that each of their quests comes only in the time of the Most High.

In this time, Percival watches and listens to Marigold, learning her version of the Most High. From her view, the Most High acts only in love, has no jealousy, no unjust rage, no selfishness, and gives freely to all who ask. Percival yearns to release his old version of the Most High, finding a surreal peace with Marigold's teachings.

So too does his physical strength and stature grow. Marigold begins to train with Percival, teaching him about swordplay, battle formations, and martial combat. Occasionally, she even helps him into the armor, watching him struggle around with the massive weight. He is slow, and still much weaker than Marigold, but he makes progress.]

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[Marigold holds up her hand.]

Marigold: "This is it."

[Percival looks around the little cottage. A single door on the front, and to the rear a small patch for farming. Green sprouts poke up through the soil. Behind that, a pen for animals. The bleating of goats can be heard. The shack is small, perhaps room enough for a small family.]

Percival: "Aye, Lady."

[He does not question her. Many times Marigold has found someone in need of help with the same irrational confidence. She walks to the door, knocking. A man opens, young but weathered by hard work. His hands are calloused and his hair is dirty, but he is still dignified, and his face is serious. He is stern in speech.]

Man: "What dost thou require? Hast thou come for coin? Spit it out, then!"

Marigold: "Did thou pray?"

Man: "I... beg thy pardon?"

Marigold: "Thou prayed to the Most High, did thou not? For protection or some other fashion of violence."

Man: "Verily... We did pray."

[The man is very confused, staring in disbelief. Marigold gestures to herself and Percival generally.]

Marigold: "And He hath answered. I am called Marigold, and this lad is Percival. We shall crush thy enemies."

Man: "...Oh."

[Marigold laughs.]

Marigold: "So strange is the mind of a believer! That thou would pray unto the Most High with all faith, and in all belief, knowing he will deliver thee, yet still art thou shocked when he doth! May we come in?"

[She does not wait for an answer, pushing past him. Percival hesitates, but follows, tying Petunia to a hitch post nearby. Inside is a quaint, homey log house with a small kitchen and bed. A loft is prepared for children, of whom Percival spots three hiding behind their mother's skirts. She is by the kitchen table, and seems as confused as her husband when Marigold enters.]

Marigold: "Hello little ones! I hath brought for thee sweets. The Most High told me thou art most mindful of thy parents, and he wishes to reward thee."

[Marigold reaches into a pocket, pulling out a small bundle, contained within is a pile of sugary confections. She holds the bundle out to the children. The mother watches, still speechless with confusion as the children now stare at the sweets. There are three little ones, no more than seven years old. It doesn't take much coaxing, and they begin to move towards Marigold, looking to their mother for confirmation. She nods, and they quickly snatch the sweets from Marigold's hand, each mumbling a thank you. They leave one sweet in her hand, which Marigold eats herself.]

Marigold: "Most pleased am I to meet thee, Lady of the House. The Most High hath sent us as an answer to thy prayers. I beg thee, tell us thy request to the Most High, for this he hath kept from mine eyes."

[Marigold makes herself at home, kicking back on a stool and removing her boots as she is speaking. She begins to rub her feet. The mother dismisses the children, ordering them to play outside, as the couple sits across from Marigold. Marigold is picking at her toenails, and then pulls a knife to trim them.]

Man: "Is it true, thou art a messenger of the Most High?"

Marigold: "Aye."

Woman: "Our manners, Lady Knight, please forgive us our rudeness. We had not expected so prompt an answer.. I am called Edith, and mine husband is Peter."

Marigold: "Thou prayed with great faith, yet doubted an answer?"

Edith: "Truthfully, we did doubt."

[It is Marigold's turn to look confused. She shrugs it off.]

Marigold: "Well clearly thou possessed enough faith. I am here. And so is Strong Percival! The Most High hath answered thee. Now come, what is the object of the prayer? The Most High sendeth me only to do violence, so I daresay thou haven't sickness or hunger!"

Peter: "Nay Lady, no sickness have we, nor hunger, our crop has been most plentif-"

[Marigold cuts her little toe with the knife, curses, and begins to bandage it. She motions for him to keep going.]

Peter: "-... uh, we are most grateful for thee, uh, Lady, and thou, Percival. Hooligans have fallen upon us Lady, and laid upon us taxes. For protection, they doth claim, the levy of fees is too great for us to account, and they say if we do not pay, they will have our children for servants, to work off our debt."

Marigold: "By right of what lord do they levy this tax?"

Edith: "None. Ere a fortnight, we were beset horribly by wolves, and the hooligans did slaughter the lot. We fed them much, and thanked them plenty, but they did demand more and more of our gratitude, eating our crop and slaughtering our young billy goat. In time we were forced to ask them to release us from our debt. They grew outraged. Then did they levy on us this tax."

Marigold: "'Tis a shameful display, and most displeasing to the Most High, to demand payment, and so much more shameful a payment so steep, for a kind turn. Their good deeds are blackened with the evil of their hearts. The Most High will curse them."

Peter: "Perhaps it will be as thou say, Lady, but pray answer me this: How will thou deal with our enemy? They are great in number and skill with a blade. Have thou a great host?"

Marigold: "Nay, only Strong Percival. What number have thou counted? Precisely wilt thou answer me, as lives may depend on it."

Peter: "Seven, no more and no less. They did stay with us for a time, and my count is assured."

Marigold: "Six for thee and one for me, ey Percival?"

[Marigold looks to Percival with a smile, perhaps expecting to catch him off guard. But Percival has grown more used to her jests in his time with her.]

Percival: "Aye, Marigold, if I have but a little generosity, I'll leave thee a place to put thy sword."

[Marigold laughs uproariously. The sound is tremendous. Peter and Edith are shocked by her outburst.]

Marigold: "Young Percival has been in mine presence too long! Generous enough sayeth he! Ah, very well. I'll grant thee my falchion, Percival, and I'll see thee in battle. Now tell me, Peter and Edith, servants of the Most High, where may we find these scoundrels? We'll make short work of them, I've no doubt."

Edith: "This, clearly, is the providence of the Most High, as it is on this, the same day you arrive, that they swore to return and collect their tax. Indeed, we thought t'were them, ere we answered thy knock."

Marigold: "And thou answered anyways. Brave are thee. Come, Percival!"

[Marigold stands. She lets her belt loose, and takes the great heavy falchion and its sheath that rest on her hip, offering them to Percival. Meekly he accepts, beginning to realise she was serious about letting him do battle alongside her. He follows her outside, where he aids her in the now familiar process of donning her armor. She whistles a tune as they kit her. Once done, she retrieves her Zweihander sword from Petunia's saddle, placing it on her back. She once again cuts an intimidating and terrifying figure, taller than nearly any man, heavier and stronger too. Percival can not help but admire her power and form, and the beauty that he finds in her strength. But he hesitates still, the steel of her falchion clasped in his hands nervously.]

Marigold: "Art thou nervous, Percival? Thy knuckles are as alabaster. If thou grip my sword but a little more, thou will shatter it in thy fingers."

Percival: "Truthfully, I am afraid. I have never done battle, and save in practice with thee, never have I brandished blade or faced a foe."

Marigold: "Then sit thee out, Percival. There are scant seven men in creation I fear to meet in combat, and impossibly are they all in the same band of thugs. Get thee inside."

[She waves him off dimissively. And though Marigold frequently jokes and prods, Percival can tell this is not her typical joke. She is deadly serious. If he is afraid, then she will let him run. But Percival steels his will.]

Percival: "Nay. I would be as thee, fearless in battle and strong. I will learn to fight alongside thee."

[Marigold smiles with genuine warmth beneath her helmet.]

Marigold: "I would have thee nowhere else, mine friend."

[They make no preparations. Marigold simply has them sit by the entrance to the cottage and wait. The sun wheels through the sky. Edith and Peter check on them periodically. The two parents can be occasionally heard inside arguing, despite their attempts to speak quietly. Edith seems to have faith that Marigold and Percival are sent from the Most High, while Peter seems to think their presence will enrage the thugs more. Marigold is unfazed. She spends her time retracing her lessons on swordsmanship and battle tactics with Percival.

With less than an hour to sunset, their conversations are interrupted by the sound of boots in the dirt, approaching the cottage. Three men approach, each wearing a heavy barding and carrying a sword. They are rough looking- perhaps from a long time on the road. Their beards are unkempt and the skin is dirty. Marigold stands, approaching them, and beckoning for Percival to remain at the house.]

Marigold: "What favor can I do ye?"

[She begins conversing with them outside of hearing range. After a second, Peter opens the door, stepping out to watch.]

Peter: "Thither ist yon band of scoundrels. They art in peaceful discourse?"

Percival: "Indeed. Marigold is as wise with words and soft in speech as she is mighty in battle. If there exists a gentle solution, she will discover it yet."

[They continue to watch for several seconds. The conversation escalates slightly, with one of the ruffians yelling now. Percival speaks with Peter as Marigold attempts to calm them.]

Percival: "Thou said their number was seven. I count only three here."

Peter: "My count was sure. Some of their number are amiss."

Percival: "Is it possible they have crept off for some foul reason, perhaps to surround us better? Get thee with thy children, I shall make a pass round the back of thy house."

[Peter quickly moves into his house, and Percival sets off around the side. He rounds the back of the building, the garden plot and animal pens coming into view. He finds a child outside, no more than six, a wood splitting axe in his tiny hands.]

Percival: "Child! Thou art missing from thy mother! With a weapon... Did thou fein to attack thy enemies? Get thee back inside."

[The Child is resolute, brandishing his weapon.]

Child: "I will be like the lady Marigold, and defend my home from these villains!"

[Percival rolls his eyes, but he can't hide his smile. Calmly, he collects the child in his arms, preparing to carry the boy back to his mother.]

Percival: "Aye Brave Knight, but thy place is alongside thy mother and thy siblings, to defend the helpless."

[Percival stops mid stride. Two of the men have left the woods and moved in front of him, cutting him off behind the building. He was correct when he assumed they had intended to surround them. His smile drops. He opts for the more peaceful option, turning to retreat in the opposite direction. He is stopped here too, as the remaining two of the bandit gang appear at his back, surrounding him completely. He pauses. The men begin to advance, uttering some order about dropping the child and his weapon.]

Percival: "Thy fellows are in council with mine liege, and not yet is their need for violence..."

Child: "Get thee gone, scoundrels! As mine mother sayeth, strong Percival and Lady Marigold will have thy guts before dinner, as the Most High wills!"

Bandit: "Thy mother is a fool then, boy. If a fight she wishes, she'll see one yet!"

Percival: "Oh curse thy tongue, boy!"

Percival eyes the back of the house, where a window at about shoulder height stands open. The bandits are within ten feet when he has made up his mind. Percival bolts for the open window, thrusting the child violently towards the opening, throwing the unafraid boy headlong through the opening. The bandits are on Percival instantly, one of them roughly grabs him by the throat, tossing him violently out of the way. Percival hits the ground and rolls, his breath knocked from his body. The force of his impact leaves him stunned. Through the shuttering gasps racking his body, he looks up, spying the feet of the child he had attempted to thrust to freedom. One of the bandits has fingers wrapped around the child's ankles. The boy, who is mostly through the window, fights furiously to free himself and slide the rest of the way into the home. The villain is winning.]

Percival: "M-...nnngh."

[No help is coming. Behind him, Percival's path is open. Fleeing is an easy option, as the four bandits are focused on the boy. But Percival remembers his promise to Marigold. He remembers when he hesitated in the rain, outside Ruth's house, and how Marigold was disappointed with him.

Still shocked and unable to breath, he forces himself to his feet, wrestling the falchion from it's sheath at his side. He sucks in a breath and finds his voice. A guttural, monster growl escapes his mouth as he rallies.With the blade parallel to the ground he charges like a jouster, ramming the tip into the back of the villain holding the boy. Instantly the man releases the child, who slips into the home. So great is the force of Percival's attack, the tip of the falchion has passed through the villain cleanly, embedding in the wall. He struggles to free himself, but the power of Percival's rage has hopelessly pinned him. Percival is quickly beset by the other three scoundrels. One of them runs him through with a longsword. Another slashes at his neck with an axe. With no more rage in him, Percival collapses instantly under the attacks. Once on the ground, the whirling and slicing blades are replaced by heavy steel clad boots to the face, neck and stomach. He feels bones break in his chest as one of them kicks him in the diaphragm. He begins to lose his vision. Through broken teeth, he gasps:]

Percival: "Most High... God... send thy servant.'

[He feels darkness may take him. The stab wound in his stomach aches badly. The dirt he lays in cakes in his eyes. He has just barely the power to roll over. What he sees relieves him. A giant clad in iron. A knight of pure wrath and fury. A beast of steel made only to kill. Marigold stands over him. An armored foot planted on either side of him, and for the first time ever, Percival sees her do battle with her zweihänder. The massive two hand sword impales a bandit. The thug is lifted into the air with the blade through his torso. Marigold is screaming.]

Marigold: "IF HE DIES, I'LL EAT THY CORPSE, BASTARD!"

[She heaves the blade to one side, tossing the body like a doll. The men ready themselves, still facing her. This clearly is a mistake, and they should have run headlong away. Marigold brings the blade over her head, cleaving down on the next bandit. He attempts to block with the handle of his axe held high. The strength of his arms is sufficient, but the wooden axe handle is not. Marigold's blade cleaves the weapon in two, burying into the forehead of the unlucky villain. She wrenches it free and turns to the other two, who are by now fleeing. Her rage does not subside, and her bloodlust is unsated. Instead of chasing, she elects to fling her blade end over end at them with a shout of fury. The hilt smashes into the head of one of them, knocking him cold. Percival smiles at the sight. Marigold turns her attention to her friend, gently clutching him in her arms.

Marigold: "No, no, no, Thou mustn't die. No no no no, PETER! Fetch bandages and water! Percival! Stay in the light!"

[He does not stay in the light, his eyes shutting on their own.]

[Percival awakens in the soft light of Peter and Edith's cottage. Every part of his body aches, but his head is the worst off. Edith sits nearby at the fire, shelling peas. She hums a sweet tune.]

Percival: "Have thou... water?"

[She is up in a flash, fetching a ladle of water from nearby and sating Percival as best she can.]

Edith: "Rest, Percival, rest. Thou art most fortunate. Many men would have died from the same attack. Do not speak, I see thou art trying. Nay, I will answer thy questions without thee asking. Marigold is well. She has scant left thy side save to hunt for us once. She hath brought back a doe, and is cleaning it even now. Your liege is outside with mine husband. Thou fell unconscious three days, and took a fever on the eve of the second, which I daresay thou still has. Marigold has been as kind as a nurse as she is mighty in battle. Rest, speak not. I will fetch thy Lady."

[Percival does as commanded. Edith exits the hut, and returns moments later with Marigold. She is covered to the elbow in blood, and her face is disfigured with worry. She rushes to Percival's side, kneeling. She fills his vision, a fearful smile on her face. Her long golden hair tumbles down her shoulders, and he stares into her fair and perfect eyes.]

Marigold: "Brave hero. Brave Boy- nay a man are thee. I had feared so greatly for thy life. I would never have forgiven mine own errors, Percival, had thou passed. We did it, my dearest friend. We rid these kind folk of their enemy. The Most High is pleased with thee. I am proud. Thou hast done as I asked - overcome thy hesitation. Thou art most blessed, surely."

[It is another three weeks before Percival can walk. Marigold seems eager to depart, and Percival is not one to question her. As soon as he is able, they are back on the move, making their way through country roads to some other unknown, predetermined location. Peter and Edith attempted to thank them with food and money, but Marigold wholeheartedly rejected it all, save for some vegetables, insisting that the Most High would pay their wage. That night, Marigold and Percival make camp in an open field, setting Petunia to graze. Nearby a small brook babbles, adding a pleasant background atmosphere.They eat a hearty meal of carrots, warm venison, and water.]