S7: Holy War

"Treat her right, love for the rest of your life, and we'll call it square. Oh, and if you happen to have a few children, I'll make you the same deal Jack has. Diamond earrings for the first one, a nice necklace for two, three and over gets her a really nice mother's ring in the right colors, all from you, of course. My name doesn't need to come up in any of this."

He just grinned while Josh hung on every word. "You better have one in reserves, Pop, just in case."

"Already taken care of. No need to rush though. When you find her you'll know. I did with your Mom. One look at that skinny little spitfire protesting against the inequality of the world, or doing leg work for a pro bono case she was helping a lawyer on, and I knew."

Miles and he were looking at me wide eyed, and I heard a gasp from behind me. I turned to see Jess with her hands to her face. "What happened between you, Daddy? Mom refuses to talk about it, she just says it's her fault. When did you stop loving her?"

"People change, honey, and sometimes you don't like what they change into, and just so you know, just because we're no longer together doesn't mean I don't love her still. But the trust was broken beyond repair, and I'm doing a Forrest Gump here. That's all I have to say about that."

...

We all got to hold the baby. When I got her they almost had to tug her out of my arms. She was perfectly formed, and I saw a string of broken hearts in her future. Maybe I'd need to borrow the shotgun from Fatima in about fifteen years.

We let the happy couple rest and reconnect, and I took everyone else to France for a holiday. Teddy had made introductions, and we were the guests of a French Count, at his estate. His vineyard was huge, and Miles was like a kid at Christmas. The first day was filled with all things wine. Miles talked to everyone from the laborers to the business manager., soaking up knowledge like a sponge. We literally had to drag him out of the fields.

The Count was about my age, tall, tanned, and he had the aristocratic thing down pat. All the women were meant to be awed, and the males were supposed to realize they were in the presence of a superior man. It didn't work out like that at all. We were Americans, and it took more than a title to impress us.

The ladies soon noticed the undercurrent around the table, and a few minutes later Jo was smiling. I caught a glance at her and had to turn away before I laughed out loud. She had sized him up and he didn't stand very tall. After about twenty minutes of tales from his glorious ancestry, Jo asked a simple question.

"Tell me, Count, what contribution have you made to your glorious lineage? Tell us a tale of YOUR daring and courage." She batted her eyes and seemed breathless as she waited his reply.

He blustered a bit before shrugging his shoulders. "Alas, it pains me to tell you there hasn't been an opportunity in my life yet to test my mettle. Surely you know what that is like, madame. After all, your husband is a professor and researcher, from what Teddy told me. Not much of an opportunity for adventure and battle in that field."

He was smirking at me, and was shocked when he turned and saw Jo trying to hold her laughter. When she got her breath back she agreed.

"I'd rather have a live professor than a dead adventurer, am I right ladies?"

Mom and Marie were also holding in laughter as they agreed, and the Count, knowing there was a joke there he wasn't getting, changed the subject to wine, boring most of us to tears.

It soon became pretty apparent he didn't know what he was talking about, but we were polite as he droned on until it was time for bed. If his stories were correct, his ancestors had practically invented the grape.

Just when I thought I might actually kill him if he told one more boring story of his genetic superiority, he announced that his butler would show us to our rooms. Mom and Marie had decided to share a room, and we dropped them off before continuing down an enormous hallway, stopping for Miles and Jess, then Josh, finally ending up at the end of the hall.

"The guest suite." said the butler, expecting us to be awed. One room? I started to speak but Jo smiled and said she was sure it was lovely.

I started to protest after the door closed but she shut me up. "Suck it up, Pete. We slept together for almost twenty-five years, one more night isn't going to kill you. Besides, I have the feeling if I was alone, I'd have a late night visitor, extolling the joys of being allowed to bask in his presence. Now let's go to bed, I'm tired."

She disappeared into the bathroom, coming out later in a gown that hit just above her knees. It was almost transparent and I could see the matching panty underneath. She saw me and twirled, grinning.

"I like this gown. It's really comfortable. I didn't know we would be sharing, but I don't care. If you see something different, feel free to comment on it."

She flounced as much as a woman of her age could over to the bed, slipping under the covers. "I'll probably be asleep by the time you finish your shower. Try not to be too loud, please."

She was indeed asleep when I returned to the bedroom, right in the middle of the bed. Apparently she now slept like a rock, because it was all I could do to get her moved over enough to get in, and I was right on the edge at that. She rolled over, dragging me along, until we were spooned together. I must have been exhausted myself, for I too was asleep within minutes.

I woke a few hours later with Jo pushing her butt into me, and I was reacting accordingly. Feeling me grow, her hand snaked around, gripping me tightly. Just as I was about to speak she rolled over and I don't believe I've ever experienced a better kiss. By the time it was done we were both gasping. She pushed me back and mounted me, her fingers on my lips.

"Hush, Pete. Don't overthink this, all right? Just let it happen."

Apparently her panties had evaporated sometime in the night, because they were gone. She gripped me as she slid slowly down, until she was fully seated. Letting out a satisfied sigh, she started rocking lightly, grinding into me as she rotated her hips, then she'd bounce rapidly for a few seconds before returning to her slow rotation. I held out for about five minutes before I rolled her over, pumping slightly faster and with more force. As soon as she started moaning I stopped, slipping, slowly, gently, back and forth.

That lasted a few minutes before she locked her legs round me, hissing into my ear. "Enough playing, damn it! Fuck me until I scream! Then go harder!"

I followed her instructions to the letter. She had been teased past the point of control, and I felt the gush of liquids as she screamed into the pillow. I got faster, slamming into her with so much force the bed was moving. She just managed to scream out her second when I flooded her. It had been a while.

I flopped over to the side, and Jo immediately crawled on top of me, and started kissing her way up. nipping my nipple when she reached it, giggling as I jerked. She kissed my neck, nibbling to the point I thought she'd leave marks, before putting another full lip lock on me.

Then she sighed and went to sleep. I let her lay as long as I could stand it and then gently slid her over, where she immediately snuggled to me and started snoring. I had to prod her to roll over so I could get to sleep.

A couple hours later I woke just as she started riding me reverse cowgirl, pistoning harder and harder until I had to get a firm grip on her ass to keep her seated. It only lasted a few minutes, and Jo squealed as she joined me. Then she bounced up giggling and disappeared into the bathroom, appearing again in a different gown sans panties, with a warn cloth, which she used to clean me thoroughly. Jo giggled again as she bounced into bed, warning me.

"No more hanky panky, mister. Enough is enough."

I started to remind her she was the instigator both times, but she was already asleep again.

Jo was not through with me, because I woke about seven to find myself engulfed to the root. It was warm, wet, and loving, and she refused to stop until I filled her mouth. That might have been an exaggeration, because I was pretty well drained from the night before.

She popped out from under the covers grinning, kissed my cheek, and dragged me to the shower. I thanked her for her kindness by wrapping my arms around her gripping one nipple firmly and proceeded to massage her to an orgasm that left her shaking and drained. To keep from screaming she'd bitten my arm to the point of drawing blood. We got out, dried, and started getting ready for the day. Dressed, she wrapped her arms around me as I shaved.

"We're not going to talk about this, ever. It happened because we wanted it to happen, and that should be enough. Now, get dressed, I'm suddenly very hungry."

She did managed to smack my butt with a wet towel as she walked out grinning.

The Count was in a definitely bad mood at breakfast. Miles, Jess, and Josh were joining The Count's nephew for a tour of some neighboring vineyards, on horseback. They were packing a picnic and couldn't wait to get started.

"Perhaps you'd like to tour the East Wing before lunch. It has several antiquities you might enjoy."

It was less a request than a demand, but we followed the Count, more to keep the peace than anything else. Say what you will about the Count, he did have some pretty famous ancestors. There was a photo of a small man, sitting at a desk, with a pistol in plain sight. The same pistol was in a presentation case beneath the picture.

"My uncle," said the Count, proudly. "He was a radio operator for the Underground. He was exposed, and as they closed in me took his own life, to keep from betraying his compatriots."

The next case held a full uniform of a WW1 French captain, complete with gas mask. The Count explained it belonged to his great grandfather. There were several medals, some quite high, on the breast of the jacket. We continued onward until even I was bored, until at last we got to the end.

I have to say it was impressive, even by my standards. A full suit of armor and white tunic of a Knight Templar. I was amazed at how vibrant the red on the tunic was, even after all these centuries.

"My great uncle, thirty one times removed. He was one of the last nine burned at the stake, wiping the Knights out completely. All his belongings were carefully hidden away. This estate it the only thing left of his once vast holdings."

The Count beamed as I admired it. Just beyond it was a display case with a Knights' sword and six scimitars, spoils of battle no doubt. He reverently unlocked the case and handed the knight's blade out.

It was a standard Templar sword, just a little over three feet long from pommel to tip. You could tell it was much used by the wear on the handle, and the nicks on the guard from the swords of enemies. The blade, though, was in excellent shape, true to balance and still sharp.

The scimitars were a mix, and I pulled out the longest, over five feet, much less curved than the others. I knew enough to know it was Polish, and wondered how it came into the collection. Testing the balance, I went through the first few moves of the Persian Manual Of Arms, reveling in the feel.

"You're familiar with this weapon?"

"I am, Count. I actually own one, probably made in Syria. It's shorter and the blade is more curved, but still a very effective weapon."

"Come out into the garden, examine it in natural light."

It was more a command than a request, so Jo and I shrugged and followed him. He turned and grinned, going through a series of moves.

"Well done, Count. You've obviously trained."

"Not to brag, but I'm considered expert by my peers. Care for a little match?"

"Not a good idea with naked swords. Do you have practice swords? I wouldn't mind the exercise."

He smirked. "Come on, I'll take it easy on you. Or are you afraid?"

I grinned. "That's it exactly. I'm afraid."

Jo looked at me in surprise. "Afraid? Really? After..."

"Enough, Jo. And what I'm afraid of is hurting him."

His smirk became a snarl as he heard what I said.

"Do you think a mere commoner could best me? I've trained for years. I guarantee I would have you unarmed and begging at the tip of my sword in less than a minute. But please, hide behind your wife and excuses. I'm surprised though. I thought the leader of the infamous S7 would welcome such a challenge."

Jo flared up. "You'd best be afraid. You have no idea who you're dealing with. He's..."

"Just a professor of ancient languages and a researcher. But, Count, I have trained, in several styles. The one I'm currently studying is pretty vicious. There are no half moves. Every one is designed to kill as quickly as possible. Never underestimate your opponent."

He was a stubborn bastard. "Come now, I'm sure you can maintain discipline. Tell you what, if you best me you can keep the sword."

He must believe in his heart he could win or he would never have made the offer. Still, I smelled a trap.

"And if I lose?"

"Ah, if you lose, I get to enjoy a night with your wife. I'll try not to ruin her, but once she's been with..."

Jo cut him off. "It's a bet, you condescending bastard! Honey, try not to hurt him...too badly."

We were both stunned, but the Count strode to the middle of the stone patio and raised his sword.

"En garde!"

I just stood, the scimitar held low, waiting.

Finally he attacked. I'll give him his due, he was good. I spent the first couple of minutes defending, looking for a weak spot. Apparently he didn't have any. I finally countered, and while he was hard pressed, he defended himself well. We went back and forth across the patio several times.

It wasn't until I changed to my new style, the Phillipine form that was the basis for the knife training the Russians, U.S., and the Israeli taught their elite forces, that momentum shifted decidedly in my favor.

He thrust, and I deflected the sword, twirling around until I was behind him, leaving his back exposed. I grinned as I brought the flat of my scimitar across his backside as hard as I could. That was gonna leave a mark.

The Count literally roared in rage and tried his best to kill me, even nicking my arm pretty good. I think Jo screamed at that point, but I was so focused it barely registered. Once again he over committed and I brought the flat of my sword hard against his hands, forcing him to drop his weapon. Instantly I had the blade to his throat. "I think, Count, that the contest is over. Well fought."

Just to be sure, I kicked his saber away and turned my back. Jo was smiling until I was almost to her when her expression changed to one of horror. She opened her mouth just as I heard the footsteps behind me. Not bothering to turn, I dropped like a rock.

I didn't make it all the way down when it felt like my head exploded. I lay there, stunned, as the Count grinned down at me. "I practice Savate, and wear a white sash. I'm going to enjoy kicking you to..."

That was all he got out before Jo hit him with a ceramic vase, one of many placed around the patio. It broke, and he dropped. He fell beside me, and before either of us could move, people started running by me.

The kids were just starting their ride when they saw us on the patio. They just watched in wonder until he kicked me from behind. They immediately abandoned the horses, and Josh and Miles dragged the Count away from me. Jess was right behind them, and before anyone could stop her she'd nailed him in the balls with her riding boot. Twice. He threw up and passed out. His nephew pulled her off to keep her from killing him. Miles and Josh immediately got off the Count, and started towards him.

"STOP!" I yelled with just enough authority to still the whole crowd. His nephew had let go of Jess and was kneeling beside his uncle.

"Perhaps you'd like to call a doctor," I suggested quietly, once I had his attention.

He shook himself, gathered his thoughts, and made a call. Forty-five minutes later the Count was being wheeled towards an ambulance. I walked up as he was being loaded and bent down so that only he could hear me.

"We both got a valuable lesson today, Count. Never turn your back on a live enemy. I for one will not forget. After you've recovered, if you want a rematch, you know how to get in touch with me. But I'm afraid it might be a little harder for you if my back isn't turned. You talk of the honor of your house, but I bet right now they're all rolling in their graves, especially the Templar. Your mettle was tested, sir, and you were found lacking. I thank you for your hospitality, but I think we'll end our holiday a little early."

The doctor looked me over, put three stitches in my arm, and looked at lump on the back of my head. He told Jo to keep an eye on me for a few days, giving her a list of things to watch for.

I sat in the back, dozing fitfully while Jo kept an ice pack on my lump all the way back to England. I was definitely getting too old for this.

...

We visited with Jack and Polly, drooling over the baby for the next three days, until the kids went home. Jo stayed another three weeks, in the house I procured for her, finally going home when her vacation ran out. We enjoyed several nice dinners together, but there was no repeat of what happened in France. She hugged, kissed and cried all over each of us until she almost missed her flight.

Two weeks later she got a call from Maddy, telling her she was forwarding something from me. It was the scimitar. I got a warm call and a nice thank you.

"I'm hanging it over the mantle, and smile every time I look at it, and tell the whole story to anyone who asks about how I got it."

"Seriously? Nobody will believe a story like that."

Just before she hung up, she told me to go to Youtube and check out a video. I looked it up, to see almost the whole sword fight, including him hitting me from behind and Jo clobbering him with the vase, captured on the phones of my children and Miles, They spliced together the best shots, and released it under the title "COWARDLY COUNT GETS HIS ASS KICKED BY AN AMERICAN COLLEGE PROFESSOR!"

By the time I saw it there had been a little over one million hits. The BBC got hold of it, and wanted me to do an interview while they played the clip. I declined, saying it was just friendly competition that got out of hand. The Count was humiliated, and tried to sue me, but the legal system in France dissuaded him. One lawyer put it best.

"What, exactly, will you be suing him for? If you do find a reason, the press will be all over it, playing the clip almost every time they broadcast. How many more millions do you want to view it?"

Teddy gave me hell. "You rude American! No breeding at all. I swear, what shall become of you?" Then he laughed, and said he deserved it. "Insufferable bastard, really. I only tolerate him because my brother's company distributes his wines. Good on you for teaching him a little humility."

Then he got down to business. "Our paper is done on the Mary Magdalene letters. That should stir the pot a bit."

Apparently Mary and Peter did not get on well, each jealous of the position the other held. She was less than flattering of his abilities in at least three of her letters. Her gospel would have been legendary because of the way she thought women should be treated in this new religion, holding much larger roles in important positions, including ministering. If it was the same Gospel the church held, no wonder it never saw the light of day.

Ian was almost incoherent when we finally let him read it. "No bloody way will I let you publish this!

"Well, Ian, it's a good thing you don't have the authority to stop us, now isn't it? Why are you so afraid?"