Bannockburn

“I still donâ€t believe youâ€re truly hearing what Iâ€m saying,” Odessa would say, as she grabbed another few fried pieces of potato and chewed on them idly, “but I suppose thereâ€ll be no convincing you in any case. Suffice it to say that I prefer a balance between the two parts of my pie, the crust and the filling, rather than having one completely overpower the other.”

She would take another healthy sip of her English beer, listening with interest as Emily made her next point. While she seemed to be joking, Odessa got the feeling that she was serious on at least one point. “Now, you certainly couldnâ€t say that. Donâ€t forget, dear, that I do have a fine London education—you canâ€t pull the wool over my eyes, no, not even in history. Now, as I understand it, the Picts inhabited Scotland and the Britons inhabited England during ancient times. Subsequently, the Anglo-Saxons and then the Normans took over England, while Scotland, too, was taken over, by the Irish—the Gaels—at just around the same time. The Scottish peoples never settled in England because, had they tried, Boudicca and her brethren would have sent them scurrying back to the Highlands.” Odessa chuckled and took another swig of her beer.

“Ultimately, yes, it is both your island and our island. That was a slight slip of the tongue on my part, darling. Though you must consider what language is spoken all across the island, from the Isle of Skye to Penzance to London.” Odessa would shrug and smile as she began to cut into her second piece of fish, dipping it into malt vinegar before swallowing it. She enjoyed it just as much as she had its twin a minute earlier.

Emily felt her blood rise a little when Odessa made her counter. A counter which was--technically-- true. She couldn't believe she had forgotten about the first indigenous Britons, and wondered if perhaps she was getting a little bit too drunk to forget such a thing. No, she decided with a swig of ale, she was just fine.

"Aye, tis both our island," she sighed. "And its just as well English is the common tongue-- I'd shudder to hear what horrid mangling English tongues would do tae proper Scots Gaelic." At least the common language isn't Welsh, she added mentally.

She leaned towards Odessa with a sly grin, now seeming a little more tipsy. "Though I DO wonder how history would have changed if th' Romans hadn't built their lovely little wall-- which they made tae keep the Picts out, by th' way, because they were much more scared of them than of th' Britons. I wonder how that bonnie lass Boudicca would have fared against a wave of angry Picts coming down from the north, without any Roman wall standing in their way..."

“Iâ€m sure we would manage perfectly well,” Odessa would reply, before downing the last remaining liquid left in her glass. Undeterred, she would order another pint, and, in seemingly no time at all, it had appeared before her. She took another deep gulp of that one between bites of fish and chips.

As Emily leaned forward, Odessa would as well, so that their faces were now very close together. Odessa held her alcohol very well, but now she had three and almost a half pints in her, and she was feeling a warm, pleasant buzz that would spur her onwards as she and Emily continued to debate. “While Iâ€m not one to defend the Romans, I will point out that they were hardly scared of the Picts, as you claim. Or are you forgetting that there was a second Roman wall built—at the Firth of Forth, almost halfway into Pictish lands?” She tittered and took another swig of ale. She was glad that she remembered these small facts, even after all of these years out of school.

“And letâ€s also consider the fact that the Picts and the Gaels never once attempted to resist the Roman advance into the British Isles in any substantial way. Who shed blood to free the island from the Roman Empireâ€s rule? Who fought tooth and nail, against all odds, while their northern neighbors ran away?” Odessa would ask these questions with a smile, though a little knot of her rarely-seen English patriotism was beginning to swell in her chest.

“You underestimate Boudicca and the Britons. Boudicca was, in my estimation, the greatest woman our island has ever seen. Forget about the common soldiers—put Boudicca up against even the strongest Pictish woman and she would have undoubtedly emerged the victor, no matter the weapons, no matter the arena. For the honor of her homeland.” Odessa would pick up her pint and down the remainder of its contents.

Emily bristled, not only at the fact that Odessa was pointing out all of the historical facts she was getting wrong, but at the fact that she was now calling into question the bravery of her...well, admittedly, very distant...ancestors! True, the Nelson family had a lot of English blood in its lineage, but that was besides the point! Even then, Emily was willing to let the argument go, and concede this to Odessa. That, however, was before the Englishwoman made that comment about Boudicca.

She leaned a little closer to Odessa in turn, their foreheads almost touching as their eyes locked. "That," Emily growled, "is a MIGHTY tall claim, Miss Brock. There'v been legends of great Scottish warriors queens like Scathach and Aifa long before Boudicca e'er put on a dress. An' even if we ignore them, there are more strong Scottish women throughout history than English-- half of my country knows the tales of Isobel MacDuff and Black Agnes, both of whom fought for the Bruce an' battled the English as well as any man, ne'er mind the Maid Lilliard who fought the English as well two centuries after. Praise Boudicca all ye want, it's Scotland where proper woman warriors come from, not England wi' its overweight and balding queens and swooning maids!"

Between the two of them, Risako blushed as the conversation seemed to be getting out of hand. "Ehh...hey, easy you two! Both your countries are pretty amazing, can't you just agree on that?"

Odessa was getting more spirited as the conversation continued. She was still perfectly happy keeping it as a friendly little debate, but her English pride was not about to allow her to concede anything more to Emily than was due, and neither would the warm, pleasant alcohol that was now running through her. Odessa was nowhere near drunk—far from it, in fact—but she was feeling a very pleasant, inhibitions-deadening buzz. Somehow, another pint had appeared in her hand and been emptied without her even realizing it.

She would lean in closer, never minding how loud her Scottish counterpart was being, and would actually bring their foreheads together, staring challengingly into Emilyâ€s eyes. “Oh, yes, letâ€s count the purely legendary characters. You can count those two only if you give me the White Witch and the goose that laid the golden eggs, darling!” She would chuckle and pick up another chip, poking idly at Emilyâ€s cheek with it for a moment before putting it in her mouth and swallowing it. “Now, while Scotland surely has plenty of fine female warriors, they really couldnâ€t hold a candle to the warrior women of England. I speak of Æthelburg of Wessex, of both Matildas during the Anarchy…and Boudicca, of course, but I have already expressed my fondness for her.”

She would reach up and slide a finger into Emilyâ€s luscious locks, playing with the Scottish womanâ€s hair as she spoke. “And since you brought up the issue of beauty, letâ€s not forget that Lady Godiva was English, hmm? Perhaps she wasnâ€t a warrior, but no Scottish trollop could hope to surpass her when it comes to looks!”

Emily felt herself getting redder and redder as the conversation wore on, feeling the sting of hurt, embittered national pride as Odessa mocked her girlhood heroes. It didn't help that she and Odessa were now forehead to forehead, and that the English girl was now teasingly poking her cheek with a chip.

She brought a hand up and grabbed at Odessa's wrist, gently moving it away from her hair. "If ye want examples o' fairness and beauty, Odessa, ye'd best not be using an exhibitionist slattern like Godiva as an example," she replied. "Besides, if I can't use...historically exaggerated examples, then neither can ye." She smiled a little, and teasingly twirled some of Odessa's own hair in her finger before continuing. "Besides, ye'd be hard pressed to drag up an English queen who could 'ave matched Mary Stuart for good looks. Which, I suppose, was one of th' many reasons why that bald broomstick Elizabeth had her killed off."

Withdrawing her hand, she took another gulp of her pint, now feeling more than a little dizzy as the ale buzzed through her. "Which brings us to our next topic: how the English could n'er beat the Scots in a fair, even fight."

Sitting nearby, Risako simply sighed and buried her head in her hands. This was NOT the night out she had been looking forward to...

“Lady Godivaâ€s legend has a basis in fact, though. Who are we to say how true or how untrue it is?” Odessa would reply, as Emily pulled her hand away from that mane of pink hair. When Emilyâ€s other hand would then try to grab onto Odessaâ€s white locks and twirl them around, Odessa would quickly grab onto Emilyâ€s wrist and push the Scottish womanâ€s hand backwards. “If you wonâ€t let me handle that pretty hair of yours, then Iâ€m afraid I canâ€t allow you to return the favor,” she would warn with a smirk.

Odessa rolled her eyes when Emily once again insulted the attractiveness of English women, but she would not bother to dignify that with a response. What Emily said next was much more intriguing, and raised her hackles much higher. She brought her pint up to her lips and drank some more, the bottom of the glass rubbing against Emilyâ€s chin, so close were their faces right now. “Is that so? You donâ€t think that England can beat Scotland in a fair fight?” she would ask, pressing her face a little closer, almost kissing Emily in their staredown. “I could quote a dozen history textbooks listing battles that prove how wrong you are, but maybe I should just prove it to you myself, darling.”

She smiled and would pull her forehead back from Emilyâ€s. Then she put her arm up on the table, elbow planted on the surface, hand held high. She wiggled her fingers and raised an eyebrow at Emily, offering the Scottish woman a chance to arm wrestle for national pride.

Emily met Odessa's gaze with a fierce one of her own, and the two women were practically nose to nose now, just one slip away from accidentally kissing each other. By this point, a small crowd was gathering in the pub, watching in fascination as this strange national argument broke out. Already, more than a few people were placing bets that this would turn into a catfight.

As Odessa moved back, however, Emily did the same, propping an elbow on the table and clasping Odessa's hand firmly. "And I ken cite a dozen textbooks proving me right," she replied tersely. "As much as ye English like to claim otherwise, England never truly ever conquered Scotland-- we joined the UK of our free will. And for every Culloden Moore we lost, there was a Bannockburn we won." She smiled. "But as ye yourself said, lass, there's a simpler way to solve this argument."

Pressing her elbow down against the table, Emily would never once remove her gaze from Odessa's. "Risako, lass? Start us off."

"Hey, I'm no referee!" Risako protested. Realizing that she was in this mess now, whether she liked it or not, she sighed. "Fine. Ready...set...arm wrestle!"

The crowd, which consisted primarily of several waitresses and the four or five other pub patrons who had been seated in the same section as the wrestlers, seemed to approve of the British womenâ€s decision to settle their little debate with an arm wrestling match. They clapped their hands as Odessa and Emily set their elbows down on the table and clasped each otherâ€s hands firmly.

“Yes, yes, you joined the U.K. of your own free will,” Odessa would repeat. “It isnâ€t as if you lot depend on us economically. Youâ€ve really only been declaring your loyalty to the English crown for the last few centuries for shits and giggles—isnâ€t that right?” She gave Emilyâ€s hand a squeeze, signifying her readiness. She glanced to Risako, who, by virtue of her proximity and her familiarity with Emily, had been quickly conscripted as referee. Odessa couldnâ€t help but feel a little sorry for the Japanese wrestler for having to sit through this argument. But she was the one who had made friends with a woman as stubborn as a mule.

When she started them off, Odessa would begin trying to push Emilyâ€s arm down, immediately putting quite a bit of her strength into it, holding just a small bit in reserve as she tested her Scottish foe.

"Actually, we stayed because ye English would 'ave been absolutely hopeless wi'out us," Emily retorted. "True, we only ever gave ye a few wee things like economics, half of the inventions of the past two centuries, penicillin, whisky, and David Tennant, but ye could 'ave lived wi'out those, right?" She tightened her grip on Odessa's hand firmly as she stared the Englishwoman in the eyes. National pride was on the line now, and she intended to show this snotty Englishwoman a thing or two.

As Risako started them off, Emily pressed her arm against Odessa's, but was surprised by the sudden surge of strength that forced her own arm sideways. Gritting her teeth, she fought back with a surge of her own, hoping to force Odessa back the other way as around them, the crowd began to cheer them on.