Sword of the Crown

5. Playing with Swords

Five

Playing with Swords

Summer 942 MC

The great movement of soil the year before had been successful, and with the planting of the season’s first crops, an even better harvest was expected this year. The new watchtowers had proved useful since their construction, not only to spot enemy raiders before they were too close, but to deter them from future attacks. On three occasions alarms had been sounded, giving the troops time to respond, preventing the raiders from coming any closer. Each time the baron sent out a group of horsemen to hunt them down, even leading one sortie himself.

The Keep became a busy place during this time, for the farmers were now closer, and the village that existed within the outer bailey grew to accommodate the increased trade. Beverly enjoyed walking through the village. It was a comfortable place, where people knew each other, and she soon recognized many of the villagers by name.

It was a particularly hot day, late in the summer when Beverly was walking once more through the streets. She stopped to look at some nice fabric and was discussing it with the shopkeeper when she heard a sound in the distance; a distinctive thud of wood hitting wood. Not quite able to discern what was making it, she left the dressmaker with a promise to return and followed the sound which led her around the corner and away from the shops.

Here, was a group of boys, close to her own age. They were fighting with wooden swords, daring each other to attack, and then swinging wildly. She recognized some of them as the sons of soldiers, while others, she assumed, must be related to the villagers.

Leaning against the wall, trying to look nonchalant, she watched them play fight. One of them would lunge forward, striking overhead with their sword. The other boy would then block the swing and do likewise. She was struck by the simplicity of their movements, having seen her father's soldiers in training. It was the responsibility of the Sergeant-at-Arms to keep the baron’s men in tip-top shape, and she was sure he would be disappointed by these lad's feeble attempts at fighting.

She was trying to recall the drills she had witnessed the soldiers practise when a voice interrupted her thoughts.

“What d’you think you’re looking at?” the tallest boy said.

“Pardon?” she said, shaken from her reverie.

“This fightings for boys, not girls,” the boy said. “Go tend to your sewing.”

As the baron’s daughter, she was not used to being treated so rudely, but she didn’t want to go running off to get help. Something made her want to make a stand, and so she looked back at the boy without moving. “You’re doing it all wrong,” she told him.

The boy walked over to her, with the two others backing him up. “What would a girl know about fighting?” the youth accused.

She stood up defiantly, “Obviously, more than you.”

“What did you say?” the lad's face turned red. “Say it again, I dare you!”

Clenching her first, she felt her anger rising, “I said, you’re doing it all wrong. Your strikes are too easy to block, and your attacks have no strength behind them.” She was quite prepared to get into a fight about this, so sure was she of her ideas. “Let me show you.”

“No girl is going to show ME how to use a sword,” he shouted.

She was sure he was about to hit her, saw him make a fist, but one of the other boys grabbed his arm and whispered something in his ear. The boy looked down as he listened, then looking back up at Beverly, his face paled.

He growled something incomprehensible, and then turned around, “Come on,” he said, “we’ll go find some other place to practise our swordsmanship.”

Beverly felt cheated. She had never practised with a sword, but her encounter with the raiders the year before had made her more concerned. She resolved to start practicing today, immediately in fact. She would show those boys how to use a sword!

Making her way back to the Keep, she entered the practise yard. No one was here today. They were all out on guard duty or patrols, so she retrieved her sword and walked to the centre of the yard. She thought about all the times she had seen Gerald train the soldiers and decided to start with some basic drills. Taking up a stance, her right foot in front by about a foot’s length or so, she swung the sword from her right-hand side in a sweep and tried to step forward with her left foot, but found it awkward. She tried again, this time stepping forward with her right leg, but once again found the action clumsy. Getting frustrated, she tried swinging the sword in a backhanded motion, but the sword came loose in her grasp, clattering to the cobblestones. Embarrassed, she looked around sheepishly, but fortunately for her, no one was about, and so she picked it up and started again. She soon came to the realization that this was going to be more difficult than she had first thought.

Baron Fitzwilliam was in the map room listening to Gerald, who was detailing the Keep's stores. Ever since the northern wars had begun, Bodden had been a prime target. It had already come under siege on three separate occasions, and the baron was determined to always have sufficient food stores to survive an extended siege if need be. The windows were open, letting in the sweet summer breeze and, as he listened, he moved toward the west window, the better to feel the breeze on his face. Gerald was going on about how many bushels of grain they would need to make up the shortfall when they were both startled by a rather loud clanging sound.

Fitz looked out the window and saw below, on the practise grounds, his daughter trying to swing a sword. Gerald joined him at the window.

“It appears we have a budding warrior, my lord,” said Gerald.

“Mmm,” the baron replied, thinking deeply. “I wonder if we might encourage her a bit?”

“Encourage her, my lord? You want your daughter to be a warrior?”

“Why not,” he turned to face Gerald. “I daresay she has the determination.”

“Isn’t that a little dangerous?”

“My dear Sergeant,” the baron said after a brief pause, “I think it’s apparent by now, that if Beverly wants to learn to fight, she’s going to do it with or without us. I'd rather she learn to fight properly.”

Gerald saw the look of resolve on his lord's face, and he knew how this was going to end, but he had to play his part. “And how, my lord, are we to proceed in this manner?” he asked, knowing full well the answer.

“I think it's best,” said the baron, “that you ‘discover’ her training, and offer a few tips, don’t you? She has to think it’s her idea.”

Gerald sighed, “Very well, my lord, I shall see to it at once.”

“Thank you, Gerald,” said Fitz, then added, “Oh, and Gerald?”

“Yes, my lord?”

“Train her properly, real training, not pretend.”

He was about to object but saw the look on the baron’s face. He swallowed his pride, “Yes, my lord.”

And so Gerald Matheson, the Sergeant-at-Arms of Bodden Keep marched down to begin training his newest protege, a seven-year-old girl.

Beverly tried stepping, then swinging, then stopped. Her right arm was getting sore, and she rubbed it. She would never get the hang of this; she would have to watch the soldiers practise tomorrow and learn the basics. Her frustration level was rising at her own inabilities when a voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Every new recruit needs to start with a practise sword,” said Gerald walking toward her. He tossed her a wooden sword which she managed to catch. “Put away the other blade; you’ll learn to handle it when your arm toughens up.”

She leaned the sword against the wall and gripped the practise weapon in her right hand. Gerald guided her out into the centre of the yard and stood beside her. “Now, stand with your feet even with one another, but about shoulder-width apart. When you swing from the right, take a step forward with your right foot.”

“But I’ve been trying that,” she complained.

“No, I’ve been watching you,” he said, remaining calm and professional. “You step and then swing, you need to do both at the same time. Your movement will put more weight into the swing.” To illustrate he carried out the movement himself. “You see? Now you try it.”

It only took a moment for her to get the hang of it, and then he showed her how to do a backhand swing. Soon, she was stepping forward with a forward s***h and then stepping again with a backhand swing. He returned her to the middle of the yard and stood in front of her with another wooden sword. “Now do it again,” he said, and as she swung, he blocked and stepped backwards, then blocked the backhand stroke, stepping back again.

Before long they were going back and forth in the yard. First, she would attack six times, then he would counter-attack, and then it would be her turn to block. She was having a wonderful time, and he recognized the look of determination on her face that he had seen so often on the baron. She would have kept at practise for hours, he had no doubt, but he also knew her arms would be sore tomorrow, for she had to get them used to the effort. He finished up with some stretching exercises, warning her that her arms would hurt later.

“So, recruit,” he said as they were finishing, “are you willing to return tomorrow for more training?”

Beverly looked up at him and smiled, “Yes, please! I mean, yes, Sergeant.”

“Excellent. We’ll meet here again tomorrow at the same time. We can’t really have the new recruits practicing with the regular soldiers, now can we? Take that practise sword with you and go see the swordsmith and get him to adjust the grip on it, you’ve got smaller hands. If he gives you any guff, you tell him the Sergeant-at-Arms sent you.”

Gerald was surprised by Beverly’s determination for she practised every chance she got. If only, he thought, his actual recruits were as disciplined as she was. The summer wore on, and the training continued. Soon, he had her practicing different techniques, lower and higher thrusts and swings. She ate it up like a wolf among sheep. By the time the cooler air of autumn had arrived, she had progressed to a real sword, though only a short one. Gerald found the training not too tiresome, in fact, he hated to admit it, but he had fun. Her enthusiasm was inspiring, and he often found himself showing her tricks that he normally wouldn’t mention to trainees.