The Young Castellan: A Tale of the English Civil War

by George Manville Fenn

  CHAPTER FOUR.

  THE USE OF A SWORD.

  Several days passed away, but Lady Royland always put off sending insearch of news, and seemed to be more cheerful, so that Roy soon forgothis anxiety in the many things he had to think about,--amusements,studies, and the like. But he had a few words with his father's oldfollower on the subject of the absence of news, one day, when Ben wasbusy, as usual, in the armoury.

  "Not heard lately from the master, sir? Pish, that's nothing; soldiershave got their swords and pistols to think about, not their pens. Bestsoldiers I ever knew couldn't write at all. Enough for them to do tofight. You'll hear from him some day, and when you do, you'll know ashe has been pretty busy putting the people straight,--more straight thansome on 'em'll like to be, I know. Sarve 'em right; nobody's a right tofight agen the king.--Looks right, don't it?"

  He held up an old sword which he had rubbed and polished till it flashedin the light.

  "Splendid!" said Roy. "Is it sharp?"

  "Sharp enough to take your head off at one sweep."

  "Nonsense!" said the boy, laughing.

  "Oh, it's true enough, Master Roy. Here, you stand all quite stiff andstraight, and I'll show you."

  "No, thank you, Ben. Suppose I try it on you."

  "There you are, then," said the man; "but I must have one, too, for aguard."

  He handed the boy the sword, and took up another waiting to be cleanedfrom galling rust, and, throwing himself on guard, he cried--

  "Now then, cut!"

  "No; too dangerous," said Roy.

  "Not a bit, my lad, because you couldn't touch me."

  "I could," said Roy, "where I liked."

  "Try, then."

  "Not with this sharp sword."

  "Very well, then, take one of those; they've no more edge than a woodenone. It's time you did know how to use a sword, sir."

  Ben exchanged his glittering blade, too, and once more stood on guard.

  "I won't bother you now about how you ought to stand, sir," he said;"that'll come when I begin to give you some lessons. You go just as youlike, and hit where you can."

  "No, no," said the boy. "I don't want to hurt you, Ben."

  "Won't hurt me, sir; more likely to hurt yourself. But do you knowyou're standing just as badly as you possibly could? and if I was yourenemy, I could take off your head, either of your ears, or your legs, aseasily as look at you."

  Roy laughed, but he did not seem to believe the old soldier's assertion,and, giving his blunt sword a whirl through the air, he cried--

  "Now, then, Ben; which leg shall I cut off?"

  "Which you like, sir."

  Roy made a feint at the right leg, and, quickly changing the directionof his weapon, struck with it softly at the old soldier's left.

  "Tchah!" cried the old man, as blade met blade, his sword, in the mosteffortless way, being edge outward exactly where Roy struck. "Why, doyou know, sir, if I'd been in arnest with you, that you would have beenspitted like a cockchafer on a pin before you got your blade round tocut?"

  "Not I," said the boy, contemptuously.

  "Very well, sir; you'll see. Now, try again, and cut hard. Don't letyour blade stop to get a bit of hay and a drop of water on the way, butgive it me quick."

  "But I don't want to hurt you, Ben."

  "Well, I don't, either; and, what's more, I don't mean to let you."

  "But I shall, I'm sure, if I strike hard."

  "You think so, my lad; but do you know what a good sword is?"

  "A sword."

  "Yes, and a lot more. When a man can use it properly, it's a shield,and a breastplate, helmet, brasses, and everything else. Now, I'll justshow you. Helmet, say. Now, you cut straight down at my head, just asif you were going to cut me in two pieces."

  "Put on one of the old helmets, then."

  "Tchah! I don't want any helmets. You cut."

  "And suppose I hurt you?"

  "S'pose you can't."

  "Well, I don't want to," said Roy; "so look out."

  "Right, sir; chop away."

  Roy raised his sword slowly, and the old soldier dropped the point ofhis and began to laugh.

  "That won't do, my lad; lift your blade as if you were going to bring itdown again, not as if you meant to hang it up for an ornament on a peg."

  "Oh, very well," said Roy. "Now, then, I'm going to cut at you sharp."

  "Oh, are you, sir?" said Ben. "Now, if ever you're a soldier, and meeta man who means to kill you, shall you tell him you're going to cut athim sharply? because, if you do, you'll have his blade through youbefore you've half said it."

  "You are precious fond of your banter," cried Roy, who was a little putout now. "Serve you right if I do hurt you. But this blade won't cut,will it?"

  "Cut through the air if you move it sharp; that's about all, my lad."

  "Then take that," cried the boy.

  _Clang_--_cling_--_clatter_!

  Roy stared, for his sword had come in contact with that of the oldsoldier, and then was twisted out of his grasp and went rattling alongthe floor, Ben going after it to fetch it back.

  "Try again, sir."

  Roy was on his mettle now, and, grasping the hilt more firmly, heessayed to deliver a few blows at his opponent's legs, sides, and arms.But Ben's sword was always there first, and held at such an angle thathis weapon glided off violently, as if from his own strength indelivering the blow; and, try hard as he could, he could not get nearenough to make one touch.

  "Arms and head, my lad; sharp."

  Better satisfied now that he would not hurt his adversary, Roy struckdown at the near shoulder, but his sword glanced away. Then at thehead, the legs, everywhere that seemed to offer for a blow, but alwaysfor his blade to glance off with a harsh grating sound.

  "There, it's of no use; you can't get near me, my lad," said Ben, atlast.

  "Oh, yes, I can. I was afraid of hurting you. I shall hit hard ashard," cried Roy, who felt nettled. "But I don't want to hurt you.Let's have sticks."

  "I'll get sticks directly, sir. You hit me first with the sword."

  "Oh, very well; if you will have it, you shall," cried Roy, and, withoutgiving any warning now, he delivered a horizontal blow at the oldsoldier's side; but it was turned off just as the dozen or so whichfollowed were thrown aside, and then, with a quiet laugh, the old fellowsaid--

  "Now, every time you hit at me, I could have run you through."

  "No, you couldn't," said Roy, sharply.

  "Well, we'll see, sir. Put that down, and use this; or, no, keep yoursword; the hilt will protect your hand in case I come down upon it."

  He took up a stout ash stick and threw himself on guard again, waitingfor Roy's blow, which he turned off, but before the next could descend,the boy's aim was disordered by a sharp dig in the chest from the end ofthe ash stick; and so it was as he went on: before he could strike healways received a prod in the chest, ribs, arms, or shoulders.

  "Oh, I say, Ben," he cried at last; "I didn't know you could use a sticklike that."

  "Suppose not, my lad; but I knew you couldn't use a sword like that.Now, I tell you what: you'd better come to me for an hour every morningbefore breakfast, and I'll begin to make such a man of you as yourfather would like to see when he comes back."

  "Well, I will come, Ben," said the lad; "but my arm does not ache somuch now, and I don't feel quite beaten. Let's have another try."

  "Oh, I'll try all day with you, if you like, sir," said the old soldier;"only, suppose now you stand on guard and let me attack."

  "With swords?" said Roy, blankly.

  "No, no," said Ben, laughing; "I don't want to hurt you. We'll keep tosticks. Better still: I want you to get used to handling a sword, soI'll have the stick and you shall defend yourself with a blade."

  "But that wouldn't be fair to you," cried Roy. "I might hurt you, whileyou couldn't hurt me."

  "Couldn't I?" said the old fellow, drily. "I'm afraid I could, and mo
rethan you could me. Now, then, take that blade."

  He took one from the wall, a handsome-looking sword, upon which thearmourer who made it had bestowed a good deal of ingenious labour,carving the sides, and ornamenting the hilt with a couple of beautifullyfluted representations in steel of the scallop shell, so placed thatthey formed as complete a protection to the hand of the user as thatprovided in the basket-hilted Scottish claymore.

  "Find that too heavy for you, sir?"

  "It is heavy," said Roy; "but one seems to be able to handle it easily."

  "Yes, sir; you'll find that will move lightly. You see it's so wellbalanced by the hilt being made heavy. The blade comes up lightly, and,with a fair chance, I believe I could cut a man in two with it after afew touches on a grindstone."

  "Ugh!" ejaculated Roy; "horrid!"

  "Oh, I don't know, sir. Much more horrid if he cut you in two. It's ofno use to be thin-skinned over fighting in earnest. Man's got to defendhimself. Now, then, let's give you a word or two of advice to beginwith. A good swordsman makes his blade move so sharply that you canhardly see it go through the air. You must make it fly about likelightning. Now then, ready?"

  "Yes; but you won't mind if I hurt you?"

  "Don't you be afraid of doing that, sir. If you hurt me, it'll serve meright for being such a bungler. _En garde_!"

  Roy threw himself into position, and the old soldier attacked him veryslowly, cutting at his neck on either side, then down straight at hishead, next at his arms and legs; and in every case, though in a bunglingway, Roy interposed his blade after the fashion shown by his adversary.

  Then the old fellow drew back and rested the point of his ash stick uponhis toe, while Roy panted a little, and smiled with satisfaction.

  "Come," he said; "I wasn't so bad there."

  "Oh, no, you weren't so bad there, because you showed that you'd gotsome idea of what a sword's for; but when you're ready we'll beginagain. May as well have something to think about till to-morrowmorning. First man you fight with won't stop to ask whether you'reready, you know."

  "I suppose not; but wait a minute."

  "Hour, if you like, sir; but your arms'll soon get hard. Seems a pity,though, that they're not harder now. I often asked the master to let meteach you how to use a sword."

  "Yes, I know; but my mother always objected. She doesn't like swords.I do."

  "Of course you do, sir. It's a lad's nature to like one. Ready?"

  "Yes," cried Roy, standing on his guard; "but look out this time, Ben,because I mean you to have something."

  "That's right, sir; but mind this: I'm not going to let my stick travellike a snail after a cabbage-leaf this time. I'm going to cut as Ishould with a sword, only I'm going to hit as if you were made of glass,so as not to break you. Now!"

  The old soldier's eyes flashed as he threw one foot forward, Roy doingthe same; but it was his newly polished sword that flashed as heprepared to guard the cuts, taking care, or meaning to take care, tohold his blade at such an angle that the stick would glance off. Theencounter ended in a few seconds. _Whizz, whirr, pat, pat, pat_, andthe elastic ash sapling came down smartly upon the boy's arms, legs,sides, shoulders, and finished off with a rap on the head, with theresult that Roy angrily threw the sword jangling upon the floor, andstood rubbing his arms and sides viciously.

  "You said you were going to hit at me as if I were made of glass," criedthe boy.

  "So I did. Don't mean to say those taps hurt you?"

  "Hurt? They sting horribly."

  "Why, those cuts would hardly have killed flies, sir. But why didn'tyou guard?"

  "Guard? I did guard," cried Roy, angrily, as he rubbed away; "but youwere so quick."

  "Oh, I can cut quicker than that, sir. You see I got in before you didevery time. I'd cut, and was on my way to give another before you wereready for the first. Come, they don't tingle now, do they?"

  "Tingle? Yes. Here, I want a stick. I'm not going to leave offwithout showing you how it does hurt."

  "Better leave off now, sir," said the man, grinning.

  "But I don't want to," cried Roy; and picking up the sword which he hadhandled with a feeling of pride, he took the other stick, and, crying"Ready!" attacked in his turn, striking hard and as swiftly as he could,but _crack, crack, crack_, wherever he struck, there was the defensivesapling; and at last, with his arm and shoulder aching, the boy loweredhis point and stood panting, with his brow moist with beads ofperspiration.

  "Well done!" cried Ben. "Now that's something like a first lesson.Why, those last were twice as good as any you gave before."

  "Yes," said Roy, proudly; "I thought I could make you feel. Some ofthose went home."

  "Not one of them, my lad," said Ben, smiling; "you didn't touch meonce."

  "Not once?"

  "No, sir; not once."

  "Is that the truth, Ben?"

  "Every word of it, sir. But never you mind that; you did fine; and ifyou'll come to me every morning, I'll make you so that in three months Ishall have to look out for myself."

  "I don't seem to have done any good at all," said Roy, pettishly.

  "Not done no good, sir? Why, you've done wonders; you've taken all theconceit out of yourself, and learned in one lesson that you don't knowanything whatever about a sword, except that it has a blade and a hiltand a scabbard. And all the time you'd been thinking that all you hadto do was to chop and stab with it as easy as could be, and that therewas nothing more to learn. Now didn't you?"

  "Something like it," said Roy, who was now cooling down; "but, ofcourse, I knew that you had to parry."

  "But you didn't know how to, my lad; and look here, you haven't tried tothrust yet. Here, give me a sharp one now."

  "No, I can't do any more," said Roy, sulkily. "I don't know how."

  "That's a true word, sir; but you're going to try?"

  "No, I'm not," said Roy, whom a sharp sting in one leg from the worstcut made a little vicious again.

  "Come, come, come," said the old soldier, reproachfully. "That aren'tlike my master's son talking; that's like a foolish boy without anythingin his head."

  "Look here, Ben; don't you be insolent."

  "Not I, Master Roy. I wouldn't be to you. Only I speak out because I'mproud of you, my lad, and I want to see you grow up into a man like yourfather. I tried hard not to hurt you, sir, but I suppose I did. But Ican't say I'm sorry."

  "Then you ought to be, for you cut at me like a brute."

  The old soldier shook his head sadly.

  "You don't mean that, Master Roy," he said; "and it's only becauseyou're tingling a bit; that's all."

  The man's words disarmed Roy, and the angry frown passed away, as hesaid, frankly--

  "No, I don't mean it now, Ben. The places don't tingle so; but I say,there'll be black marks wherever you cut at me."

  "Never mind, sir; they'll soon come white again, and you'll know nexttime that you've got to have your weapon ready to save yourself. Well,I dunno. I meant it right, but you've had enough of it. Some day SirGranby'll let you go to a big fencing-master as never faced a bit o'steel drawn in anger in his life, and he'll put you on leather pads andthings, and tap you soft like, and show you how to bow, s'loot, and cutcapers like a Frenchman, and when he's done with you I could cut you upinto mincemeat without you being able to give me a scratch."

  "Get out!" cried Roy. "You don't think anything of the sort. What timeshall I come to-morrow morning--six?"

  "No, sir, no. Bed's very nice at six o'clock in the morning. You stopthere, and then you won't be hurt."

  "Five, then?" said Roy, sharply.

  "Nay, sir; you wait for the big fencing-master."

  "Five o'clock, I said," cried Roy.

  The old soldier took the sword Roy had held, and fetching a piece ofleather from a drawer began to polish off the finger-marks left upon thesteel.

  "I said five o'clock, Ben," cried the boy, very decisively.

  "Nay, Master
Roy, you give it up, sir. I'm too rough an old chap foryou."

  "Sorry I was so disagreeable, Ben," said the boy, offering his hand.

  "Mean it, sir?"

  "Why, of course, Ben."

  The hand was eagerly seized, and, it being understood that the swordpractice was to begin punctually at six next morning, they separated.