by Peter Kenson
“Father!” Teresa exclaimed, breaking free from her mother’s embrace. “How could you. Of course Seb is going to beat this Don Rodriguez. Aren’t you, my darling?”
“Well,” Seb said dubiously. “I haven’t actually seen him fight so…”
“I have,” Sergio interrupted. “I know how he fights and I can train you to defeat him. Let me see your sword, Seb.”
Seb drew the blade and handed it over. Sergio held it up and examined it closely.
“You’ve looked after it well,” he said with approval. “But I can smell blood on it.”
“It has seen some action,” Seb admitted. “But I always clean it thoroughly straight afterwards.”
“It wasn’t a criticism, Seb. You can clean a sword as much as you like but you can never completely remove the stink of blood. I can see you’ve cared for this blade but to defeat Don Rodriguez, you’re going to need something better.”
“Better! What could be better than one of your swords?”
“Why two of them, of course. Come to my shop in the morning and I will teach you a style of sword fighting that Don Rodriguez will not expect and will find very difficult to counter. And if your fiancée and her charming companion, would care to accompany you, I should be honoured beyond measure.”
Isabella had taken the baby from Semi and was standing on the terrace listening to the conversation. She smiled at Sergio’s invitation and dropped a curtsey in his direction.
“Excellent. I just hope I shall not be too dazzled by their beauty to be able to teach you the techniques that you will need.”
“Don’t listen to him, Isabella,” Teresa called out. “He’s a silver-tongued flatterer and not to be trusted.”
The general laughter at the mortified expression on Sergio’s face, lifted the mood of the family as they went into the house.
***
The next morning, Seb arrived at the weapon master’s shop just as it was opening. Inside Sergio greeted him warmly but his face fell as he saw that he was on his own.
“I had hoped that the young ladies might be with you.”
“At this hour?” Seb laughed. “But don’t worry. They have both promised that they will be along later and Angelo has hired two additional servants to accompany them whenever they go out.”
Sergio’s face cleared. “Good. Then I will arrange some refreshments for when they arrive. Now let me see that sword again.”
He took the sword and laid it on one of the benches. Then he stood for a minute and looked Seb up and down with a critical eye.
“You have grown since the last time you were here; a full hand taller I would say. You have filled out as well and your right shoulder has more muscular development than the left. A typical swordsman’s build. Tell me, do you normally fight with a shield?”
“Well, yes.”
“Good. So your left arm is used to carrying weight but not to moving it around in the way that your right arm moves a sword.”
“No, I suppose not.”
“Take your sword back but in your left hand, and hold it out level at shoulder height. Now keep it there while I go to find something I put away for you.”
Sergio disappeared into the gloom at the back of the shop leaving Seb standing there. Minutes passed and his shoulder began to ache. The pain increased and his arm started to tremble as he concentrated on keeping it level. By the time the swordsmith returned, sweat was breaking out on Seb’s forehead and the sword point was noticeably wobbling as he fought to keep control.
“Hm, very good,” Sergio commented. “I didn’t expect to see that still up there. You can lower it now.”
Seb let out a sigh of relief as he brought his arm down. He looked at the swordsmith who was placing a long bundle wrapped in a soft cloth on one of the benches. Sergio grinned at him.
“I’ve got some liniment we can work into that shoulder in a minute. You need to develop the muscles in your left shoulder and we don’t have long to do it. Now come and look at this. I made it for you shortly after you left last time.”
Seb put the old sword down and carefully unwrapped the bundle. Inside was a gleaming new sword, longer than his old one and heavier but with the same beautiful balance.
“It’s magnificent,” he said. “But how did you know?”
“The sword your uncle commissioned for you, which you’ve been using until now, was only ever going to be temporary. It is three quarter length; suitable for a strong youth but not for a full grown man. I thought, or at least hoped, that you’d be back someday, so I made this for you and put it aside. Now what you’re going to have to learn to do, is fight with the two of them together.”
“Fight with no shield? My uncle showed me that a few times and we practiced it together, but I’ve never used it in combat.”
“Well you will now. It’s a style of fighting that was developed a long way from here, at the sword school on Nasaki. It’s very effective but virtually unknown outside of that region.”
“Nasaki. I know someone who trained there. He showed me a series of exercises designed to bring mind and body into harmony at the start of every day.”
“Hm. I should like to meet this swordsman one day. I was about to show you the exact same programme of exercises but, if you already know them…”
“I’m not very good at them,” Seb admitted. “Certainly not as good as Lord David but I do try to practice them when I can.”
“Well from now on, you will practice them several times a day, while I am resting in between our combat bouts. So let’s go through to the training yard and make a start.”
By the time the girls arrived at midday, both men were dripping in sweat. Sergio had made Seb practice the exercises three times during the morning and they had fought two practice bouts. For one of them, Sergio had used two swords himself to show Seb how best to use the two blades together. For the other, he had fought with sword and shield in the style that Don Rodriguez would adopt. Both bouts had ended with Seb dumped unceremoniously on his backside. They had only been using practice swords but Seb was covered in bruises and felt as though every muscle in his body was throbbing with pain.
Sergio seated Teresa and Isabella in a shady corner and ordered the servants to set up the table for lunch. Then he led Seb over to a water butt in the far corner of the yard to clean themselves up. Both men stripped to the waist to wash off the worst of the sweat, which drew some admiring glances from the ladies.
Over lunch, they skipped lightly across a variety of general topics but the conversation kept returning to the coming fight and Sergio was forced to describe some of the different exercises that he and Seb were practicing. The girls were full of questions but as he was describing one particular series of moves, a chance comment from Isabella caused him to pause in some surprise.
“Your knowledge of this style of fighting is good, Isabella. You have seen it somewhere before, I think. I did not know it had spread so far.”
Isabella bit her lip in annoyance at her careless comment. “There was an expert swordsman in… the place where I used to live. I believe he has travelled quite widely and must have picked up some of these techniques on his travels.”
“I see,” Sergio said thoughtfully, catching the quick glance which she threw nervously in Seb’s direction. “Well, that explains it then. I congratulate you on your knowledge of the subject.”
The small sigh of relief as he changed the subject, did not escape his eye either.
“Now ladies, while it is agony for me to do so, I must ask you to leave us. Our young fighter here, has to rest for an hour and then we will resume his training.
“Before you go, Teresa, may I ask you to do me a favour?”
“Of course.”
He produced a slip of paper from his tunic. “I have prepared a list of foods which would benefit Seb over the next few days. Might I ask you to convey this to your mother?”
Teresa quickly scanned the list. “There a
re a few things here that we may not have in the house, but I know where we can buy them. Isabella and I will shop for them on our way home.”
The afternoon passed slowly for Seb in an agony of aching muscles and bruises. He had bruises on top of bruises now but in their final bout of the day, he fought Sergio to a standstill without ending up flat on his back. He accepted Sergio’s congratulations before making a grab for the liniment.
Sergio had arranged a carriage to take them back to Angelo’s house and only offered minimal resistance when pressed to stay for the evening meal. The conversation flowed easily through the evening but he noticed that the family were careful to avoid any reference to Isabella’s time before she arrived in Puerto Reis.
“I believe I may have found you a house, my dear,” Angelo said at the end of the meal. “We can go to inspect it tomorrow and, if you think it suitable, we can begin to arrange your household.”
“It seems that everywhere I go, I am being asked to leave,” Isabella smiled. “I might start to get the wrong impression of the hospitality in this city.”
The outburst of horror from all around the table, only served to broaden her smile into a gentle laugh. “Thank you, Angelo. I shall be pleased to look at this house and I’m sure if you recommend it, that it will suit me very well.”
“Under normal circumstances,” Sergio said, “I would offer to accompany Angelo and yourself tomorrow but I’m afraid my time is otherwise occupied for the next two weeks.”
“Quite right too,” Angelo said. “I’m relying on young Seb to save my livelihood in this city. You can just put all thoughts of beautiful ladies out of your mind and concentrate on training my future son-in-law.”
“And if I fail?” Seb asked quietly. “What if I don’t win this combat?”
“You will not lose…” Sergio began but stopped when Angelo waved a hand at him.
“Seb, we are in this situation because you defended my daughter’s honour. This is the second time you have defended her against Cortes’ loutish son. There would never be peace between his family and mine, so I am content with the Count’s ruling. But I will tell you this. If it happens that we have to leave this city and start up somewhere else, you will not have failed me and you will not have failed my daughter. Teresa loves you and I know that you love her. Maria and I will be very proud to welcome you into our family as a son, wherever we are living.”
A tear leaked from Seb’s eye as he stood up. “Thank you,” he said simply. “I will not let you down. But for now, I must ask you to excuse me. I am somewhat fatigued and I fear I have another day of agony ahead of me tomorrow.”
***
The day of the fight dawned bright and clear. Being exactly two weeks on, it was market day again and the crowds were already thronging the square. News of the contest and the stakes that rested on the result, had spread like wildfire through the city and the surrounding countryside and people had come from far and wide to catch a glimpse of the spectacle.
Seb had been excused training on this final morning and was relaxing in the courtyard with Teresa when Sergio arrived with the carriage. Together they unloaded several bundles from the coach and spread them out on the ground. First and foremost were the two swords. Sergio had kept them overnight to polish and hone them, and they gleamed menacingly in the morning sun.
The second bundle was a leather undershirt made of softest doeskin and designed to be worn under a mail shirt. The third and final bundle was the hauberk, the chainmail shirt itself. Sergio said that Don Rodriguez would probably be wearing a full length hauberk that reached down to his knees but Seb had opted for a shorter version that stopped just below his hips. It was lighter and would allow him to move faster while still providing protection to the most vital organs.
Seb stripped off and tried everything on, slotting the two swords into a specially constructed harness that held them in place behind his shoulders. Then for the benefit of Teresa and Isabella who had joined them by that time, he went through the full exercise routine. When he finished, Sergio nodded approvingly.
“You’re ready.”
Teresa had to help Seb pull the mail shirt back over his head and they carefully repacked it back into the coach along with the swords. The leather undershirt he kept on. The contest was scheduled to start at midday so Teresa went to find her parents while Isabella handed the baby back to Semi.
“Have you named the baby yet?” Sergio asked her.
“I have. He is to be known as Vido,” she replied.
“Vido. It’s an unusual name but I like it.”
“I named him after someone who has been very kind to me. Lord David.”
“Lord David? That’s the second time I’ve heard that name recently.”
A look of fear flashed into her eyes as Sergio hurried to reassure her.
“I’m sorry, Isabella,” he said taking her hand. “I did not mean to alarm you. Please accept my apology. I would never do anything to harm you.”
“I believe you, Sergio,” she said, dexterously retrieving her hand. “It’s just that…”
“There are things in your past that you would prefer I did not know for the present. I understand. I promise I will not press you or make enquiries behind your back. When you are ready to tell me, I will be here.”
Isabella smiled at him gratefully as the others arrived together at the coach.
Although it was no great distance to the palace, they made slow progress through the crowds and the midday bell was already sounding as they crossed the river and rode up through the terraced gardens. They had to leave the coach outside the main entrance and made their way through the archway into the outer courtyard.
The space had been transformed into an arena for the fight. There was a dais for Count Leonid and his family with twin grandstands on either side for the leading families of the city. Opposite the grandstands, areas had been roped off and these were already filled to bursting with a noisy crowd of citizenry. The overflow was rapidly filling the walkways at the top of both the inner and outer walls, with people leaning over at great risk to both themselves and the crowds below them.
At either end of the courtyard, pavilions had been erected for the combatants to prepare themselves. They had noticed that Cortes’ coach was already there when they arrived and the right-hand pavilion was now decorated with his family’s coat of arms and beneath that, the personal shield of Don Rodriguez. Seb and Sergio made their way towards the other pavilion as Angelo escorted the ladies to their reserved seats in the stands.
A cheer went up as the servants hoisted Angelo’s coat of arms on the post outside the tent. But when, moments later, they hoisted the personal shield of Sergio Ramirez immediately below it, there was wild applause and the whole arena was buzzing with noisy conversation.
Inside the pavilion, Seb donned the chainmail and prepared himself again. He quickly ran through the exercise routine to settle his mind and then sat down to wait for the call. A blast of trumpets announced the arrival of Count Leonid just as Angelo entered the tent.
“Ready?” he asked.
He received an answering nod from both Seb and Sergio and turned to lead the way outside. Seb followed a pace behind with Sergio bringing up the rear. The noise in the crowd increased as they saw Seb emerge with no shield and twin swords strapped to his back.
At the other end of the arena, Antonio Cortes led the way from his pavilion with Oscar and Don Rodriguez behind him. Seb was gratified to see that Oscar was still limping badly and leaning heavily on a stick.
Both parties met in the centre of the arena and turned to bow to the Count. There was another blast from the trumpets and the crowd fell largely silent as the seneschal stepped forward.
“I am asked by the Count to enquire once more, whether this dispute can be resolved amicably.”
Both Angelo and Cortes spoke up to say that it could not.
“Then the dispute will be settled by combat with the loser relinqui
shing claim to all properties, goods and chattels within the city walls or on vessels at the quayside. Title to all such properties will pass to the victor and the loser will depart this city forever. Combat will cease when one party surrenders or cannot continue. Do you both agree to these terms?”
“I do,” Angelo replied.
“No,” Cortes said angrily. “I do not agree. The doctors tell me that my son will never walk again without a cane. The extent of his injury and the affront to my family is such that I demand the combat continue to the death.”
“I protest, my lord,” Angelo called out. “The injuries suffered by Oscar Cortes were entirely of his own making and he has only himself to blame for them. I do not require the death of Don Rodriguez to satisfy my family’s honour.”
“It’s not Don Rodriguez who’s going to die, you idiot,” Oscar shouted. “It’s Scarface’s lover who will die.”
Antonio Cortes turned quickly to try to hush his son but it was too late. Count Leonid rose to his feet in a fury, shouting for his guards above the roar of the crowd.
“Take him away,” he ordered. “Put him in one of the dungeons and gag him. I have never witnessed such a disgraceful outburst. And you, Master Antonio, be very careful what you say next. Your son has just forfeited what little sympathy I had for his condition. This will not be a combat to the death. You will instruct your champion accordingly, as will you, Master Angelo. Now go and make ready.”
As they walked back to the pavilion, Sergio moved up to walk alongside Seb and talk quietly to him.
“Don’t let them rile you, Seb. You have to fight with your head today, not your heart. Don Rodriguez has no emotional involvement in this fight. He is as cold as ice and he will be trying to kill you. It doesn’t matter what the Count says, he will try to kill you and then claim it was an accident.”
Angelo had been steadily turning paler as Sergio was talking. Once they were safely out of sight in the tent, he turned to Seb.
“It’s not too late, Seb. I can go to the Count and withdraw. I would rather give up all my property here than have Teresa see you killed.”
