by K T Findlay
Thomas stood stock still in front of the pig, and just using his arm, thrust the sword into the carcass. The blade slid in smoothly, burying itself up to the hilt. When he withdrew it, he pushed the edge into the flesh which it sliced like a razor, leaving a gaping wound.
The group erupted into cheering and applause.
‘And that was just your arm!’ cried Rowena. ‘You didn’t even have to swing it, or use your body!’
Thomas just grinned, and handed her the sword. ‘Your turn I think.’
Rowena took a fighter’s stance, and thrust the blade into the rear haunch, using her upper body to deliver a much harder blow than Thomas. The tip of the blade appeared almost instantly on the other side of the leg, and when she withdrew it, she was able to slice the blade clean out through the flesh as if it was being butchered. She looked at it in awe.
‘My turn please.’ said Berthilda. ‘I want to try something.’
She took her stance, and like Rowena, struck hard into the back leg, but aiming for the bone. The carcass jolted and the blade bent under the force of the blow, but crucially it sprang back into shape and didn’t break.
‘Hurrah!’ shouted Smith. ‘That’s a real blade for you!’
‘May I try?’ came a soft male voice from the back.
‘Of course Kelsey.’ smiled Berthilda. ‘We all want to see what you can do with it!’
Kelsey took his own stance, and struck hard and fast into the chest. The blade sliced effortlessly through, and out the other side, breaking a rib as it went. He withdrew it thoughtfully, then swung it in a slash across the belly. It didn’t penetrate anywhere near as far as his own sword would have done, but it went far enough in to inflict a fatal wound on a man. Then he flicked the sword around in his hand, feinting and striking, trying out multiple attacks, and in the end declared himself impressed.
‘In a one on one fight, this would be a dangerous weapon to come across.’ he said. ‘Against a shield wall though, I think it would struggle. And having just a single edge is not so good I think.’
This was the thing that worried them the most. To make the blade as long as possible, Thomas had taken one of the normal two edges away, repurposing the metal to lengthen and stiffen the blade. It was very much like a sword from the nineteenth century, if they had but known it.
Thomas nodded. ‘You’re absolutely right. That’s why the blade is only part of the answer. We need to change the fight itself. The new guard is part of that change.’
He ran his fingers over the curving basket that spread out beneath the quillons.
‘It has the same cross guard quillons that your normal swords have, but the basket will protect the top of your hand from your opponent’s blade, and its curve down to the pommel will protect your fingers.’
Hengist raised his hand. ‘I was going to ask about that Your Highness. Will it not force us to fight with one hand?’
Thomas nodded. ‘Yes it will, but with the buckler in your other hand, you won’t have much choice anyway. Come, pick up a wooden mock sword and I’ll demonstrate.’
Hengist retrieved the training tool and took up position opposite Thomas.
‘Okay, don’t hit me too hard please, but try and get through my guard.’ said Thomas, carefully positioning the little metal shield well out in front of himself.
Hengist moved his weight easily from foot to foot, impressed at just how much of Thomas was obscured when the buckler was held that far out. Then he lunged his blade underneath it towards Thomas’s thigh. The Prince easily deflected it downwards with the Buckler and flicked the back of his own blade lightly against the right hand side of Hengist’s throat.
‘One nil.’ said Thomas quietly.
Somewhat chastened, Hengist took up position again. This time he feinted a slash to the left side of Thomas’s head, intending his real strike to be the following backstroke but he never had the chance. Thomas simply deflected Hengist’s “blade” upward, and came in to rest the tip of his own sword against Hengist’s chest.
‘Two nil. This time try and hit me hard. Go on. You’re allowed to this time!’
Hengist began to circle his prey. He was a good man, but he had his pride like anyone else, and didn’t much like being made to look a fool by a ten year old boy. He launched a sudden attack, the flurry of powerful blows forcing Thomas to retreat, but every slash and thrust was deflected by either the sword or the buckler, allowing the Prince to dodge the “blade”.
Then, as Hengist swung what he thought was going to be a killer vertical strike from his elbow, Thomas stepped forward, caught Hengist’s blade on his own, pushing it out and down, allowing him to swing the edge of the buckler over the top in a haymaker, just brushing Hengist’s face.
Hengist looked at the boy in amazement.
‘The trick for us little ones, and for those not so strong as you, is to use the buckler to deflect your blows, not to block them. If we try and block a hard blow, you’d just break our arm, or worse. But because I can change the position and angle of the buckler so quickly, as long as I see you coming, I can always deflect or punch your blade away no matter what you do. And, if the blow isn’t so strong, I can choose to block if I want to, or I can catch it on my own blade and use the buckler to hit you with. If I’m really smart, I’ll use your own strength against you, so you throw yourself off balance, or open yourself up as your sword goes past where you meant it to.’
‘Why did you fight with it pushed out so far away from your body?’ asked Berthilda. ‘Surely your arm is weak if you hold it like that.’
Thomas turned to face her, and held the buckler close to his chest.
‘Well there are lots of other ways to use it, but this is a nice introductory technique. See when it’s held so close, how little of me it protects? It really doesn’t do that much as a static shield, but,’ he said pushing the buckler out towards her, ‘when it’s out here you can see a lot less of me, and I don’t have to move it far to counter your blade.’
Then he grinned and brought his sword in behind the buckler, elbow back, and the tip of his blade nestling in behind the shield. ‘And if I do this, you have no idea at all what I’m going to do with my sword. I can attack in all sorts of ways and you get no warning until the tip of my blade is well on its way.’
Thomas demonstrated a number of different strikes, all hidden by the buckler, until Berthilda expressed herself convinced.
‘Like I said, there are many other ways in which we can use these two weapons. This is just one of them.’ said Thomas.
‘How will it cope with a spear?’ asked Kelsey.
Thomas nodded. ‘The same way it does with a sword.’
‘And what if your opponent has a shield as well as a spear or a sword?’ continued Kelsey, coming back to his point about the shield wall.
‘Ah.’ said Thomas. 'That does make life more difficult to be sure. Let’s try one on one.’
Kelsey stepped up, taking Hengist’s “blade” and a large lime wood shield. With no warning he rushed at Thomas, trying to push him off balance with the shield, to open up an opportunity for his sword. Thomas saw what he was up to and threw himself to the ground, rolling right, under the shield as it swept over him, and flicking up the blunt side of his own blade into the back of Kelsey’s knee, before bouncing to his feet again.
‘The lightness and size of my weapons allow me a wider range of options than you, and I’m faster.’ he explained to a startled Kelsey. ‘Come, try again.’
Kelsey moved in more carefully this time, positioning his sword behind his shield much as Thomas was doing with his buckler. Time and again Kelsey’s “blade” flicked out at Thomas, but every time it was batted effortlessly away.
Thomas in turn was looking for an opportunity, but Kelsey was an expert, and always made sure that he opened up his shield no further than he needed to in order to make his strikes. If Thomas had been a grown man, he’d have had more options, but in the end he decided to go low again.
He waited
until Kelsey had just recovered himself from a failed strike, then threw his buckler arm up as if to strike towards Kelsey’s face, which Kelsey caught easily on his shield, but opened a small gap below, allowing Thomas to gently strike him on the shin.
‘Hardly a killing blow.’ said Kelsey dismissively.
‘No, but it would slow you down! If I was an adult, I’d have more options. Hengist, why don’t you take over from me.’
A few minutes later, Hengist and Kelsey circled each other warily. The first three points went to Kelsey, largely because Hengist was fighting the same way he’d always fought, as if he had a larger shield. It took him a while, and a lot of encouragement from Thomas before he started to adapt, but once he had, the speed of his weapons allowed him to beat Kelsey every time from then on.
At Kelsey’s insistence, they swapped weapons, and repeated the duel with the same results. A few losses as Kelsey learned the hard way, and from then on the new sword and Buckler won every point.
Both men agreed that the combination had real strengths, but Kelsey returned to what he considered the killer argument against it.
‘The problem is my Lord, that you won’t be fighting one on one. You’ll be fighting ten against ten, and they’ll almost certainly use the shield wall, at least to start with. Their heavier slashing swords will break you down, and you won’t be able to dodge away. Your speed will be useless.’ he said.
‘I completely agree Kelsey, which is why we won’t fight them like that. We’ll have to either take out their shields or force them to split up.’ replied Thomas.
‘And how do you mean to do that?' asked Hengist.
‘Oh there are ways and means!’ laughed Thomas. ‘Let’s learn this first, and I’ll take you through how we’ll deal with the shield wall later on. Okay everyone, time for you all to have a go, but for the love of heaven, be careful if you’re the one with the new sword! If you draw blood with it, you’ll be on bread and water for a week!’
‘Arrrggghhhh!’ hissed a highly frustrated Wulfstan in his ear. ‘I want a go too!!! It’s my body after all, and it’s been simply ages since we swapped!’
✽✽✽
‘Over to you Fulton, please tell their majesties what you told me in Canterbury.’ said Marwig.
He and Fulton had finally caught up with the travelling court, and Marwig had straight away asked for an audience with the King and Queen. Standing there in front of the two most powerful people in the Kingdom, Fulton froze, unable to speak, his eyes fixed at the King’s feet.
‘Come on Fulton, don’t waste their time please, there’s a good chap. You’re not in any trouble. They just need to hear your story.’ coaxed Marwig.
Still the man stood there, rigid in fear.
‘Marwig tells me that you have news of my son Fulton. I would much like to hear it.’ said the Queen softly.
His terror softened a little by her gentleness, Fulton at last managed to find his voice. ‘When Prince Wulfstan arrived in the village, he came across Cuthbert the priest chasing and beating one of the villagers, which he stopped. When he found out it was because the man had lost almost all his goods, and was no longer able to pay his tithe, the Prince grew very angry and sent Cuthbert away to think about what he had done.’
He paused to look up at the Queen, whose smile encouraged him to go on.
‘Then the priest tried to kill his slave, chasing her into the great hall where in her terror to get away, she accidentally knocked the Prince to the ground, but the Prince’s servants saved her. She told the Prince that in her hearing, Cuthbert had threatened to kill the Prince, and that he wanted to kill her to silence her tongue. Cuthbert grew angry and accused her of lies, but the Prince believed her, and insisted on buying her to save her life.’
He glanced at Offa who was looking stern. Fulton swallowed in fear but continued on. ‘So the next day, the Prince gathered the entire village together, including all the slaves, to decide whether Cuthbert should stay or go. Prince Wulfstan spoke his arguments, and allowed the priest to state his, then everyone including the slaves, got to drop a coloured stone in a barrel, dark to go, light to stay. When the Prince counted them, there were many more dark than light, so he ordered Cuthbert to go.’
Offa held up a hand. ‘The Prince counted the stones? On his own?’
‘Yes Your Majesty.’ said Fulton.
Offa turned to Cynethryth. ‘Is this ability to count another piece of magic from that thump on the head, or is there something you’ve not been telling me?’ he asked.
‘It’s news to me too.’ she replied, pursing her lips in thought. ‘Carry on Fulton.’
‘Some of us were upset that the slaves had been allowed the same say as we freemen, and we complained when he came to ask us why we seemed vexed. He offered me the chance to be exchanged with someone in another village if I wanted, and like a fool I said yes. I was then even more foolish and asked for it to happen as soon as possible, and he gave me what he said was a year’s income in coin, so I could leave and start a new life. I went back to my hut, but when I came out again with my possessions, I ran into Cuthbert and his handcart as he was being escorted out of the village. He bade me join him, and even though I had decided to ask the Prince if I might be allowed to stay after all, I was too frightened of the priest’s anger to say so.’
Nobody said a word, so Fulton carried on. ‘Cuthbert said he had a handcart because the Prince forbade him a slave or an animal as Cuthbert would be too cruel to either. So he used me instead. We walked to Canterbury, and along the way I learned how wise the Prince had been in his understanding of men. Cuthbert is an evil, selfish man, hurtful to others, and cunning beyond all measure. When we arrived at Canterbury, he had pushed the cart hardly at all, but then he took off and hid his shoes, told me to go away, and pushed the cart barefooted to the Cathedral. Not knowing what else to do, I followed, hoping to find food-’
‘He abandoned you without even a meal?’ interrupted the Queen.
Fulton nodded. ‘I received nothing Your Majesty. No food, no bed, no coin, nothing.’
She frowned. ‘Hm. Carry on.’
‘When he arrived at the Cathedral, his feet were bleeding badly, and he was hobbling, but when the Archbishop came out, Cuthbert pretended that he had pushed the cart alone all the way from the manor, and had been walking barefoot for days. The Archbishop got very angry, and said he would make the King and Queen force the Prince to take Cuthbert back, and to beg his pardon for so wronging him. Then I was fortunate enough to be recognised by Earl Marwig who brought me to you, and that is my story Your Majesties.’
Offa looked at him thoughtfully. ‘Thank you Fulton. Earl Marwig was correct. We did indeed need to hear your story. My servants will now take you to the kitchens, and give you the meal that Cuthbert should have given you.’
‘Wait!’ said the Queen. ‘What are your plans now Fulton?’
‘I have none Your Majesty. I am seeking a home.’ said Futon, looking very sad indeed.
‘Would you like to return to the manor?’ she asked.
He looked up into her face. ‘More than anything else in the world. I have learnt the folly of my ways, and long to be the Prince’s man, but I fear he would not have me back, or that my hut has been given to another.’
Cynethryth smiled at Marwig.
‘Perhaps you might like to pay a visit to my son Earl Marwig, taking Fulton along with you? I’d like to know how he’s getting on, and Fulton could go with you to find out if the Prince is as forgiving in his nature, as he seems to be wise.’
Marwig nodded. ‘It would be my pleasure Your Majesty.’
‘Then that’s settled.’ said the King. ‘Fulton, go off and get your meal, then rejoin Marwig’s people. Marwig, you stay please. We three have to decide how to respond to this piece of news about our troublesome priest!’
15 A visitation
Wulfstan’s frustration at being locked out of his body, finally ended a week later when Marwig, Fulton and three men at arms
arrived in the village. He was out doing his patrols as normal when the riders were spotted, but it wasn’t until they arrived in the village itself that the event took place.
‘I bring greetings from the King and Queen to their beloved son.’ was all it took from Marwig before Wulfstan was instantly back in the body, and busy in conversation.
Thomas found it a bit of a relief if he was honest with himself. Playing the ventriloquist’s dummy was awfully hard work, and it was much better if Wulfstan could speak for himself. However, this conversation mattered, so he couldn’t just swan off and go for a relaxing flight as he wanted to. He needed to listen to this.
Wulfstan saw his guests settled in the two guest houses, and their horses seen to, before they gathered in the hall for a proper discussion where he heard all about Fulton’s adventures, and Cuthbert’s games.
After the tale was over, Fulton clasped his hands in front of him and fell to his knees. ‘I beg you Your Highness to take me back. I was foolish beyond words when I asked you to let me go. I want nothing more than to return to the village, and to be your man. I have learned your worth and wisdom the hard way, and will never forget it. I will be your loyal servant forevermore.’ he pleaded.
Wulfstan looked thoughtfully down at him.
‘Well?’ asked Thomas.
‘Well what?’ replied Wulfstan.
‘Do you want him back or don’t you? He seems perfectly sincere to me. You might find that degree of loyalty useful.’
Wulfstan nodded. ‘Of course Fulton. We’d love to have you back. Mind you, it would be nice to have the money too!’
Instantly Fulton produced the bag of coins from inside his tunic. ‘It’s all there Your Highness. Every bit of it. Please, take it with my thanks!’
Wulfstan opened the purse, and waited while Thomas counted out the coins for him. Finally, Wulfstan looked up and smiled at the still anxious Fulton.
