The Sword of the Lady c-3

by S. M. Stirling

  Edain had just lowered his bow after a ripple fire that left the pop-up targets shaped like outlaws and Eaters neatly feathered. ?And how?s Aylward the Archer?? Rudi asked. ?Doin? well enough, Chief. Just showing these lads and lasses how it?s done, so to speak, and keepin? me hand in.?

  That got him a chorus of groans and hoots from the locals; he grinned at them and replied with a mocking gesture. It had taken only a day or so before he couldn?t find anyone willing to take a friendly bet on a session at the butts. Jake sunna Jake and his Southsiders leaned on their bows and basked in the young Mackenzie?s reflected glory. Those bows had been substantially improved; Edain had run joyously amok spending Iowa?s gold in Readstown?s well-equipped archery shop, and had ordered a set of portable bowyer?s tools as well to take with them. They should all be ready before the party left.

  The former wild-men had also become noticeably better archers with Edain to instruct and bullyrag them; already they were as good as the average run of the Readstowners.

  Rudi took a deep breath of the chilly late-October air laden with the damp smell of fallen leaves and turned earth; it smoked when he exhaled. Then he passed on to the practice circles where the trainees worked with the sword; they were sensibly marked out on sections of irregular pasture, complete with low brush in some or set around trees or big rocks. In his experience, battles rarely took place on neatly level ground raked and rolled for good footing. The Readstown arms master-they called him a Drill Instructor here-gave him a slight wink. They?d already met.

  He was a thickset man about ten years older than Rudi and three inches shorter, with hair of dark yellow closer-cropped than most locals and the tip of his nose missing. His father had been a retired Marine noncommis sioned man, like Rudi?s sire, Mike Havel, and had run a martial arts club and store in Racine before the Change came and set him on a road that ended here. His son had fought in some of the same wars as Ingolf, but returned home to inherit his father?s employment and pass on what he?d learned. A scar from the slash that had marred his nose also split a lip and drew a corner of his mouth up into a constant sneer, turning a face not notably lovely to begin with into something most men would blink to see. ?Hello, Mr. Mackenzie,? he said.

  Then he indicated three big young men in practice gear. That meant mail shirts to the thigh here, and helmets like brimmed hats, with round shields and wooden drill shetes. ?Care to give some of our local boys a bout?? he said, elaborately casual.?I see you?re kitted up.?

  The Mackenzie was wearing his brigandine, plus mail sleeves, mail-clad leather gorget, plate vambraces and greaves, visored sallet helm and breeches beneath his kilt with mail on the outsides. It was all more elaborate than anything Readstowners were likely to have seen before and enough to let him fight like a knight afoot or ahorse, though it gave a bit less protection than a modern suit of articulated plate and weighed slightly more. The gear did have the advantage of being modular, and you could put it on yourself. ?It would be less than a guest?s duty should I refuse,? Rudi said gravely.?That being the work of the season.?

  October wasn?t exactly the easy time of year here. There wasn?t such a thing, amid the thronging tasks of a farming settlement that also made most of what it used and wore. But it was as close as any, with the grain and root crops in, the last hay and silage cut, and stock culling over and the meat steeping in the vats of pickle brine or turning in the smokehouses or freezing amid underground blocks of ice. What was left was the sort of thing that could be attended to anytime, mostly even in the hard dark cold of winter.

  That gave time for the arts of war; like any manual skill, they rusted if not used. Their main rival in the fall was hunting. Which also trained you in fighting, and doubly if the quarry were boar or bear or wolf. ?Just a moment, then,? he went on, and hung up his sword belt.

  He?d had a training sword made up in precisely the length and balance of his longsword, an oak batten around a rod of old rebar, the wood thickly wrapped in wool rags. Now he tossed it up spinning, caught the hilt with a slap of leather on hard callus, and slid the big kite-shaped Association-style shield onto his arm. ?Which one of us first?? the brashest of the young men said. ?All of you at once, I think,? Rudi said pleasantly.

  He snapped down the visor, and the world shrank to the narrow horizontal bar of the vision slit; by reflex his head began to turn slightly right and left, to make up for the way it cut his peripheral vision. The Readstown youths suddenly looked a little thoughtful as his smiling face disappeared, and left them confronting only the smooth curve of the steel. The visor tapered slightly on the bottom edge in a way that suggested a beak, and its surface and the helm as well were scored and inlaid with niello to hint at raven feathers. A real spray of those black pinions stood up at either temple. Rudi went on: ?Why waste time when we can all fight at once? Ready??

  They spread out uncertainly, looking at each other. Another breath, and he attacked. His face suddenly twisted and the racking Mackenzie shriek burst from him stunning-loud. A crack of shields on shield, the hard clack as one blade met another, a dull thud of a blunt wooden point on mail over padded leather and hard stomach muscle, and Bonnngk!

  The oaken practice sword glanced off a Readstowner?s kettle helmet, twisting it half around to break the chin strap and dropping him like a steer hit between the eyes with a sledge. Rudi stepped back and sloped the steel-cored oak lath over his shoulder.

  One opponent was down, curled up like a shrimp and giving faint hoarse gasping whoops as he tried to draw breath through a diaphram half paralyzed by a thrust to the pit of the belly; another rolled about with his hands to a head still ringing from the blow that had set his helmet flying with a sound like some dull unmusical bell, and the third was white-faced and shaking from the hard rake across his leg just below his crotch, and from the thought of what it would have meant with live steel-which thought hit more like a message, flashed from gut and balls. ?You fellows are far from bad,? Rudi said.

  His breath was deep but not panting. The world came back in its autumnal bleakness as he flicked the visor back up. ?But you?re being too much the gentlemen there. If you?re fighting a man three on one, just surround him and flail away, get in more strikes than he can block; even the Sedanta couldn?t fight two, as the saying goes. Don?t give him a chance to deal with you one at a time.? ?Listen to the voice of experience, you lambs still sucking at mommy?s tit,? said the Readstown arms master.

  The three youngsters were all big rangy young men, but a few years shy of twenty. Even in their discomfort they managed to look sheepishly embarrassed. Their fathers were Farmers hereabout, which gave them more time to practice than common folk, and they were well equipped and supposedly well trained. In Rudi?s judgment they were on the better side of middling, as far as formal drill was concerned. Certainly they were strong, quick and fearless. ?He doesn?t use our moves,? one of them complained, when he could stand and speak.?And he?s a southpaw.?

  The arms master?s smile was a wonder to see as he crossed his arms on his chest and stared at them; it reminded Rudi of one Sam Aylward had put on when he was fifteen and had done something truly stupid on Dun Juniper?s practice field. The kind that made you feel as if you were six and playing at warriors out behind the stable with a rotten stick for a sword and an old fence board for a shield, rather than training for the real thing. When the older man spoke his voice was like a flaying knife: ?Yah hey, if someone attacks you using different moves, or if they?re a leftie, you?re just going to say you?re taking your bat and ball and going home?cause it ain?t fair? Christ, Weiss, I?ve known you were a dumb little punk for years, but do you have to show it off in front of strangers??

  Rudi laughed, in friendly wise.?If you travel, you do meet different ways of fighting, the which can be an unpleasant surprise. Surprises can kill you in this trade, for there?s no time to think things out when men fight to kill. I had the advantage of you, for I?ve trained with Ingolf Vogeler for some time now and know the Readstown style. Here, let me show you what happened. Half speed.? />
  He ran them through the moves of the fight.?See, when I sidestepped I put you out of line with your shield, and in the way of your friend here so he couldn?t strike while I took you out with a lunging thrust, then rammed him off-balance shield-to-shield on the next step.?

  The DI nodded.?I keep telling you, Weiss, you can use the shield to hit with, not just block. So can the guy you?re fighting.? ?Then I backhanded this other fine fellow across the head, turned on my heel, and lunged while your friend there was off-balance, which left me with nothing to do but block your other friend with the black hair so -?

  He mimed letting a shete-cut slide off the blade of his longsword. ?-which in turn left me in position for a quick stab to the inside of the thigh, below the armor and cup. It?s a low blow that?s often the most effective. A man who blocks strikes to his face and chest well can often be taken with a blow to the thighs or knees or shins-or even a thrust through his foot pinning it to the ground, after which he?ll be sadly lacking in nimbleness and no good at a dance at all.? ?Christ, you were fast,? one of the young men said reverently.?I didn?t think a guy your height could move like that. That?s why I tried to come in under your guard.? ?Well, to be sure, I am very quick,? Rudi said.

  Modesty was a vice he left to Christians and there was also no point in denying what they?d seen with their own eyes; and while some of it was just the cradle gifts of the fey, more was honestly earned by long hard effort. ?And being both tall and fast is a fine thing. But also, there?s the matter of the weapons. Your Eastern shete hits hard, I will not dispute, but it recovers slowly even when held by a strong wrist. Good enough for a melee, where you seldom strike for the same man twice and few men see the blow that kills them, but not for the higher art. Here there?s just the four of us, and no interruptions or distractions, of which a battle has more than its share.?

  The Readstown instructor held out his hand.?Can I see that? What do you call it?? ?A longsword. To be technical, it?s a hand-and-a-half, or a bastard longsword. Thirty-six inches in the blade, and the hilt long enough for either a single or two-hand grip. Here, try the steel, it?ll give you a better idea than wood.?

  He picked up his sheathed sword where it rested with the belt wrapped around the scabbard and tossed it over. The Readstowner drew the great cross-hilted blade. His eyes picked out the spots where nicks had been ground out of the layer-forged steel, and he grunted approval of the state of the edge-knife sharp, but not a vulnerable hair-thin razor edge that would turn on bone, and all the metal covered with a barely perceptible film of neatsfoot oil. He tried it in a few broad sweeping cuts of the type the local blade-style used, feet rustling in the yellow-brown barley stubble, then held the weapon and turned it slowly in a circle from the wrist, and then flicked it back and forth. ?Nice piece of smith work here, you betcha. It?s no lighter than a cavalry shete,? he said.?But the balance is a lot further back. Just forward of the guard.? He tried a thrust.?Bet you could put this right through a mail shirt.? ?Yes, with a solid hit. And enough weight behind it and just a wee bit of luck. The blade tapers to a narrow point, as you see, and the tip of it will get inside the first link. Then the edges cut the rings from the inside. Even good riveted mail is much better protection against cuts than thrusts of that sort.? ?Like a thin-tipped spear?? ?Precisely, though you won?t run a man in a mail hauberk all the way through… but inches are enough in the right place, eh?? ?Yah hey, fighting or fucking,? the man said, to a general laugh.

  Then he tossed it up a little, resheathed it and went on shrewdly: ?Bet this thing takes longer to learn well than a shete. Bet you?ve been at it a while; I?d say you?re a Changeling. All the way, too, not just mostly like me.? ?Probably, though a wise man never stops learning his tools,? Rudi acknowledged with respect to the first part of the statement.?And yes, I?ve been at it since I could walk, more or less, and I was born in the first Change Year. War?s my trade, though I?ve put my hand to other things in plenty.? ?Like to fight, do you?? ?No, that I do not,? Rudi replied.?I like the art of the thing, and the mastering of the skill, and the testing of the self. A bladesman?s skill can be as beautiful as any other. Fighting… that you do because it?s needful.? ?You?ve won a lot of fights,? one of the youngsters said brashly, despite a glare from his instructor when he pushed into the conversation.?What?s it like? We?ve had some brushes with outlaws lately but they just run off if they can?t bushwhack you.?

  Rudi twitched the wooden sword down until its point rested in the dirt and leaned on the hilt.?You?ve slaughtered beasts, I suppose?? he said calmly.

  The teenager nodded; it would be rare for anyone not to have that experience. Anyone except a wealthy dweller in a large city, and such were very rare in the world as it was now. Even a child could help hold the bowl of oatmeal to catch the blood for sausages and black pudding when a carcass was hoisted up to drain. ?Much like that; like butchering a pig, shall we say, they being clever enough to know what you?re about, and to fear their death before it comes. Except that you can generally kill a beast cleanly with one blow, since it?s not trying to stop you with a weapon of its own, the which is unfortunately rare in a fight. In battle you must often disable before you can put an end to the man; which means you can see the knowledge in their eyes as the last blow falls. Or you must cripple a man and go on to the next, there being no time for mercy.?

  The instructor nodded vigorously. Rudi continued: ?And animals rarely try to hold the wounds closed, or weep, or scream and call for their mothers because the pain is so bad.? ?Oh,? the young man said; he and his friends winced. ?And that,? the DI said ruthlessly,?would have been you three this time.?

  He pointed to each of them in turn.?Weiss, you?d be bleeding out right now, fast,?cause that one he gave you would?ve opened up the big artery inside the crotch. Cartman, you?d be lying flat on your face with blood coming out of your nose and ears waiting for someone to cut your throat. And Andersen, you?d have a four-inch stab wound in your gut and after the fever set in you?d be begging for someone to finish you. So let?s practice some more, hey? Get set, two on one!?

  He turned back to Rudi and spoke more quietly as the young men moved off in obedience to his orders: ?They?ll do OK, if I can just keep them alive while they get some of the piss and vinegar whacked out of?em.?

  Rudi smiled; he liked this man, even on brief acquaintance. ?Still, better to have to restrain a noble stallion than prod a reluctant mule.? ?Yah, God knows that?s true. The timid ones take even more work. These, they?re good kids. It?s just…? A pause.?Trouble?s coming, isn?t it?? ?It is that. Trouble that follows me and my friends-but even so is just the first wave of a storm of troubles to come.? ?Well, shit. I?d better get back to work, then.?

  Something touched the back of Rudi?s hand. It was a snowflake; more fell, and then the wind began to flick them into his face. The young Readstowners stepped back and began to sling their gear.

  The instructor gave a smile that would have done credit to a tiger confronted with a crippled cow. ?War isn?t going to be called on account of snow!? he barked. ?Where do you think you?re going??

  Rudi walked over to where his half sisters and Virginia Kane and Fred Thurston had been showing off a little with mounted archery, which was an upper-class style here. Ingolf was leaning against a maple and watching with his arms crossed. ?Standards have gone up since I left,? he said.?This bunch are a lot better than I was when I went for a soldier.? ?The which is a fortunate thing,? Rudi said.

  The snowflakes grew larger, and began to stick on his eyebrows. ?What would you say of it?? he asked; Ingolf would be a better judge of weather here. ?Going on to snow hard,? he said.?It?s early. That means we ought to be able to get going in a week or so.?

  Rudi nodded.?If I were more eager, ants would crawl out of my nostrils. They?re crawling around under my skin, as it is. But again, we?ve not wasted the time here. I think your brother has come around to our way of thinking about the Cutters.?

  Ingolf nodded.?Yah. He connected the dots and didn?t like the picture. He?s going to be sounding out the
other Sheriffs and the bigger Farmers about it over the winter too, you betcha.? ?So we?ve accomplished that here.? Rudi sighed.?Much as a mad dash would have eased my heart. Do you know the worst of adventuring, my friend??

  Ingolf snorted.?Your Majesty, I could go on all day about that.?

  Rudi shrugged.?It?s not so much the hardship or danger. It?s the monotony. Everyone back home probably thinks it?s such a wild and carefree life… but it?s hard work, and mostly at the same thing. You travel, you fight, you try not to starve, travel some more, fight some more… even a pleasant place like this isn?t home, and it isn?t yours.?

  Ingolf chuckled.?Well, you get to see a lot of the country. Granted you do a lot of it bleeding or running or hiding. And sometimes you meet a great girl and she falls for you.?

  His gaze turned fond as he looked over at Mary; she was putting the cap on her quiver, and paused to blow him a kiss.

  The Readstowner went on:?And Mary and I are going to get hitched before we go.?

  Rudi grinned at that, and put out his hand. They shook, and a grin came over Ingolf?s battered face as well. It made him look a good decade younger. ?We?re already brothers in battle and camp,? Rudi said.?It?ll be good to have you formally in the family, so to speak.? ?It?s not… well, it?s just a ceremony, but… you know.?

  The rest of the questers came up while they were talking, and Ingolf endured more handshaking and slaps on the back. ?Mary doesn?t mind a Catholic service,? Ingolf said.?And I thought my folks here would prefer it that way.?

  Rudi nodded.?You?re handfasted when the two of you stand before the folk and say you are. Ceremonies mark a marriage, but they don?t make it, not to the Old Religion?s way of looking at things.?

  He cocked an eyebrow at Mathilda.?Matti and I have decided we?re to be wed, by the way.?

  Everyone congratulated them. He went on.?But we haven?t yet decided on a date…?

  Mathilda looked at him, turned on her heel and stalked back towards the Vogeler manor. ?Now, what was that about, for the sake of sweet Brigid Hearth-mistress?? Rudi said, bewildered.