The Blademaster

“Come on Henry!” Mariette said. “Play with me” She chucked a doll at the tall, lanky boy, and he swatted it aside with a wooden sword.

“Sorry kiddo,” he said. “I don’t have time for games any more. I have to practice.” He squared his shoulders and then raised his wooden blade. He launched into a series of sword forms, maneuvering his feet like he was dancing.

Mariette laughed and twirled into his path. He swerved around her, not sparing a glance for her impersonation of a ballerina. He kept going, hacking his blade, staring at a future she couldn’t see.

The next day was the same. And the day after. Mariette’s laughter died. “Will you ever play with me again?” she asked.

Henry wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. He didn’t look at her when he answered. “Swordsmanship is a full time commitment. Master Landon said I have what it takes to be a great blademaster. And that path means no distractions.”

“I’m a distraction?” Mariette asked, dashing in the way of his sword strokes. He switched hands and skirted the wooden sword around her without pausing.

“When we were kids, you said you’d marry me!” Mariette huffed, drawing herself up to her full height… which was quite short. They were still kids.

“My only mistress is the sword,” Henry said, holding his sword horizontally above his head and following the motions of a new form.

“That sounds really stupid,” Mariette said. “You can have a life and be a swordsman. I bet I could do it.”

“Oh yeah?” Henry said, as he whirled his blade, the air thrumming as he cut it. “If you beat me, I’ll marry you.”

“Really?” asked, her eyes brightening.

“Sure,” Henry said. “It would mean you’re right and I’m wrong. And life would be practice. But you can’t beat me.”

Mariette was already running to a stack of wooden staves Henry kept in a pile on the edge of the grassy field. She grabbed one and charged at him.

Henry continued the motions of the sword form as she reached him. He stepped around her and deviated from the form for only a moment- to thwack her behind.

She was sent sprawling, the stave flying out of her hand. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she reached out for the stave, crawled to her feet, and charged at him again. And again.

Henry finally abandoned his practice with a sigh, throwing his wooden sword to the side. He picked her up, threw her over his shoulder and carried her home to the cottage beside his. She was too tired to squirm. “I’ll beat you, just you wait,” she said.

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“Sure,” he said.

***

Mariette thwacked the straw dummy a dozen times over with her wooden sword. Pieces of hay floated in the air, several settling gently on homespun woolen clothes, and nestling in her brown hair.

The ‘clomp clomp’ sound in the distance made her stop abruptly. She panted, and then broke out into a smile. She dashed out of the barn, past the excited moos of her family’s cows, and leapt over the neighbor’s fence.

Henry was wearing chainmail over his black sweater. His horse was hitched to a post in front of the cottage.

“We’re doing this now?” He asked.

She threw a wooden sword at him and he caught it with one hand.

“You’re not even going to ask how I did?”

She separated her feet and lowered her stance.

“Maybe I’m too tired to do this.”

She charged at him, feinting a strike to his head, dropping the sword, catching it, and then slashing at his liver.

Her wrist stung and she dropped the sword before the blow could land. She blinked, unsure how he’d managed to hit her.

She pouted and looked at him. “I know you won the tournament and didn’t break a sweat,” she said.

“I’m not marrying you today,” he said, smiling as he walked inside.

She reached down to pick up her wooden sword and the horse neighed in sympathy. She stroked its chestnut ridge of hair.

***

Mariette’s opponent was face first in the ground before he knew what was happening. She grinned. Her first tournament and she was going to the championship bout.

She walked into the dressing room, slouched against the wall and then herself slump all the way to the ground.

She sat that way for an hour, her heart pounding, blood pumping through her head and blotting out thought. An announcer's voice broke through the din outside, and it was time already.

She shook her limbs, touched her toes and then reached for the ceiling. She picked up her blunted iron sword and walked out calmly, evenly, even as butterflies gnawed the inside of her stomach.

Henry was already in the center of the ring, practicing a sword form, unconcerned with the gawking of thousands in the audience.

“Not surprised you made it to the final,” he said, finishing the form and standing straight, sword stretched in front of him. He looked at her- he saw nothing but her and their swords.

“You’re going to have to marry me today,” she said, pulling her sword back, preparing for a thrust. Henry cracked a smile.

The announcer’s words were inaudible in the world they built around themselves, but the bell stirred them into motion.

Their swords clanged a dozen times as they danced, faster and faster. Mariette twirled like a ballerina and this time Henry didn’t swerve around her- he broke her momentum, hacked and hacked.

The audience held their breath, but the two swordsmen hadn’t noticed they’d been yelling before.

Mariette struck and Henry parried. Henry launched into a combination for forms conducted in reverse and Mariette met him step for step. He lunged, she danced to the side, and then threw her blade at him, like the doll he’d broken years before.

It hit his forehead and he stumbled back. She caught her sword as it bounced back and laughed, readying a follow-up strike.

Henry fell backwards, spread-eagle, his arms outstretched in exaggerated fashion, his sword dangling in his hand.

“Oh get up, it's not over,” Mariette chuckled.

He didn’t move.

“You’re giving up?” she said. “That means I win! We’re getting married! I talked to the Vicar beforehand to prepare a ceremony but I didn’t think it would happen, I can’t believe it!”

She knelt and outstretched a hand to help him to his feet. He didn’t take it.

“Hey Henry,” she said slowly, slapping his cheek. “Henry, come on, we’re getting married. You promised.”

She knelt there until, still numb to the audience’s quiet, and then its shouts and screams.

***

People whispered as she walked past, her blade held point down in her right hand. She never sheathed it anymore.

“That’s her- she killed blademaster Landon. It was the most incredible duel I’d ever seen. Blunted swords, but still, get hit the wrong way and-”

“Hey you!” A gruff voice said. A behemoth of a man blocked her path, his longsword pointed at her forehead. “They say you’re the best. Face me. I couldn’t make that crappy tournament-”

His teeth fell out as she removed the edge of her blunted blade from his mouth. He fell to his knees. She walked past him.

“Swordsmanship is a full time commitment. Master Landon said I have what it takes to be a great blademaster. And that path means no distractions.”

“I’m a distraction?”

“I’ll beat you, just you wait”