Cunning Fish of the Forest - Chapter 11

Ger had never formally learned swordplay, and that was unlikely to change. It seemed almost improbable that Ger, who earned a modest living tending to horses, would one day wield a sword more expensive than five years of his salary.

The idea was as unrealistic as the notion of me, a woman, taking up a sword.

“Miss!”

“Don’t go easy on me!”

In the chapel’s courtyard, two unlikely swordsmen—myself and Ger—were mock-fencing with broomsticks.

The narrow back path leading to the stables offered limited space for running and a high risk of being caught by a vigilant maid. The stakes were lower for me; at worst, I might miss a few meals.

For Ger, however, the consequences could be harsher, though not life-threatening.

Unable to risk such dangers, I devised a plan.

With my father away on estate patrols for several days and my mother preoccupied with guests, I found myself with an unexpected amount of free time. I decided Ger and I would take over the chapel for our escapades.

Moved by my ingenious plan, Ger transformed his broomstick into a makeshift wooden sword. After lunch, Ger would finish his chores and meet me in the chapel courtyard. I often arrived a bit later, having to secure my mother’s permission.

“Dodge, Miss!”

“I’m dodging!”

What we engaged in was a form of swordplay practice, devised by Ger based on what he had seen, though neither of us could afford a proper teacher. It was a slight improvement from the back-alley stick fights common among local boys.

The defender would step back to block, while the attacker pushed forward, thrusting the makeshift weapon.

Ger became bold when defending but stiffened like frozen timber when it was his turn to attack. The fear of accidentally hurting me made him cautious.

Yet, I carried a risk as significant as his. I had pushed away my mother’s trusting touch to be here. He’s not the only one scared of the repercussions.

“Time’s up!”

After counting to twenty, I was able to defend myself using the broomstick sword. Ger, who was approaching with a clumsy thrust, tripped over his own feet.

“Ah, Miss!”

I switched the broomstick from one hand to both hands. We exchanged a few bouts, but as the end drew near, Ger’s sword was steadily pushed back. He bent his waist trying to dodge the downward strikes.

“Ugh!”

I took advantage of Ger’s opening and swept my broomstick upward. Ger’s stick spun in the air and landed handle-first into the ground. I let go of the broomstick, my hands trembling and unable to stop shaking.

Although I had won again today, the thrill and excitement were not as intense as on the first day.

“Ger!”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Why do you keep holding back?”

I had thrown my all into these daily duels at the chapel. I had defied my mother’s expectations with my braided hair and closed off my father’s advice. I had no thought of blaming Ger for any injuries that happened during our sparring; bruises and scrapes were too trivial for concern.

“You are doing well, Miss.”

“I hate insincere praise more than insults. Haven’t I told you that?”

Ger’s attitude had not progressed beyond that of a stable boy’s son. He bristled, his neck flushing red.

“It’s true, please believe me. You have a talent for the sword, Miss!”

“I’m not asking you to recognize my talent. I’m asking you to give your best right now with me and this sword.”

“I did give it my all!”

“Liar.”

I thought he was just pandering to me because I was his superior, using flattery typical of a subordinate. All the times I pretended to be a mature lady now seemed a waste.

“Let’s stop for today.”

Engrossed in our swordplay, the second month of spring had arrived unnoticed. The reality of my impending arranged marriage was drawing ever closer. Even the solace I found in playing with Ger was beginning to fade.

“Miss.”

“Go on inside.”

“Miss, I really…”

“I said that’s enough. Just go.”

I cut off Ger’s saddened response and walked away, my shoulders slumping.

Ten days ago, I had started leaving my cumbersome shoes and skirt draped over a chapel chair to avoid hindrance during our sparring sessions. Having discovered the comfort of dueling in bare feet and just my white undergarments, I couldn’t go back.

For the first three days, I was cautious, worried about being caught, but after realizing no one frequented the area near the chapel, I ran around like the boys did until sunset.