As she allowed sleep to slowly tighten its grip on her, she considered the right and wrong of her decision to learn how to fight. There were more people than she cared to count hunting her down all across France. If she were not killed by one of the men after her bounty, then she would be killed when she was handed over to the nearest DeVeau. It seemed foolish to hesitate to kill any one of them. All of her reasons for wanting to learn how to use a sword were still sound. She just needed to gain the spine to learn the skill and use it well. Tomorrow, she decided firmly, she would begin all over again.
“Are ye sure, lass?” Nigel asked as he drew his sword and faced her.
He fought the urge to smile as he looked at her. She stood facing him squarely, the heavy sword held firmly in her small hands with admirable skill. Her pretty face was set in stubborn, serious lines, but that look of strength was softened by the way she lightly bit her full bottom lip. Nigel knew she would be angered and probably heartily insulted if he told her she was adorable. She certainly did not look like much of a threat, and if she could gain a reasonable skill with the weapon that could prove to be a very desirable advantage.
“I am sure,” she replied as she began to stalk him.
“Ye werenae verra sure last eve,” he reminded her as they cautiously circled each other, preparing for their mock battle.
“I but had a moment of weakness. Some clear thinking has cured me of that.”
“So, ’tis now kill or be killed?”
“That is the corner the DeVeaux push me into.”
“I was hoping that ye would recognize that hard truth. “Tis most admirable for a wee lass to possess the quality of mercy, but when she is facing men who want her dead mercy becomes a weakness they will certainly take swift advantage of.”
“I know, so I have stiffened my spine and hardened my heart.”
“Wise lass. Just remember that ye arenae fighting them now,” he added with a smile, and then he struck.
Gisele easily blocked the swing of his sword, and he nodded in approval. For a while he restrained himself, not using his full strength as they fought. He was a little surprised at how rapidly her skill with the weapon had improved. Nigel realized that Gisele had not only decided to keep at her lessons, but had come to understand that fighting was merely another means to insure her continued survival, that a sword could indeed be used to kill but it could also be used to stay alive. Gisele would probably never have the strength to be a truly lethal fighter, certainly not in a battle that required excessive endurance, but she had gained the spirit and determination to be a good one.
Slowly he increased the force of his attack. Each time he blocked her sword he told her how he had done it, and how she could possibly evade that. She was already growing tired, and he knew that she needed to learn more subtleties in her fighting style. It would be skill, a keen eye, and cleverness that won the battle for Gisele. She had more strength than many women, but she could never endure a long, hard battle with a fully grown man, not without a few clever tricks up her sleeve.
She cursed when he knocked the sword from her hand. “Mayhap I am wrong, and there truly are just some things that a woman cannot do.”
“Nay, lass, ye are doing verra weel, better than I had thought ye would.”
“Oh. Good. I do hate to be wrong.” She smiled when he laughed, then accepted her sword back and sheathed it. “It is kind of you to flatter me, but I still lose my sword each time we play this game.”
“Ye lose it because ye grow weary. Ye need to gain some strength in your sword arm. Ye also need to learn more guile, more subtleties. I think it is wit and speed that will win the battle for you.”
“So I must be careful to chose only stupid and slow men to fight with,” she drawled.
“It wouldnae hurt.”
Gisele shook her head, unable to fully repress a smile when he laughed. It stung a little to be told that she was not strong enough to hold her own against a man, but she knew it was true. She was tiny even in comparison to other women. If she ever had to face a man sword to sword, she suspected the battle would be delayed while he had himself a hearty laugh. There was certainly very little chance that she could win a battle on strength alone. She trailed after Nigel as he moved to build a fire, wondering exactly what he meant by wit and speed. Were there some tricks to it all that he had yet to show her?
“Wit and speed can win a battle?” she asked as she took the food from their saddlepacks.
“Of course. Not every knight is a truly skilled fighter, one who battles with grace and thought behind every move he makes. Some knights just hack away at their foe, back him into a corner through sheer brutish strength, and then cut him down.”
She frowned as she spread out their bedding and sat down. “That does not sound very glorious or honorable.”
“Mayhap not, but it can work, and the knight survives the battle.” He handed her some bread and cheese as he sat down beside her. “That knight might weel recognize that he doesnae have verra much skill and ne’er will, so he uses his only true advantages over others, his size, and his strength. Now,yecan ne’er depend upon size and strength, so ye must learn to think carefully, to watch your opponent’s every move with keen eyes, and to move with a speed and grace that keep ye out of reach of his sword until ye can find a chance to strike cleanly and quickly. And how ye strike is also important. Ye cannae just keep poking at a mon. Ye must learn how to strike him so that he cannae keep fighting you. That is how ye will survive.”
“What you are telling me is that I must learn how to survive until I can kill my enemy,” she murmured as she accepted the wineskin from him and took a long drink.
“Aye, lass, cold as it sounds, that is exactly what ye must do. Recognize your weaknesses and find a way to spite them.” He leaned back on his elbows and smiled at her. “I think ye could learn to skip about so swiftly ye could make your enemy fair dizzy from trying to watch you. Ye are already verra good at seeing a blow coming and blocking it. Ye just need to gain the strength in your sword arm so that a blow doesnae knock your sword aside and leave ye helpless.”
She grimaced and rubbed her arm. It was aching from all the swordplay she had indulged in the last few days. Gisele was not sure she could gain much more strength in it without damaging the poor thing, but she was determined to try. She was willing to concede that she could not win a battle on strength alone, that she needed skill and speed, but she refused to believe that she might always remain too weak to fight at all.
“Then I believe you had best begin to teach me such things,” she said, smiling faintly when he tugged her down into his arms. “I pray I shall ne’er have to put all of these skills to the test, for I have no wish to kill or maim a man, but I do not wish to feel helpless again.”
“Ye dinnae have to fight all who confront you,” he said, as he began to tug off her clothes, starting with her swordbelt. “Ye can still just run and hide.” He began to fear that by teaching her some skill with a sword he was imbuing her with a dangerous bravado.
“I know that, and it will always be my first choice. Do not fear that I will now decide to challenge all who chase me down. I may feel less helpless as I gain some skill with a sword, but having a weapon in my hands will not steal away my wits.”
