Part 7 (2/2)
”Oh, I say, Ben,” he cried at last; ”I didn't know you could use a stick like that.”
”Suppose not, my lad; but I knew you couldn't use a sword like that.
Now, I tell you what: you'd better come to me for an hour every morning before breakfast, and I'll begin to make such a man of you as your father would like to see when he comes back.”
”Well, I will come, Ben,” said the lad; ”but my arm does not ache so much now, and I don't feel quite beaten. Let's have another try.”
”Oh, I'll try all day with you, if you like, sir,” said the old soldier; ”only, suppose now you stand on guard and let me attack.”
”With swords?” said Roy, blankly.
”No, no,” said Ben, laughing; ”I don't want to hurt you. We'll keep to sticks. Better still: I want you to get used to handling a sword, so I'll have the stick and you shall defend yourself with a blade.”
”But that wouldn't be fair to you,” cried Roy. ”I might hurt you, while you couldn't hurt me.”
”Couldn't I?” said the old fellow, drily. ”I'm afraid I could, and more than you could me. Now, then, take that blade.”
He took one from the wall, a handsome-looking sword, upon which the armourer who made it had bestowed a good deal of ingenious labour, carving the sides, and ornamenting the hilt with a couple of beautifully fluted representations in steel of the scallop sh.e.l.l, so placed that they formed as complete a protection to the hand of the user as that provided in the basket-hilted Scottish claymore.
”Find that too heavy for you, sir?”
”It is heavy,” said Roy; ”but one seems to be able to handle it easily.”
”Yes, sir; you'll find that will move lightly. You see it's so well balanced by the hilt being made heavy. The blade comes up lightly, and, with a fair chance, I believe I could cut a man in two with it after a few touches on a grindstone.”
”Ugh!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Roy; ”horrid!”
”Oh, I don't know, sir. Much more horrid if he cut you in two. It's of no use to be thin-skinned over fighting in earnest. Man's got to defend himself. Now, then, let's give you a word or two of advice to begin with. A good swordsman makes his blade move so sharply that you can hardly see it go through the air. You must make it fly about like lightning. Now then, ready?”
”Yes; but you won't mind if I hurt you?”
”Don't you be afraid of doing that, sir. If you hurt me, it'll serve me right for being such a bungler. _En garde_!”
Roy threw himself into position, and the old soldier attacked him very slowly, cutting at his neck on either side, then down straight at his head, next at his arms and legs; and in every case, though in a bungling way, Roy interposed his blade after the fas.h.i.+on shown by his adversary.
Then the old fellow drew back and rested the point of his ash stick upon his toe, while Roy panted a little, and smiled with satisfaction.
”Come,” he said; ”I wasn't so bad there.”
”Oh, no, you weren't so bad there, because you showed that you'd got some idea of what a sword's for; but when you're ready we'll begin again. May as well have something to think about till to-morrow morning. First man you fight with won't stop to ask whether you're ready, you know.”
”I suppose not; but wait a minute.”
”Hour, if you like, sir; but your arms'll soon get hard. Seems a pity, though, that they're not harder now. I often asked the master to let me teach you how to use a sword.”
”Yes, I know; but my mother always objected. She doesn't like swords.
I do.”
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