You took hold of the sword hilt with both hands as if you were going to chop with it like an ax. But, instead of advancing against your enemy with it held out before you directly, you held it firmly, but with your hands level with your forehead and the blade in a point-down position vertically parallel to your body.
Brian swore that particular position, in spite of its awkward appearance, allowed you to ward off blows quickly from any direction; and also to strike out at either leg or head of your opponent without warning. Jim had practiced it and had to admit there was some truth in what Brian said. But he still thought there must be a better way of using the weapon.
"Why the two-handed?" he asked Brian.
"Because it greatly increases your reach—and your arms have several inches advantage on Hugh de Bois already," said Brian. "The result being that if you were to use the two-handed and he stayed with his mace, he would be at a disadvantage reaching you. In effect, you could strike him, while still out of reach yourself. Also, it saves you the weight of a shield; which, since the object is to tire him down, will be a considerable advantage."
"I understand that, all right," said Jim, still dubious.
"But he will not hold to his mace, when he sees you," Brian went on as if Jim had not spoken. "He also will change to a two-handed sword."
"Ah," said Jim, beginning to see the glimmer of an advantage in this.
"The end result," said Brian, "is that he will move from the area of his strength into the area of yours."
"Ah," said Jim again.
"Whether he is as well schooled in the two-handed sword, we cannot tell," Brian went on. "In any case, your plan must be to stay away from him and work with your sword both on his sword arm and on his legs. The two-handed is not like a broadsword which you can shift to another hand, if the arm holding it becomes hurt. You will be without shield. So remember, rely on your speed and your agility, James, and you've at least a chance!"
Jim's spirits were beginning to rise. To begin with he had been merely obsessed with fury. Then, as Brian had started to talk, doubt had begun to creep in. Now that doubt had moved away from him. He did have faith in what his own legs could do—more so, even, than Brian knew.
"Now we will get you armored, armed, and ready, James," said Brian.
Twenty minutes later the two of them emerged from the tent to find that Theoluf and one of Malvinne's plate-armored men had been named as wardens of the lists. They were each holding a small rod of freshly cut wood as batons. They were also scowling at each other from opposite sides of what was to be the field of battle, which had been roped off from the spectators.
Under ordinary conditions, a stand would have been arranged to seat the officials and the principals watching the fight. But since no such thing was available at Malencontri, at the center of the field, on the side before the castle, there was a cluster of individuals around Carolinus; who had appeared, complete with a staff as tall as himself, and holding a third baton in his other hand.
Jim and Brian went toward him. Sir Hugh was already there. Carolinus had evidently simply shown up and taken up the position of judge without anyone asking him to hold it. Malvinne was still protesting this as they went over.
"You do not trust a fellow magician, Malvinne?" Carolinus was saying.
Malvinne sputtered.
"You know what I meant" he was saying. "You are as biased in this matter as I am!"
"I don't see why I should be, Stinky," said Carolinus, quite calmly. "It's true that one of the contestants is a pupil of mine; but the honor of a mage of my rank can surely disregard that. Besides, where are you going to find anyone else to fill this role? Anyone under the influence of the Dark Powers would not be acceptable in a trial before God; and no godly person would perform the service for you, particularly since you're under charges by the Accounting Office. I think you're stuck with me."
"Very well!" said Malvinne malevolently. "But I'm going to report any partisanship of yours when I face my charges."
"Report away, Stinky," said Carolinus, "and meanwhile, you might get out of my way so that I can see the field and the contestant with his associate approaching."
His last words had the result of directing everybody's attention to Brian and Jim as they came up.
It was a time for ritual questions and answers. Jim gave the proper response.
"I will bear a two-handed sword only," he announced.
"Very good," said Carolinus. "That is accepted. Your opponent has requested that there be no fighting on horseback. Will you agree to this?"
Jim was only too ready to agree to this, and he knew that Brian beside him felt exactly the same way. Jim's weakest point was jousting. He also knew why Malvinne had suggested it. On foot, it might be possible for Sir Hugh to knock him unconscious or make him yield. But with lance on horseback, there was no way that Sir Hugh would be able to judge between a use of his weapon that would kill, or only just disable. As Brian had reminded Jim, Malvinne wanted him in the shape of a prisoner.
"I am agreeable," said Jim.
Carolinus turned to Sir Hugh.
"And I understand you will be carrying mace and shield?" he asked the former Lord of Malencontri.
"No," said Sir Hugh, with a grim smile at Jim. "So as not to seem to take any advantage, I will give up my shield and carry, as he does, a two-handed sword only."
"Excellent," said Carolinus in that same cold, official voice. "You may now retire to opposite ends of the lists. The marshals will be instructed to hold up their batons. When they allow their arms holding the batons to fall, you may start walking toward each other. After that, may God defend the right!"
Jim turned away, Brian still beside him, and began heading toward the eastern end of the list. He had turned without thinking, perfectly automatically, but it was well he did. Sir Hugh's slight pause, while he got rid of his mace and had it replaced by a two-handed sword, had given Jim the chance to take the end of the list that would put the sun at his back.
Shortly now, the sun would be straight overhead, in any case; and there would probably be little difference in who started where. Besides, as they moved around, Jim might well find himself facing east whether he wanted to or not. Nonetheless, for the moment it was another small advantage.
In spite of the clouds, the day was warming.
For some strange reason they had had good weather not only in England but during the crossing to France and while they were in France itself. Now, once more back in England, the weather was still good. Jim wondered idly, as he plodded toward the far end of the list, if the Dark Powers had something to do with this. Or was something as large as weather beyond their control?
He reached the end of the list and turned. Sir Hugh was still walking toward his end. A moment later, he reached it, and turned to face Jim. They were now about fifty yards apart. The marshals lifted their arms simultaneously, so that they held the batons up over their heads. Then, at a word from Carolinus, they dropped them.
Jim began the long walk toward his opponent.
Sir Hugh was also approaching him. The other was carrying, Jim saw, his own two-handed sword in the same position of readiness that Jim was carrying his.
The great sword did not look awkward, held in that position by Sir Hugh. Rather it looked merely comfortable, as if long practice had trained the other to carry it that way. For a moment Jim felt a fear that the very way he was holding his sword would give his inexperience away to Hugh. Then he shoved this thought from his mind and concentrated on more immediate things.
He put his mind to thinking about the various moves he could remember from his twentieth-century days, playing volleyball and basketball. He had been a natural at both. Right now he was trying to think which moves, if any, would prove useful to him in this coming bout.
One thing that would come in handy, he thought, would be the fact that he had learned to fake an opponent out with a move of his body, without moving his feet. Also, Sir Hugh might not be familiar with the sidestep and sudden sp
in that could bring him partway around on the flank of an opponent before the other could realize what was happening. He looked ahead.
Sir Hugh had grown considerably in the scene before him. They were getting very close together. Now they were only a few steps apart. As they stepped within reach of each other's weapons, without warning Sir Hugh let go of his hilt, dropped his weapon, then crouched, and caught it again a good eight inches lower. With the point now barely above the ground, he lunged upward, driving that point toward Jim's helmet.
The only thing that saved Jim in this moment was the fact that he had already made up his mind to feint right with his body, but with his feet in place, then execute the quick sidestep and spin, after the basketball motion he had been thinking of. Consequently, he was already in motion when Sir Hugh began his lunge, and the sharp point of the long sword licked empty air. Thinking that the other was wide open for a return blow, Jim commenced a swing with his blade at Sir Hugh's near shoulder.
But Sir Hugh, still in me crouching position, managed to pivot and, raising his sword into blade-up guard position, was able to block most of the force of the blow; so that only the tip of Jim's blade licked against the metal of his shoulder. A shout went up from the locals, who counted this, clearly, as an effective hit. Jim, himself, knew it had not been. He stepped swiftly backward as Sir Hugh's blade glanced off his own in the guard position, and drove once more at Jim's helm.
Again, Hugh reached empty air, for Jim was out of range. Sir Hugh straightened his knees in what was almost a spring, to bring himself back once more within striking range. He had the large sword again in blade-down position; and this time it swept forward to cut at Jim's leg, but changed in midswing to direct itself once more at Jim's shoulders or head.
Jim spun right, and the blade missed. But he was beginning to see some purpose in what Sir Hugh was doing. The other knight was hoping to disable Jim without actually killing him, with some kind of head blow—preferably one that would twist his helmet around on his shoulders, so that he could no longer see through the visor. Jim blocked Hugh's blade; and was unpleasantly startled by the power behind it. Brian had not exaggerated when he said that Sir Hugh had a strong upper body.
They continued, Hugh advancing, Jim dodging and retreating. Gradually, the tactics of the two men became obvious to the watchers and Malvinne's armed men, now seated on the grass in front in rows, with their hands still tied behind them.
These began to jeer and catcall. Jim had no time to pay attention to this, but out of the corner of his eye he saw his own and Brian's men-at-arms moving between the ranks of seated men. The jeering stopped—cut off, in one instance, rather abruptly.
The combat continued. Jim was watching for signs that Sir Hugh might be tiring, but saw none. Unhappily, at the same time, he became conscious that he, himself, was tiring. This continual quick movement, as the sun heated up their armor, was taking the strength out of him.
It occurred to him that with his spins and evades, he might be being a little too fancy—using up energy, where Sir Hugh was conserving it.
He tried to think of what he would do if he abandoned his plan. But no alternative came to mind. He had ample evidence from a number of glancing, but very noticeable, blows from Sir Hugh that the other was far and away his superior at close quarters.
Jim's legs were holding up all right. He had never doubted that they would. But his arms and shoulders were getting tired from manipulating the heavy sword.
The common people from Jim's lands who were watching did not jeer, but there was a glumness about them. Clearly, they, like Malvinne's warriors, had come to the conclusion that Jim was afraid of his opponent and doing his best to evade him.
Well, thought Jim sourly, they were right—at least in part.
But evasion could not go on forever. Sooner or later they would have to reach the point of trading blows, and Jim did not like to think of what would happen to him when they came to that point.
He had this thought so firmly fixed in mind that it was not until after receiving another of Sir Hugh's glancing blows—this time in his side as he spun away once more from the other man—that he realized the blow had not been as heavy as some the other man had struck earlier.
It had never occurred to him that Sir Hugh's arms might also tire. He had expected it from his own arms, but he had unconsciously assumed that the other was as capable in the upper part of his body as Jim was in his lower. Cautiously he invited a blow that he could at least partially block. Sure enough, it seemed to him that Sir Hugh was not striking with the strength he had struck with before.
It was a common thing among boxers, Jim knew, to become arm-weary in the course of a bout. This was often increased by an opponent's pummeling of the muscles of those same arms. Jim had been scoring his few blows against Sir Hugh's arms. It was just possible this was having an effect.
Now that he had concentrated on this business of arm weariness, Jim was becoming more and more conscious of the growing weakness in his own arms. Eventually, this must bring him to the point where he could not strike an effective blow, that would tell against the other through his armor. In short, his time was limited. Which meant that somewhere along the line he would have to take the initiative and close with Sir Hugh. Then it would be the other man's weakened arms against his own.
Meanwhile, he was still doing his best to tire out Sir Hugh's legs. He was spinning clear around behind the other knight now and striking at him almost from straight behind. In Jim's helmet, sweat ran down off his forehead and dripped in his eyes. His whole suit of armor felt as if its inner padding had been soaked in water. He wondered if Hugh was suffering such difficulties; and the next time he spun close to Hugh, he deliberately listened.
Yes, Sir Hugh was panting hoarsely within his own helm.
But now Jim's arms were getting very tired. It was time to gamble. He started one of his usual fakes and spins, but this time did not complete it. He stood still and took the full swing of Sir Hugh's sword against his own.
The impact jarred his arms to his elbows. But it did not seem to have the deadly power of Sir Hugh's earlier blows. Sudden hope flared up in Jim. His arms had just about reached their limit of being able to strike an effective blow, anyway.
He stood where he was, parried another blow from Hugh and struck back, without dodging.
Neither one was using the point-down guard position anymore. Both were simply holding their swords point-forward and taking alternate swings at each other. A sudden sense of intoxication began to fill Jim from this new, stationary way of fighting. He was through with shadowboxing; and it was a relief to simply catch blows and strike back. The enthusiasm mounted in him as he heard Hugh's hoarse panting, even over his own gasping for air within his helmet. For a moment he played with the idea that Sir Hugh was tired to the point where now they were a match. All he had to do was keep chopping away like this, and shortly victory would be his.
He was still thinking this when Sir Hugh's blade, coming from nowhere it seemed, slashed full against the front of his helmet and turned it partly around on his head. What he had feared had happened—but not completely. He could still see the bars on the left-hand side of his visor with his right eye.
One-eyed, his sense of perspective was gone and as a result, his judgment of distance. Fury opened up in him like the door of a lit blast furnace. He had done exactly what he told himself he would not do, what Brian had warned him against. He had tried to match his strength against Sir Hugh's where the other was strong. Both he and Hugh were out on their feet, but one decisive blow by either would decide the combat. There were not many blows left in either one of them. He was rocked on his feet suddenly by the full impact from Sir Hugh's sword against the metal capping the point of his right shoulder, on his blind side.
"Got you… you bastard!" the other gasped.
He realized then that they had both gone beyond the point of taking prisoners. Hugh, in particular, was out to kill him; and now he seemed in good po
sition to do so. Another glancing blow turned Jim's helmet even further around. Now he could hardly see his opponent at all. Any moment now Sir Hugh would be able to choose the place where the edge of his blade would land, and that would be the beginning of the end for Jim.
The next blow would be the finish. Jim suddenly thought of his duel with the pirate chieftain, when he and Brian, with a handful of men-at-arms, had led the relief of Castle Smythe. His legs were still good.
He leaped. His leap carried his waist almost level with Sir Hugh's upper chest. It was the last thing the other knight was expecting; and for just a moment he hesitated in delivering the blow he was about to strike.
In that moment Jim's powerful legs drove his heels out in a double kick against the armored shoulders he had been pounding with his blade all through the combat.
Sir Hugh went down, flat on his back. A second later, Jim was standing on the one arm of the other's that still held the hilt of the two-handed sword. He put the tip of his own sword between the bars of Sir Hugh's helmet.
"You yield?" he gasped.
"I yield," came back from Sir Hugh croakingly—just as cries of "Hold!" came from both sides of the field. Jim looked up to see both marshals running toward him, their batons thrown down. Beyond them Carolinus's baton was on the ground before him. Clearly, they thought him as filled with the lust to kill as Sir Hugh had been—and probably he had been, at that. At any rate, it was over now.
He stepped back, taking his foot off the wrist of the hand that had held Sir Hugh's sword, but which had now let go.
He kicked the sword out of the reach of the fallen knight. And stood a moment, rocking on his feet with weariness, before the heat of his armor, the exhaustion of the battle, the reaction of having won, all combined against him. The landscape spun around him as he fell.
Chapter Forty-Five
Jim could not have been unconscious for more than a few seconds. He was roused by the voice of Carolinus calling him.
When with great effort he staggered to his feet, hardly anything about him seemed to have changed from the moment before. But there were changes happening. The clouds were now rushing together to form a solid, heavy, dark blanket over them. A wind had come up from nowhere and was blowing in all directions at once. Now from his right, now from his left, now—it seemed—directly down from overhead. The staff in Carolinus's hands had grown half again its length, and he gripped it higher up.