Chapter 11
Eleven
Galehaut remained cordial, if impatient with me. During our equestrian practices he scowled silently as I continued to struggle in chain mail. But in the third week, when we began to spar, everything changed.
In a secluded clearing, deep in the woods, weapons were laid out on an oilcloth. Bagotta grabbed a mace by its polished hilt and pinched one of its steel spikes.
Beyond the sword in the lake, our island had no weapons. Their presence shocked me.
“You’re unaccustomed to holding weapons,” Bagotta said.
I nodded, cheeks flaring. I expected a snicker from Galehaut, a belittling quip, but he was quiet.
She raised a long-hafted weapon with a half-moon blade. “This is a poleaxe,” she said. “This is a sword. This is a pike.”
As she walked through the uses of each weapon, I fought the instinct to turn away.
“There is no shame in this,” she said, sensing my disquiet. “The Distant Isles are largely peaceful. I will teach you how to wield these weapons. But first, you’ll learn on these.”
She gestured towards a stack of wooden swords and shields. And our lesson began.
We spent the next two hours going through the basics of swordsmanship.
Galehaut rolled his eyes. I was sick of his scorn, sick of feeling unworthy.
It was clear that my prophecy was a ruse, that if anyone was destined for greatness it was him, not me.
But his bald contempt made me falter all the more.
In my mind, I was beginning to blame him for all my falls and mishaps.
Had Arthur ever felt this way towards Kay? No, after the lake vision, I was certain he hadn’t. Arthur seemed to shrug off his mistakes; he was kinder to himself. He didn’t carry around a knot of self-loathing the way I did.
But Kay was not Galehaut, and I was certainly not Arthur.
I could feel the rage mounting, and I tried to breathe through it.
Using Bagotta’s technique, I focused on my surroundings: bold sky, no clouds, sun beating against my neck.
A wren’s song mixing with the susurrus of lime trees.
Galehaut stepping between bent sedge and sweet violet, the flex of his forearms as he thrust his wooden sword.
“When you make a plunging cut, aim here.” Bagotta steered my wooden sword towards Galehaut’s shoulder. “And Galehaut, you’d dodge this and counterattack with a shifting cut.”
Even without Bagotta shouting instructions, I found myself anticipating his movements. I could envision his jabs and dodges, his lateral attacks and defensive blocks. I could tell he was eager to take his frustration out on me.
Galehaut was stronger than me. I’d never outpower him. But as I moved about the meadow, training my eyes on the slightest shift of his grip, I discovered that I was faster. The clatter of wood echoed through the clearing.
“His lower half is exposed,” Bagotta shouted to me. “Hit him with a downward thrust.” He tried to dodge me, but I was too fleet-footed. I jabbed my sword towards Galehaut’s kidney, stopping just as the wooden tip touched his tunic.
“Got me.” Galehaut chuckled, a bit surprised, and shook it off. Give the island orphan a win, he probably thought. Something to compensate for my pitiful performance on horseback. I gritted my teeth and we returned to sparring. Bagotta nodded in approval.
“Aim towards the face. Cleverness defeats strength. Save your thrusts for the right moment,” she shouted. “Now shove him away and pin him by the elbow!” I did as instructed, bringing Galehaut to his knees and shocking us both in the process.
Had it been a lucky shot? A mistake on his part? Galehaut rolled out his shoulders and we returned to fighting position. I’d followed Bagotta’s commands, but had not expected him to yield so easily.
As we sparred back and forth, thrusting and blocking, I sensed Galehaut’s burgeoning hostility.
Try as he might, he could not win against me.
I blocked and dodged his attacks and found his weak spots.
I had Bagotta’s direction, but I felt, even without it, that I could turn my body into a weapon.
With the proper mindset, sparring came as naturally to me as breathing.
Neither of us had anticipated that I would take to fighting so quickly.
“Yes!” Bagotta called. “Now lock his sword.” I clamped his hilt between my elbows and rested my own blade against Galehaut’s neck. A death blow.
Galehaut let out a frustrated yell.
Bagotta tried to remain measured, but I could tell she was impressed.
I was good. Maybe great. In sword fighting, I did not have to think.
I could see Galehaut’s thrusts before they happened, anticipate the hops and pivots of his feet.
My smaller stature didn’t matter. If anything, I’d turned it into an advantage.
“That’s enough for today,” Bagotta said, after I ducked Galehaut’s thrust and swiped him in the leg, knocking him to the ground.
“No,” he grunted. “I’m not done. Go again.”
Galehaut was covered in dirt and sweat, his eyes heavy. He pushed the hair off his forehead and got in fighting stance.
Sensing his irritation, I backed off a bit, offering a weak guard. Galehaut charged, and trapped me with a blade below the armpit. His first win.
“What was that!” He threw his sword to the ground.
“What do you mean? You thrusted and—”
“You stopped trying. You let me have that.”
I went silent.
“Don’t ever go easy on me like that,” he said.
“You were getting frustrated. I—”
“I’m mad at myself. Not you.” He picked up his sword and pointed his foot forward. “Again. And this time, don’t hold back.”
After fighting, we went to the shore. Galehaut took off his tunic and charged into the water.
I submerged myself at a distance, still reeling from the shock of our session.
Where had these skills come from? Had they been with me since birth?
I wondered if my mother had sensed I would be a fighter as I floated and kicked within her.
Did such a thought enliven her or fill her with fear?
I heard splashes and looked up. Galehaut had swum over to me.
“You’re very good,” he said, his chest glistening with salt water.
“I was as shocked as you,” I replied.
“No,” he said. “I was not shocked.”
I could tell, in the shift of his mouth, the glint of his eyes, that he was reassessing my worth.
“Thank you.”
“You are better than anyone I’ve seen.”
“That’s nice of you to say.”
“I mean it,” he said, sinking down to his neck and treading water.
“You’re quite good as w—”
“No. Stop. You don’t have to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Deflect back to me. Dodge the compliment. Take it. You’ve earned it.”
I tried to stand a bit taller. I dug my toes into the sand.
“Fine.”
He started trudging towards the shore.
“Well?” he said.
“Well what?”
“Aren’t you coming?”
He shot me a look that said, I know I’m trying your patience. And I know you don’t mind one bit.
“I thought you don’t need one,” I said.
“One what?”
“A friend.”
He smiled wider. “Who said we’re friends?”