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Without any further ado they faced up, rapiers at the ready, and on Lucinda’s call commenced the bout. Moll came almost instantly on the attack, her body flagging her intentions before her mind had even made itself up. Two rapid clangs sounded as their blades crissed and crossed. Another clang, then metal slid along metal. Step-step-step. Stomp. Oof. Thud.
Moll stumbled backwards before landing on her backside.
“You’re dead.” Lucinda stood over Moll. “I just pierced your chest.”
“How did that happen? What did I do wrong?”
“Failed to extend your arm before you lunged. I told you this earlier. If you keep on doing it, you will get the same result. You die. I live to tell the tale.”
Moll scowled and muttered and grumbled, but next time she was more circumspect. Instead of rushing into an attack she took her time and held back, weapon arm feinting and extending. “I think I shall wear breeches all of the time,” she declared as they continued to move forward and back. “They give the legs far more freedom than a dress.”
“Concentrate. Stop talking.”
“Silence is not my natural state.”
Before Moll finished the sentence, Lucinda stepped in with lightning speed, knocking Moll’s rapier almost out of her hand with a brutally forceful parry and bringing the tip of her own sword to rest underneath Moll’s chin.
“If this was a real fight, you would now have my sword stuck through your tongue, and silence would be your only state.”
Lucinda slowly dropped her sword leaving Moll to step back out of range, sheepish and chastened but not defeated.
“You won’t get me with that one again,” she said adjusting her stance and tugging down her doublet as the sound of clapping made them both turn their heads toward the door.
“Lord ’a mercy! That was magnificent. I did not know a woman could fight like that. Can you teach me too?” A girl with long blonde curls and a jiggling bosom made her way toward them still clapping her hands as she approached. From a distance she was comely, up close she was uncommonly pretty with cornflower blue eyes and clear rosy skin.
“Who is this?” Lucinda glared at Moll.
“I am Annie. I work here as you can see.” The girl plumped up her ample breasts which were already well on display and gave a coy flutter of her eyelashes while she twirled a blonde tress around one finger. Ignoring the rapier in Lucinda’s hand the girl came within breathing range to look Lucinda up and down. “Do you need to be big or tall like you and Moll, or can anyone learn to do that?”
“Anyone can learn,” Lucinda said.
“Excellent. Do you have another sword? I should like to start now.” Moll was no help at all and merely shrugged before passing her own rapier into Annie’s willing hands.
“How do I hold it?”
“Seize it like a cock,” Moll said, cackling at her own advice.
“Shows how much practice you’ve had Mary Frith. There are too many ways to count.”
“Imagine you are shaking hands then.” Moll demonstrated the correct grip as Lucinda had taught her. “Use a light touch so you can control it with your thumb and fingers.”
“That I can do. I am told I am very good with my hands.”
“Who is meant to be teaching this lesson?” Lucinda said, a question she instantly regretted as both Annie and Moll turned toward her at the same time.
“You are.”
Simple as that, the trap snapped shut.
Despite some initial timidity Annie also proved herself quick to learn. With her hair loose about her shoulders and her rosy complexion she looked as if she could be no older than sixteen, but the hard resolve that glinted in her cornflower blue eyes when she took the sword from Moll hinted at a greater age and harder experience than her innocent looks would suggest.
Since they only had two weapons to work with, Lucinda alternated instruction between the two, teaching the basics of the various guard positions, how to parry a simple attack and to judge the distance you needed to stay out of range. Towards the end of the lesson she spent a few minutes sparring with each of them in turn, allowing them to try and attack her whilst she kept them at bay. An intense bout of sword play quickly induces exhaustion, especially in a novice, and with her face flushed and her forehead beaded with sweat, Annie leaned on her knees to catch her breath.
“I never knew this sword fighting lark was so tiring,” she panted. “What should we practice until our next lesson?”
“I did not say there would be a next lesson.”
“You promised,” Moll wagged her finger.
