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“She is wearing breeches, and I caught him, sorry, her lurking about and smoking a pipe.” Her feet and arms had not relinquished their position as door struts, so Lucinda gently nudged her arm lower to allow Moll to enter.
“Grandma, do you think we could discuss this inside?”
“Of course, of course.” She dropped her arms, readjusted her footing and smoothed down her skirt. “I beg your pardon, though you can understand my mistake.”
Moll flashed her impossibly white grin. “I am mistaken for a man all the time. Part of why I took to smoking. If I am to be thought of as a man, I might as well have some of the benefits.”
It was not the most auspicious of starts but once they were inside all was swiftly forgotten. Moll looked around the fencing room in a state of awe. “This is wonderful. How fortunate you were to grow up here!”
“I was indeed.” Lucinda could not help but bristle with pride while Grandma Jones could not help but stare at Moll. Then, not content with merely staring, she proceeded to attack her with a volley of questions.
“If you don’t mind my asking, out of the curiosity of my craft and profession, do you possess all the female equipment?” As if this was not bad enough, she used her hands to indicate the location of the said “equipment“.
“Grandma!” Lucinda admonished, but Moll did not seem to be bothered.
“All the equipment, though sadly, rarely used,” Moll replied with a laugh.
“I only ask because I have sometimes birthed a child who is in possession of both sets.”
“Truly?” Moll said while Lucinda sank deeper into a swamp of mortification. “That can happen?”
“Not often but I have seen it with my own eyes.”
“Grandma, that sounds like someone at the door.” Thankfully she took the hint leaving Lucinda to apologize on her behalf. Moll waved off her apology saying that she would rather be asked direct questions than be stared at or fondled.
“When I wore a dress, men would oft times brush up against me to check whether I possessed breasts or bollocks. I get less of that when I dress like this.”
In quick succession the rest of the Sisters of the Sword arrived. Maud was the last arrival which was a fortunate thing as Grandma was able to warn her in advance of Moll’s ambiguous appearance. Even so the girl was still wary around Moll. After introducing Maud to the others simply as the blacksmith’s daughter, Lucinda wasted no time in starting the class. Moll, Lizzie and Annie were all on their best behavior. This may have been due to the fact they were in awe of their surroundings, training in a proper fencing academy instead of the brew house of a brothel, or it may have been in deference to the wary energy and fear that emanated from Maud.
They lined up in front of Lucinda, eager faces staring back. A more varied group of women you couldn’t hope to see. Pretty Annie with her rosy complexion and blonde curls under her cap looked a bit like a painting of a milkmaid but for the leathers she wore over her lowcut bodice which added an agricultural but alluring effect. With her bountiful breasts and come-hither eyes, Annie could wear nothing but sackcloth, and her allure would shine through.
Lizzie, too, was striking in her own way, a little rounder and plumper than Annie, her prettiness more care-worn and faded, and marred by her missing front teeth, but she was still striking thanks to her mass of red curls, caught up loosely into a bun. She always wore the same good quality but very patched grey dress, most likely because it was the only dress she owned.
Dear sweet Maud, on the other hand, thanks to her light brown plaits coiled like ears on her head, looked very much like a frightened bunny. Maud was the very opposite of Moll, apart from the light brown, indistinct color of their hair. Big brash, manly Moll with the very white teeth, not entirely female, nor entirely male, but striding some singular space between the two.
“Do you mind if I hitch up my skirts,” Annie asked, struggling to master the footwork for a rapier drill and tucking a blonde curl back under her cap. They were forever escaping. She kept lunging forward when she should have been stepping backward, at times almost tripping on her dress. “Do you have anything I may use to secure them?”
Without thinking Lucinda tossed her a coil of rope, which Annie proceeded to tie around her waist. The next moment, Maud’s sword clattered to the ground. Maud stood frozen, her face drained of color. The only part of her slight body still capable of moving was her now empty hand. Her fingers opened and clenched and opened again though everything else took on the semblance of a statue. A short clump of hair stuck up from her head where it had been seized and cut short.
“Whatever is the matter?” As Lucinda retrieved the sword from the floor, Maud’s eyes alighted on the rope around Annie’s middle. “Oh! I did not think.” She punched her hand against her thigh, berating herself for her thoughtless action. “It is the rope.” She turned to face the others debating how much to explain. “She…”
“I was attacked,” Maud confessed in a very tiny voice as a weighty silence settled on their group. Moll fetched her a drink of ale while Lizzie shepherded her to a nearby bench. Looking at Maud most solemnly, Lizzie ran her fingers through her own thick red curls, parting them to reveal a missing patch. “You too?” Maud gasped, her fingers flying up to her own hair. Lizzie nodded. “So I am not the only one. That is both a comfort and a terrible thing.”
“Shall I take this off?” Annie said gently, pointing at the rope around her waist.
“No,” Maud said, her voice strengthened with a new resolve. “It will serve to remind me why I am here. May we go on with the lesson? I have a powerful need for something to stab.”
“Very well,” Lucinda said, setting both Maud and Lizzie up in front of the dummies made from reeds. “You can stab at these as hard as you like. Imagine here are the guts, here is the heart, and here is the throat.”
Leaving Lizzie and Maud to work out their anger she spent time training Moll and Annie until Grandma brought them all some ale to slake their thirst. Once their mugs were empty Lucinda asked them to put the swords away.
“Time for some diversion,” she said rubbing her hands together. “Would you like to assist?” she asked Moll, who might not have agreed so readily if she knew what was coming her way. “Try and attack me from behind.”
“Are you sure?” Moll asked.
“Trust me,” Lucinda replied. Moll crept around behind her then swiftly made to grab her, but within less than a second Moll was flat on her back staring up at the ceiling with a look of alarm.
“How did that happen?” she said.
Annie clapped her hands with equal parts admiration and glee. “Oh, I should like to learn that.”
“And I shall teach you all next week,” Lucinda promised.
“No!” They all protested, declaring it was too cruel to make them wait.
“I am pleased you are all so eager,” Lucinda said, “but fighting is best learned with coolness and dispassion, when the body is fresh, and the mind is sharp. It will give you something to look forward to next week.” Despite their groans and grumbles she was secretly pleased. Since she had been instructing The Sisters, she had come to the conclusion a lesson is like a performance.
Best to end on a high note and leave the crowd begging for more.
