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“Of your thievery,” Lucinda said as she adjusted the straps of the basket where they dug into her shoulders. “I did you a service not calling The Watch, or you would be locked up in The Clink by now.”
The cutpurse moved on to her other hand where she continued to pick at her nails. “You denied me a good afternoon’s takings, and you took my knife. That is hardly a service. I believe I am owed some compensation, for my loss and my silence.” Having finished mining her nails, she flicked the accumulated horde of grit Lucinda’s way.
“That is a filthy habit,” Lucinda said eying her with a mix of wariness and disgust.
“I usually clean my nails with my knife. So hand it over.”
“I do not have money if that is what you are after.”
“It is not what I am after.” A broad grin broke across her face, and Lucinda noted the young woman was in possession of surprisingly even teeth although the rest of her face was more remarkable for its complete lack of beauty. “Knowledge is more valuable than coin, do you not find?” she said.
Unease thickened in Lucinda’s gut. “What is it you desire of me?”
“What I desire of you is simple. I saw the way you use a sword. I would like to learn, and I want you to teach me.”
“Teach you sword play?”
“Indeed.” The woman pulled a pipe out of a slit in her skirt, filled it, and then lit it with some flint. She puffed a few times until the end of the pipe was glowing. “No need to look so alarmed. I acquired this pipe from a gentleman’s purse and find it a pleasurable past time. Would you like to try?”
Lucinda shook her head. The smoke blowing in her face was bad enough; she couldn’t imagine sucking the foul substance inside her lungs. “Women do not smoke,” she declared, sounding awfully like her grandmother.
“Women do not fight with rapiers,” the pipe-smoking cutpurse replied.
“Touché.”
They stood a few yards apart facing each other, as if they were already fencing opponents. The woman’s eyes were small, her skin sallow and her jaw large and square, almost the complete opposite of Lucinda. In build she was more like a man, broad-shouldered and thick of limb, not as tall as Lucinda though she certainly looked strong as a carthorse.
“I have some understanding of the basics,” she continued between sucking on the pipe and puffing out wisps of smoke. “I always ran about with boys when I was growing up much to my parents” dismay. I could beat most of them too in our childhood duels. I am as strong as a man. Most often people mistake me for one, yet because I am a woman no fencing master will take me on as a student. Which makes me curious. How did you persuade someone to teach you?” Resting her back against a willow tree trunk she tilted her head back and blew a series of smoke circles into the air.
“My father is a master swordsman,” Lucinda said. “He taught me when I was younger, but I am not permitted to fight anymore. A pair of breasts is apparently incompatible with holding a sword.”
“That is a man’s thinking for you. Does he imagine you hold a sword hilt with your tits?” she added with a final puff.
Lucinda couldn’t help laughing, imagining that very image. She rested her fully laden basket against a separate tree trunk to take the weight off her back for a while. “He thinks my breasts make it impossible to pass as a man. I used to wear breeches and train alongside the men at the academy. I even fought in a Prize.”
“A Prize? That is impressive. Are those the breeches you wore? Should I wear breeches for our first lesson?”
“You presume I will agree to teach you.”
“You will,” she said tapping the side of the pipe and setting a dancing stream of tiny fiery specks escaping into the breeze. “I could meet you here.”
“You do not have a key.”
“And yet… here I am?” The cutpurse gave a lazy smile back. Clearly, she was not one to underestimate. The garden wall was a good seven feet high, made of brick and topped with metal spikes, so she had either scaled it or picked open the lock. Smoke no longer emanated from her pipe despite the mannish-looking woman taking several sucks on the stem. She then turned the pipe over and cleared the tobacco dregs. “No doubt there are many who might be interested to hear of a woman going about dressed as a man and hiding a sword...”
“Is that a threat?” Lucinda interjected.
“A mere observation.”
“If I did agree, and I am not saying I will, how would this arrangement be of benefit to me?”
“Firstly, we would both gain someone to fight with. You love to fight. I want to learn. I can also keep a secret if that concerns you. If I could not hold my tongue, I would have been long dead and gone.” Shrugging as if her own death meant nothing to her, she stared back at Lucinda. “You will also derive great benefit from helping me for I have connections. I am going places. I plan to be famous and rich and do exactly what I please. I do not want a man to look after me, but there are many drunkards and violent louts in the places I frequent, so it will pay me to improve my skill with a sword. As I see it, by taking me on as your pupil, we both gain something we desire.” She stashed the empty pipe in some hidden fold of her skirt and treated Lucinda to another wide insouciant grin. It all sounded reasonable until she reminded herself the woman was a thief and inherently untrustworthy, and yet, somehow, she found herself agreeing.
“Very well then. I shall teach you. It is true I need the practice, but I do not even know your name.”
“My real name is Mary Frith. My friends all call me Moll.”
“And I am Lucinda Evans. If you are to be my student, Moll, you must agree to my terms.”
