84. On the Fence
Amy has been to a few renaissance fairs in her day and thinks she can handle a Society for Creative Anachronisms nerd like this guy.
“Hail and well met, good sir!” she says, walking a few steps into the corridor, then dropping into a curtsy. “Would a kind gentleman such as yourself be able to make an exception to allow a poor, lost damsel past?”
The man smiles slightly and sheathes his sword. “Would that I could, fair maiden, but alas, my sworn duty to the lord of this manor requires me to guard this hallway from any encroachment.”
“Is there no way that I could gain safe passage through this corridor?”
“I fear the only way for you to pass would be to best me in a duel, fair lady.”
This isn’t going as Amy hoped it would. She scrambles to think of how to take the conversation in a direction that won’t result in her immediately being stabbed to death. “Then a duel it must be, gentle sir. But I fear that you have me at a disadvantage. For you see, I am unarmed,” here Amy holds out her empty hands to show the truth of her statement, “and you, sir, have a fine fencing foil.”
“‘Tis true, I would be no sort of gentleman if I ran you through unarmed, but I can’t simply allow you to pass just because you’ve no weapon.” The swordsman looks around, then runs to the left wall. Amy thinks she might run past him, but before she can move he’s back with a second sword. He tosses it hilt-first at Amy and Amy, despite her generally poor hand-eye coordination, manages to catch it.
“Very well, then, have at you!” shouts the swordsman.
Amy adopts a stance that sort of mirrors that of her opponent. He moves in slowly and thrusts at her. Amy flails her sword at the swordsman’s and barely manages to deflect the attack. Before she can recover he is readying another thrust. Amy manages, again, to deflect this blow, but finds her position only worsening as the two circle one another. A third thrust of the fencer’s sword yields a small nick on Amy’s forearm. Amy can tell, however, that this light wound was intentional; if he had wanted, the swordsman could have carved out her heart with that last blow.
Amy now realizes that the swordsman is going easy on her. But for how long can this last, and what will happen when the fencer gets bored? How can Amy change this game to one she can win? She takes her eyes off the swordsman for a moment to look around her; she’s backed up against the wall next to a suit of armor holding a large polearm, similar to the ones held by the suits at the gallery’s entrance. Perhaps she could take that and do something useful with it? She could also try talking some more; maybe she could still convince him to let her go…
What should Amy do?