David Gemmell – Rigante 3 – Ravenheart

Mulgrave was not only a master swordsman – he looked like a master swordsman, tall, lean, and with reflexes that could make a man believe in magic. His eyes were a pale, metallic blue, deep set and piercing, his features sharp, his mouth unsmiling. His hair, close cropped to his skull, was the silver of polished iron, despite the fact that he was not yet thirty years of age.

Selecting a slender rapier, the point capped by a small wooden ball, he bowed to the golden-haired young noble standing before him. His opponent pulled his face mask into place and took up his position.

‘Are you ready?’ asked the fifteen-year-old Gaise Macon.

‘Always,’ answered Mulgrave, donning his own mask of fine mesh.

The young man darted forward, his rapier lancing towards the chest guard of the older man. Mulgrave side-stepped, avoiding the thrust. Gaise stumbled. Mulgrave’s rapier struck the young man’s leg a stinging blow. ‘A nice idea, but poorly executed, my lord,’ said Mulgrave. Gaise did not reply. Nor did he react to the blow, save to assume once more the fighting stance. This pleased the master. Their blades touched, slid away, and the practice continued. The lad had fine balance and great speed of hand. Already he was more than a match for most men, with rapier or epee. His sabre work was not of a great standard, but then he was of slight build. Maturity would add muscle to his frame and strength to his arm, Mulgrave knew.

Towards the end of the session Mulgrave allowed the young noble to score a partial hit. He did not want the lad to become discouraged.

‘Enough!’ he said, offering a bow to his opponent. Gaise returned it, then swept the mask from his face, tossing it to the grass. His golden hair was sweat-streaked, his face red from his exertions – save for the star-shaped scar upon his cheekbone, which remained bone white. Mulgrave removed his face guard and placed it on the ground.

‘By the Sacrifice, you are not even warm, sir,’ said Gaise, with a sudden smile.

Mulgrave gave the young noble a warning look and the smile faded. Gaise unbuckled his quilted chest guard and glanced up at the house. A silver-haired figure, dressed all in black, was standing at the balcony rail looking down on them. Then he was gone.

The fencing master saw the look of sadness that came to the young man’s face. There was nothing Mulgrave could say or do. ‘You are moving well, my lord,’ he told the young man. ‘You almost had me in trouble twice.’

‘I think that he hates me,’ said Gaise.

Mulgrave took a deep, slow breath. ‘Your history teacher is due soon, sir. You should get out of those clothes and towel yourself down. This is the weather for chills to take hold.’

‘Aye, ’tis a chilly house,’ said Gaise Macon, sadly. Mulgrave wanted to throw his arm around the young man’s shoulder and say something to cheer him, but he guessed that the Moidart would be watching them from behind a curtain at one of the upper windows. It saddened Mulgrave to think that Gaise had every reason to believe his father disliked him. They rarely spoke, unless it was for the Moidart to criticize some aspect of the youth’s behaviour, and often Gaise carried bruises to his face or arms that Mulgrave guessed came from beatings suffered. The fencing master had been bodyguard to the Moidart as well as martial instructor to Gaise Macon for three years now, and in that time had seen much of the Moidart’s cruelty.

‘This afternoon we will try out the new pistols,’ he said. ‘They are beautifully balanced.’

‘I will look forward to it,’ answered Gaise.

How could the Moidart dislike the lad so, wondered Mulgrave? He is considerate and kind, deferential in all his dealings with his father, and has shown great dedication in learning the martial skills of riding, fencing and shooting. He looked into the youth’s odd-coloured eyes, one green, one tawny gold. ‘You did well, sir,’ he said. ‘I’m proud of you.’

‘That means a great deal to me,’ answered Gaise. ‘I shall go and change my clothes. Would you make my apologies to Mr Shaddler and tell him I will be with him presently?’