I parried and resumed my retreat. I only had one trick remaining, and it saddened me that if it failed Amber would be deprived of its rightful liege.
It is somewhat more difficult to fence with a good left-hander than a good right-hander, and this worked against me also. But I had to experiment a bit. There was something I had to learn, even if it meant taking a chance.
I took a long step back, moving momentarily out of range, then leaned forward and attacked. It was a very calculated thing, and very fast.
One unexpected result, which I am certain was at least partly luck, was that I got through, even though I missed my target. For an instant, Grayswandir rode high off one of his parries and nicked his left ear. This slowed him slightly for a few moments, but not enough to matter. If anything, it served to strengthen his defense. I continued to press my attack, but there was simply no getting through then. It was only a small cut, but the blood ran down to his ear lobe and spattered off, a few drops at a time. It could even be distracting, if I permitted myself to do more than take note of it.
Then I did what I feared, but had to try. I left him a small opening, just for a moment, knowing that he would come right through it toward my heart.
He did, and I parried it at the last instant. I do not like to think about how close he came that time. Then I began to yield once more, giving ground, backing out of the grove. Parrying and retreating, I moved past the spot where Ganelon lay. I fell back another fifteen feet or so, fighting defensively, conservatively.
Then I gave Benedict another opening.
He drove in, as he had before, and I managed to stop him again. He pressed the attack even harder after that, pushing me back to the edge of the black road.
There, I stopped and held my ground, shifting my position to the spot I had chosen. I would have to hold him just a few moments longer, to set him up. . . .
They were very rough moments, but I fought furiously and readied myself.
Then I gave him the same opening again.
I knew he would come in the same as before, and my right leg was across and back behind my left, then straightening, as he did. I gave his blade but the barest beat to the side as I sprang backward onto the black road, immediately extending my arm full length to discourage a balaestra.
Then he did what I had hoped. He beat at my blade and advanced normally when I dropped it into quarte…
. . . causing him to step into the patch of black grasses over which I had leaped.
I dared not look down at first. I simply stood my ground and gave the flora a chance.
It only took a few moments. Benedict became aware of it the next time that he tried to move. I saw the puzzled expression flash across his face, then the strain. It had him, I knew.
I doubted, though, that it could hold him very long, so I moved immediately.
I danced to the right, out of range of his blade, rushed forward and sprang across the grasses, off the black road once again. He tried to turn, but they had twined themselves about his legs all the way up to his knees. He swayed for a moment, but retained his balance.
I passed behind him and to his right. One easy thrust and he was a dead man, but of course there was no reason to do it now.
He swung his arm back behind his neck and turned his head, pointing the blade at me. He began pulling his left leg free.
But I feinted toward his right, and when he moved to parry it I slapped him across the back of the neck with the flat of Grayswandir.
It stunned him, and I was able to move in and punch him in the kidney with my left hand. He bent slightly and I blocked his sword arm and struck him in the back of the neck again, this time with my fist, hard. He fell, unconscious, and I removed his blade from his hand and cast it aside. The blood from his left ear lobe trailed down his neck like some exotic earring.