My lord opened the attack after a few moments’ cautious circling, lunging swiftly and recovering, even as the Duke countered and delivered a lightning riposte en quinte . My lord parried gracefully in tierce, and chuckled softly to himself.

With parted lips and wide eyes, the girl on the couch watched each fresh lunge. A dozen times it seemed as though Carstares must be run through, but each time, by some miraculous means, he regained his opposition, and the Duke’s blade met steel.

Once, indeed, thrusting in quarte , Tracy’s point, aimed too high, flashed above the other’s guard and ripped the cambric shirt at the sleeve. My lord retired his foot nimbly, parried, and riposted with a straight thrust, wrist held high, before Tracy could recover his opposition. The blades clashed as forte met foible, and my lord lunged straight at his opponent’s breast.