Edge of Tomorrow (80 page)

Hatch finally decided on a course of action.
Count di Cressi was probably a better swordsman, but he had a large
ego, and he would assume that Hatch knew nothing of fencing, other
than what he had seen in the movies. Before di Cressi could
discover otherwise, Hatch planned to quickly draw first blood, and
that would be the end of it. The count would be disgraced and
humiliated in front of his strutting friends, and the rest of the
attendees of the Royal Ball.

Hatch said to Rossini, “I’ll accept his
challenge on one condition: We do it here and now. I hate to
interrupt the Royal Ball, but I have no choice. Since the Prince is
the overseer of duels, you’ll have to go talk to him. The
alternative is, I’ll take the little fucker outside and beat him
within an inch of his life! He insulted Syd, and he is going to pay
for it
now
!”

Rossini replied, “This is unusual. We have a
dueling arena normally used for these things. Duels draw quite a
crowd and we like to contain things.”

Hatch spat, “Dueling arena? For
Christ’s sake! Why don’t you bring in some lions and Christians
and
really
draw a crowd!
Charge double!”

Rossini was taken aback. He replied,
“I’m sorry you do not like our customs,
Signore
Lincoln, but the first Prince of
Monterra, Alfonso I, adopted the French Code of Honor for his
people in 1861. This code outlines the rules under which gentlemen
and officers settle their differences. It has never been rescinded,
since all subsequent rulers have been steeped in the concept that
Honor is Paramount.”

Hatch grumbled, “I’ve seen the French Code of
Honor. The rest of the world abandoned it over a hundred years ago.
Very well, enough of philosophy. I assume this duel will end upon
the drawing of first blood?”

“That has been the norm. Let me go talk to
His Highness about this and see what he wants to do. You
understand, his word is final?”

“Of course. I’m a guest in his country,
otherwise that pompous ass would already be sawdust,” replied
Hatch.

• • •

The Prince wanted to talk to Hatch before he
made a decision. Hatch assured him that he did not want the Prince
to negate the duel. Also, noticing the multitude of press people
covering the Royal Ball, Hatch requested that no cameras be
allowed. He certainly did not need that kind of exposure. The
written word would be bad enough.

Finally, the Prince agreed that the duel
would take place immediately on the ballroom floor. His
announcement pleased the local Monterrans, and alternately shocked
and excited the dignitaries and celebrities from around the world.
Some of them thought it was part of the entertainment. Hatch felt
like he was the bull in a bullfight.

• • •

Captain Rossini agreed to be Hatch’s
second. One of the count’s smirking cousins acted as his second.
The count’s swords were offered to Hatch for his choice, but he
instead chose one of Rossini’s matched pair. The Rossini weapon was
perfectly balanced and had a bell guard, which Hatch preferred to
the fancy, twisted metal rods that adorned di Cressi’s weapons.
Rossini’s sword had much better point control because of the
exceptional balance. The combatants had removed their coats.
Hatch’s 19
^th
-century costume
included high boots, and he was happy that their soles did not slip
on the wooden dance floor. The Minister of Justice, Dante di Dorno,
was the referee for the duel, and he took his place in the center
of the dance floor.

Syd stood next to Hatch, clutching his left
arm. She whispered, “If this was about rifles, pistols, or
hand-to-hand, I wouldn’t be so friggin’ worried! You be careful! If
that fucker even nicks you, I’ll kill him, you know!”

“Don’t sweat it, dear. I have the advantage
at first. He thinks I know nothing about fencing.”

Hatch knew, also, if it came down to it, he
could easily kill the man by tying up his blade and punching him in
the temple, which would drive bone fragments into the brain. It
would not please the keepers of the honor chest, but it gave Hatch
a feeling of confidence knowing he could get out of this alive if
he just kept his head.

Dante di Dorno announced that the duelists
should take their positions, di Cressi on his left, and Hatch on
his right. He held a saber of his own, and was empowered to use it
on anyone who disobeyed his orders. In the name of honor, of
course.

Hatch kissed Syd and said, “Love you. Back in
a minute.”

Karen joined Syd and they held hands as Hatch
took his position on the floor and faced Count di Cressi. Bruno and
Sara were not far away. Hatch had told them that if they saw any
cameras or camcorders to confiscate them. Also, if anything
happened to him, to take care of Syd and Karen at all costs. The
Prince was sitting in a throne-like chair at the edge of the dance
floor.

If I ever needed confirmation of my feelings
about royalty, this is it! What in fuck have I gotten myself
into?

• • •

The referee said, “
En guarde! Allez!
”

Hatch did not go to the classical “on guard”
position used by fencers. He did not want to tip off his opponent
that he had had training in fencing. There was no rubber strip, and
no rules about containment, except the combatants had to stay on
the wooden dance floor. The referee would enforce that rule.

Hatch held his blade out and di Cressi
immediately engaged the blade and applied pressure to it,
simultaneously pushing down with a twisting motion. It was a
standard move whose purpose was to twist the sword from the
opponent’s hand, thus disarming him. In the
sport
of fencing, this merely embarrassed the
opponent, perhaps rattling him a bit, but served no purpose other
than delaying the fencing match. In this setting, however, being
disarmed could lead to more than embarrassment.

Hatch easily defended the move and retreated
a step, and tried to look as if he were surprised and confused. The
count closed the distance, then stood and walked to his right,
strutting a bit, as if he were toying with his prey. Hatch held his
ground, merely turning in place to keep the count in front of
him.

Suddenly, the count lunged and flicked
a cut at Hatch’s right side, blade low, trying to get under his
guard and hit the side. Hatch quickly used the
seconde
parry—point down, guard rolled to his
right—then began a
riposte
by
extending his arm and feinting an attack to the face. The count
took two quick retreating steps, blinked, and waved his blade in
two wide parries.

That was what Hatch wanted to know. When the
eyes are threatened, they involuntarily close. Fencers know this,
and cannot do much about it, but the key is not to expose the arm
in an attempt to parry the threat. The count failed that test.

The count responded immediately by
closing the distance with a
balestra
, followed by a lunge, and then
attempted a straight cut to Hatch’s head. Hatch started his retreat
as soon as he saw di Cressi’s front foot lift, and deftly used
the
quinte
parry—his blade
over his head and parallel to the floor—and again initiated a
quick
riposte
at the
underside of the count’s extended arm. The count flicked Hatch’s
blade away just in time, and again retreated.

The reality of the situation finally
descended on Hatch like a shroud. Most of the attacks he had
learned in training were of no use here. The sport of saber fencing
is one with many rules of
tempi
and the concept of
right-of-way
. The concept is that if a person is
attacked, he should parry and defend himself before
counterattacking; hence, the attacker has the “right-of-way” and
wins the touch even if his opponent hits first. This rule makes no
sense whatever in a real duel, since what have you won if you
strike your adversary while in the meantime his blade has entered
your left eye?

Another favorite in the sport is
the
fleche
attack, a move
where the fencer “takes” the blade of his opponent as he runs
forward, and then releases the blade and cuts the enemy across the
chest. This is also a
tempo
and “right-of-way” move that is very dangerous when using
real swords. Unfortunately, Hatch was very good at this move, but
would not dare use it here.

So Hatch had to quickly rethink what actions
were actually available to him, and what he was going to do. He
needed a ploy where he could draw blood—not his own—and end the
duel.

Accordingly, Hatch flicked a cut to the
inside of the count’s sword arm and was neatly parried as the count
went to a
quarte
position
with his sword, closing the inside line. Hatch noticed that the
count—being arrogant and over confident—did not immediately return
to the
tierce
position to
close off the outside line. This left the outside of his forearm
exposed for a fraction of a second. Hatch decided to make his move
while the count was still showing off.

Hatch went into the classic on guard
position and advanced quickly, again attacking the eyes. As the
count blinked, Hatch feinted an attack to the inside of the arm
again, and as the count went too wide with his
quarte
parry, Hatch dipped his blade and
disengaged it from the parry, then flicked a cut to the now
slightly exposed outer arm. His point and an inch of the
razor-sharp blade sliced open the count’s arm. Blood reddened his
white sleeve and dripped to the floor. Hatch retreated two steps,
holding his blade in the
tierce
guard position in case the count counterattacked him. There
was a rolling “Ooooh” from the crowd as they saw the
blood.

The referee stepped forward and said,
“Halt. Blood has been drawn,
signori
. Honor has been served.”

Count di Cressi was stunned! He could not
believe his clumsiness and that he had allowed himself to be cut.
He could not allow the duel to stop, or he would bring the wrath of
the Tessitores down on his head. He needed to finish this clod off
now!

Accordingly, he announced,
“
My
honor is
not
satisfied! I wish to
continue!”

The Minister of Justice said, “But, Count di
Cressi, blood has been drawn! Your arm needs attention! We always
…”

“Does not the code say I control the decision
as to when honor is served?” sneered di Cressi.

The Minister shrugged and answered, “Yes, but
…”

“Then we continue!”

Hatch saw that Count di Cressi was enraged,
and could not wait to attack him with ferocity and chop him up
good.

Hatch asked the referee, “What is the next
level after first blood?”

He knew very well what the answer was.

The Minister replied in an ominous voice, “To
the death, or until one party yields.”

This brought another low rumble from the
crowd, like thunder down a canyon.

The Minister turned and glanced at the
Prince, but the Prince did not move.

There was another murmur through the crowd as
they waited. The Minister looked at the Prince again, seeking
guidance, since the rules definitely allowed the insulted
party—officially di Cressi—to make such a demand. The Prince
considered stopping the duel for Hatch’s sake, but when he looked
at Hatch, Hatch merely shrugged. The Prince waved his hand for the
duel to continue.

The Minister announced, “The duel shall
continue.
En guarde!
Allez!
”

As the count approached Hatch, his
visage stern, Hatch retreated, then announced, “I yield,
signore
.”

Hatch had had enough of these Royal
games.

Count di Cressi straightened up, really
enraged now.

“You cannot yield! You are not even wounded!
You are a coward!”

“You’re the one bleeding, pal. I have
no desire to hurt you further. Do the rules say I have to be
wounded to yield,
Signore
di
Dorno?”

“Not explicitly, but implied,” he replied.
“It is as dishonorable as the ‘ninth parry.’”

The ‘ninth parry’ was the humorous name
applied to the act of continuously retreating—the equivalent of
running away from the fight.

“I have grown weary of this charade. This man
is a liar and worse, but I have no desire to kill a man because of
that,” said Hatch as he turned to leave the floor.

Count di Cressi could not contain himself!
This coward was thwarting him, delivering him to the mercy of the
Tessitores! He attacked Hatch with a vengeance, his blade extended,
intending to run him through, even though his back was turned. The
Minister had not officially called a halt to the duel.

Syd yelled, “Hatch! Look out!”

She was running onto the floor, trying to
reach di Cressi in time to knock him down—and put a spiked heel
through his eye!

Hatch spun around just in time and engaged di
Cressi’s blade and guided it to the side of his body. At the same
time, he lowered the tip of his own blade and the count impaled
himself on it, just below his breastbone. His momentum drove him
against Hatch and he was skewered all the way to the guard bell of
Hatch’s weapon.

Hatch looked into the count’s wide,
unbelieving eyes, and growled, “You have demonstrated how much
honor you have, asshole! I think it’s your turn to yield now. The
way I extract this blade can make a big difference in whether you
live or die. A little down pressure on the way out will slice you
open to your asshole, and your guts will decorate the Royal dance
floor. Then, all the King’s men and all the King’s horses … you
know.”