These niceties escaped the boy in his earlier dreamings of the
dream--but the time came when he could name every pass, parry,
invitation, and riposte.

The strong man suddenly threw his sword-hand high and towards his left
shoulder, keeping his sword horizontal, and exposing the whole of his
right side.

Sir Seymour lunged hard for his ribs, beneath the right arm-pit and,
as the other's sword swooped down to catch his, twist it over, and
riposte, he feinted, cleared the descending sword, and thrust at the
throat. A swift ducking crouch let the sword pass over the strong
man's head, and only a powerful French circular parry saved the life
of Sir Seymour Stukeley.

As the boy realized later, he fought Italian in principle, and used
the best of French parries, ripostes, and tricks, upon occasion--and
his own perfected combination of the two schools made him, according
to Captain Delorme, the best fencer in the King's army. So at least
the Captain said to the other second, as they amicably chatted while
their friends sought to slay each other before their hard,
indifferent-seeming eyes.

To the boy their talk conveyed little--as yet.

The duellists stepped back as the "phrase" ended, and then Sir Seymour
gave an "invitation," holding his sword-arm wide to the right of his
body. Sir Matthew lunged, his sword was caught, carried out to the
left, and held there as Sir Seymour's blade slid inward along it. Just
in time, Sir Matthew's inward pressure carried Sir Seymour's sword