Nathan Fox- Dangerous Times Read online

  Nathan snorted. ‘I can see that you have never been to a gypsy horse fair. Gypsies ride horses better than they can walk,’ and he vaulted into the saddle.

  Impressed, Pearce swung himself on to the back of the other horse. ‘I see I was not wrong in choosing you for this work.’

  Nathan grinned and the new partners made a stately progress towards London.

  Shoreditch was a good hour’s canter from the walls of the City. The authorities had decreed that playhouses be built away from the City, to avoid the risk of plague from large gatherings. And yet, thought Nathan, as their horses entered the City proper, there can be no greater risk than the sheer mass of humanity surrounding us now.

  The working day was underway. There were pedlars selling wares off their backs – ribbons, paste jewellery, gewgaws of all kinds. Carts vied for space on the muddy street with people, dogs and horses. Nathan was forced to drop behind as they picked their way among the throng. People were shouting at each other – some were trying to sell fruit and vegetables; others were just shouting abuse. So much noise! thought Nathan, and such a stink of unwashed bodies!

  Pearce turned his horse’s head southwards and Nathan followed. Soon the great wide expanse of the River Thames lay in front of them and, to the left, Nathan saw the forbidding citadel of the Tower of London. An involuntary shiver ran through him as he noticed the faint outlines of some rotting heads on pikes. Pearce followed his gaze and murmured, ‘Traitors,’ by way of explanation.

  ‘We’re almost there!’ called John, as the horses negotiated the narrow walkway of London Bridge.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Nathan asked, once the two horses were able to walk side by side again.

  ‘Master Robey’s School of Defence. There is none better.’ He slowed his horse to a halt outside a large mansion within the shadow of St Saviour’s Church. As they dismounted, a man appeared and took the horses’ reins. He had left the heavy oak door of the house ajar and Pearce led Nathan through the entrance, down a hallway and into a large room.

  Nathan’s mouth dropped open as he took in the sight before him. The ceiling was vaulted, like a church, with windows set up high that allowed pools of light to fall on to the floor below. The right-hand wall was lined with every conceivable weapon: swords, daggers, bucklers, staffs, pikes and other weapons he had never seen before. The left-hand wall was covered in a curious arrangement of wooden bars, beams and iron rings.

  ‘What is this place?’ he whispered. His voice seemed to echo around the vast space. Suddenly a man’s voice rang out from above.

  ‘Master Fox!’

  Nathan jerked his gaze upwards to see a figure, dressed entirely in black leather, standing on a gallery at the end of the room.

  ‘This, young master, is where you learn to defend yourself in ways that you never dreamed were possible.’ The man vaulted over the balustrade and plunged effortlessly, a full eighteen feet, to the floor below. When Nathan caught his breath again he realized that the man had, in fact, slid down a rope so fast that it appeared as though he had jumped. The man came towards them. He walks as silently as a cat, thought Nathan in awe.

  ‘I am Robey,’ said the man, holding out his hand.

  Nathan tentatively held his hand out and Robey grasped it. Nathan was aware that Robey was testing his hand for strength by applying a firm but not painful pressure. He responded. After examining Nathan’s other hand, Robey commanded him to shed his boots. Nathan did as he was told and stood in his stockinged feet while they too were examined. Nathan held his breath as Robey produced a dagger, but he merely slid its blade under the arches of each foot.

  ‘Good, high arches, good,’ he muttered. Then he placed the dagger flat on the floor. ‘Clasp your hands behind your back, boy, and pick up that dagger with your foot.’ Nathan looked puzzled for a moment, then smiled. He pointed one foot out like a dancer and with his big toe he nudged the hilt of the dagger towards him. It was an Italian stiletto, with a thin, straight hilt. He could easily curl his toes around it and lift it from the floor. But the blade was long and he needed to bring his knee almost level with his waist in order to raise the full length of it off the floor. This he did, without losing his balance or dropping the dagger. He stood motionless for a full fifteen seconds before Robey barked the command ‘Drop!’ Relieved, Nathan released the dagger.

  Robey broke into a huge grin and slapped the boy roughly on the shoulder. ‘Excellent! Excellent!’ he exclaimed, well pleased with his new pupil. Nathan felt honoured that he had passed this first test and he looked to Pearce for reassurance.

  He seemed satisfied too. ‘Then I may leave you to get on with your work, Master Robey,’ he said, backing away.

  ‘Oh no!’ said Robey sternly. ‘Sir Francis says that I have only what remains of this month before the boy is pressed into service. Therefore, John Pearce, you must take my place with my other students, so that I may concentrate on the task in hand.’

  ‘But I had plans, Master,’ Pearce moaned. ‘There is a young lady who expects my company today . . .’ His voice trailed off as Robey merely raised one disapproving eyebrow.

  ‘Orders from Sir Francis,’ Robey said firmly and Pearce’s shoulders dropped in resignation.

  Robey strode across to the corner of the room and flung open a door. ‘In here!’ he barked and two young men bounded in like eager puppies. Pearce groaned, ‘The Silver brothers!’

  ‘John Pearce!’ the two brothers chorused enthusiastically, then they leaped off in separate directions, each grabbing a sword and a dagger from the wall of weapons.

  ‘I favour the rapier and dagger today,’ said George Silver breezily.

  ‘The short sword and dagger for me,’ said the equally energetic Toby. The brothers stood expectantly, weapons in hand.

  ‘I’ll fight with two swords then,’ said Pearce, in a resigned voice, and he moved reluctantly to the wall to select weapons.

  ‘Gentlemen,’ said Robey, ‘if you will adjourn to the small hall, I shall teach in here.’ He ushered the three young men through the door and closed it – but not before Nathan heard delighted whoops from the two brothers and John Pearce exclaim in irritation, ‘NOT BEFORE I’M READY, YOU DOLTS!’

  Nathan’s grin was wiped off his face when Robey turned back to him and said quietly, ‘This is where you learn to kill another man or be killed yourself.’ Nathan grew cold as Robey circled him slowly. ‘I do not teach Sir Francis’s agents to fence like actors in the theatre. Nor do I teach them to fence in the elegant Spanish fashion, like young men do at court for the amusement of the ladies. I teach street fighting, in the Italian style, for they have perfected the dirtiest form of brawling in Christendom. Be aware, boy, that there are no rules here. I teach you to survive and you will do that by whatever means possible – with the sword, the dagger, your fists or a broken piece of glass. Do you understand?’

  Nathan nodded. He was unable to speak – his tongue seemed to have stuck itself to the roof of his mouth.

  Robey came up very close and spoke softly. ‘This work is a dirty business, and if you value your life you will walk out of here now and never come back. No one will think the worse of you.’

  Nathan looked at Robey intently and he noticed the deep scar over the man’s brow and cheekbone – a line that went almost to his ear. ‘I am afraid, sir,’ he confessed. ‘But I am no coward,’ he added defiantly.

  Robey held his gaze. ‘Fear is good. It sharpens the senses and musters the will. I promise you, lad, that when I have finished with you, you will be almost the equal of John Pearce in skill. Now . . .’ Robey turned on his heel and strode towards the weapons wall, ‘we have work to do . . . But first let me say this –’ Robey paused on his way to fetch a sword – ‘your most important weapons are your feet.’

  Nathan laughed ‘My feet, sir?’

  ‘Yes.’ Robey’s seriousness made the laugh die in Nathan’s throat
. ‘The best and quickest way to save your life is to run and run fast. Never go into a fight if you can avoid it.’

  Nathan was scornful. ‘To run away would be cowardly, sir.’

  ‘No. You would be alive to do your job – to maybe save other people. There are no cowards among clever men. There is no courage in fighting, or dying, needlessly.’

  Nathan did not respond. He understood the sense of what Robey was saying but his pride could not allow him to acknowledge that there might be situations where running away was the best option.

  Robey selected a rapier and walked back towards his pupil. ‘This weapon has many purposes,’ he said, holding it to one side to demonstrate. ‘It has two very sharp edges, or rather it should have. Many men do not look after their swords. These edges should be razor sharp, for their job is to slash your opponent and disable him. If you sever the muscle of his sword arm he can no longer fight.’ He saw Nathan wince. ‘Do you have the stomach for this work?’ he enquired seriously. ‘You cannot afford to hesitate if your life, or the life of another, is in danger.’

  Nathan shook his head. ‘My stomach is strong enough, master.’ He was lying but he felt confident that he could overcome his squeamishness.

  Robey strode towards the door of the small hall and flung it open. ‘Desist!’ he barked and the sound of clashing swords ceased. ‘I need assistance in here!’ The Silver brothers and John Pearce entered, flushed from their exertions, swords and daggers in hands.

  ‘Master George, step forward’ said Robey. The young man obeyed. ‘Nathan, watch and listen. Here –’ he laid the side of the rapier across the upper part of George Silver’s right arm – ‘is the first point of disablement. Cut deep across this muscle and your opponent will not be able to raise his sword to counter-attack. Here –’ he laid the rapier across Silver’s right thigh – ‘is the second point of disablement. Sever the muscle of the leg that he uses for balance – which is on the same side as his sword arm – and your opponent will not be able to lunge towards you with his sword. Here –’ he laid the rapier across Silver’s left thigh – ‘is the third point of disablement. Cut him on this leg and he will not be able to retreat from your sword. And here –’ he laid the rapier across Silver’s left upper arm – ‘is the fourth point of disablement. Cut him here and his left arm is useless. Obviously, if you are confronted by a left-handed sword fighter, the points of disablement are reversed. You go for the left upper arm first, then the left thigh, then the right thigh, then the right upper arm. Got that?’

  ‘Yes, Master Robey.’ Nathan hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. George Silver grinned as Robey lifted up his arms into a crucifix position and flicked his thighs to make him spread his legs apart. ‘Now I will show you the slow-death points of attack.’ He touched the rapier first on one side at the base of Silver’s neck and then the other. ‘Here and here,’ he continued, ‘are where the blood flows fastest through the veins of men. Cut him on either side of the neck and your opponent will gush blood so fast that he will drop to the ground unconscious within a very few seconds. Pierce him here –’ he indicated Silver’s armpits – ‘and he will let blood equally as fast and no doctor will be able to stem the flow. If you pierce him here – ’ and he indicated Silver’s groin – ‘he will also lose blood quickly and be unable to move his legs. Thank you, Master George. You may resume a normal stance now.’ George Silver sprang to attention and winked at Nathan. Robey continued. ‘The quick-death points are here,’ he said, pointing his rapier at Silver’s heart, ‘and here.’ He pointed at Silver’s abdomen, below his ribcage, ‘But you need not worry about those.’

  Nathan was puzzled. ‘Why not, sir?’

  Robey nodded towards the corner of the hall. ‘John, bring over King Philip of Spain.’ Pearce dragged a large man-shaped object across to Nathan. It swung from a wooden frame, like a man hanging from the gallows. ‘This,’ said Robey, waving the rapier in its direction, ‘is your enemy. It is covered in soft leather, which is similar in consistency to a man’s skin, and it is stuffed with rags, which is like the flesh and sinew beneath the skin. Now I want you to take this rapier and lunge it into King Philip’s breast with all your force.’ Nathan took the sword gingerly, took a deep breath and lunged at the stuffed man with a mighty yell. His first thrust bounced clean off the leather and slid to one side, so that his face and body smacked into the dummy and he dropped the sword. He felt his face becoming hot as the two Silver brothers sniggered.

  ‘Try again,’ said Robey calmly.

  Nathan picked up the sword, stepped back several places and lunged again, with all his force. This time the rapier penetrated, but try as he would he could not pull it out. He struggled to pull it from the hilt and was about to go in close and grasp the blade with his other hand when Robey yanked him back. ‘Think, Master Nathan! That blade is razor sharp. You will cut your hands to ribbons.’

  Nathan felt foolish but Robey patted his back.

  ‘You have done well, lad. None of your age could have done better. Those of us who fight for a living know that to pierce a man with the point of your rapier is a mistake. It takes great strength to pull a blade out of a man’s body and you cannot do it at arm’s length. The thrust is only employed if your opponent is down and you can finish him off with the point and put your foot on his chest to pull out the blade. Understand?’ Nathan nodded.

  ‘Now,’ said Robey, turning his attention to his older pupils, ‘Master Nathan will do wrist-strengthening exercises, while you brothers do agility training under the tutelage of Master Pearce.’ The brothers groaned and began to strip off their sword belts, leather jerkins, chainmail gloves and boots. Robey, meanwhile, put his rapier back and selected a longer, heavier sword. He then took a jagged piece of chalk and a leather string from a pouch on his belt. He proceeded to tie the chalk to the end of the sword, in line with the blade. ‘Come with me,’ he commanded, leading Nathan down to the wall underneath the gallery. ‘This is what you are going to do.’ He raised the chalk-ended rapier in front of him and, extending the full length of his arm, he drew a perfect number eight on the wall. ‘Now you will do this, without moving your arm – just the wrist – and when you have perfected it to my satisfaction, you will do the same with your other hand.’

  ‘But I am right-handed!’ protested Nathan.

  Robey smiled. ‘Not any more,’ he replied. ‘When you fight someone, boy, you’d better be able to do it with either hand, or your life will be snuffed out quicker than a candle at bedtime.’ And with that he turned back to the Silver brothers, who were scaling the curious wooden projections along the long wall. Nathan raised the heavy rapier and began his task.

  After five minutes, the muscles in Nathan’s arm and shoulder were so sore that he could barely hold the sword up, let alone make a perfect figure of eight on the wall. Robey’s voice in his ear startled him. ‘Switch to the other arm now, lad, before you seize up altogether.’ Gratefully, Nathan did as he was told, only to find that the wrist of his left hand would not obey him. Nevertheless, Robey seemed pleased.

  ‘Now,’ said Robey, grasping Nathan by the shoulders and vigorously massaging away his aches and pains, ‘I hear that you are a wondrous acrobat. So I ask you now to show this pair of fumblers what you are made of.’

  Nathan’s heart lifted and he gladly stripped off his boots, belt and jerkin. The Silver brothers were now down on the ground. Toby had fallen a third of the wall’s height and was busy rubbing his behind. Pearce smirked at his discomfort, then showed his obvious delight when Robey informed them that Nathan was to do some agility training.

  ‘Watch and learn,’ said Pearce, giving Toby Silver a good-natured cuff around the ear.

  All four men watched in respectful silence as Nathan climbed the wall with the speed and ease of a spider.

  ‘That boy has suckers like an ivy plant,’ said George in wonderment as Nathan reached the top of the wall. ‘Now get yoursel
f to a rope!’ called Robey, pointing to the ropes that were tied along a ceiling beam some four feet away from the wall. Nathan launched himself, like a cat, towards the nearest rope and clung at beam level, awaiting further instructions. ‘Up on to the beam and walk its length,’ came the next command. Nathan swung his legs over his head and up on to the beam. He then hoisted himself up, effortlessly, and stood erect. Nimbly he walked the length of the beam with perfect balance and stopped, looking down at them all.

  ‘He’s not troubled by heights then,’ murmured Toby enviously.

  ‘Now back on to the ropes!’ directed Robey. Nathan obliged. ‘Turn upside down and hang by your feet only!’ Grasping the rope between his thighs, Nathan arched his back and dropped down like a stone, holding his arms outstretched, to show that he was truly hanging on by his legs only. Only the week before he had performed a similar trick in the theatre.

  ‘God’s teeth!’ exclaimed Toby.

  ‘Come down now, lad,’ said Robey. ‘You have put us all to shame.’

  When Nathan reached the floor George, Toby and Pearce surrounded him and expressed their admiration. He was proud, flushed and happy and he could see that Robey was nodding at him in satisfaction.

  That night, after many more gruelling exercises, Nathan was plunged into a hot bath drawn by Robey’s servants, then thoroughly scrubbed and rubbed down with a foul-smelling liniment. When he was eating a bowlful of stew, he complained to Robey about the overpowering smell of the liniment.

  You’ll thank us in the morning,’ said Robey, smiling at Nathan’s discomfort. ‘Never go to bed with sore muscles, because you will be a cripple the next day. Always find some hot water to soak your bones in and rub yourself down afterwards – goose grease or lard will do.’

  Nathan gratefully sank into what felt like the softest bed ever and began to doze. Pearce jolted him out of his sleep by patting him on the shoulder. ‘I shall be gone for a few days,’ he said softly. ‘I have some apologies to make to a certain lady who will have waited in vain for me this evening.’ Pearce winked and left, taking the light of the candle with him.