A Royal Mess by Tyne O’Connell Read Free Book Online

had always seemed to me like the chess club of sports. I wondered if they’d write me fan letters.
But Bell End brought me crashing back down to reality with a thud. ‘Yes, fan clubs. I’m not talking about girls like you, but mark my words, weak, gutless fencers get their families and friends to come to cheer them on in the hope of intimidating their opponents.’
‘Oh my God!’ I cried, suddenly envisioning Sarah running up and down the piste crying out, ‘Go Boojie! Go Boojie!’
‘And presumably you both have aspirations for the Nationals, and to make that you’ve got to place third at the very least. The very least. And let me pop another ofyour girlish little dream bubbles. All the competition you’ll be up against are going to be as good as, if not better than, you.’
I was a bit insulted by that little girlish-dream-bubble remark and almost blurted an objection, but Portia nudged me.
‘And make no mistake, it is in my interest as much as yours that you succeed in your goals to make it to the Nationals. When I take you up to Sheffield on Saturday, all the other masters will be looking at me, yes, me. They’ll be looking to see what I’ve done with you. How well I’ve whipped you into shape and trained you up. And I don’t want to be a laughingstock. Which is why I’ll be teaching you on a one-to-one every day on top of your regular classes.’
Thank you, Bell End, I mean Mr Wellend,’ I said quickly.
‘And I’ve got another surprise for you too, girlies.’
Something about the glint in his eye made me suspect it wasn’t going to be a nice surprise – like a finger sandwich, for example.
‘I’ll be using two sabres to fence you!’
‘Sir?’ Portia questioned.
‘One in each hand. Double the challenge, double the lesson. We can’t afford to waste time, Briggs. Now grab your weapon, you’re up first. Kelly, wire her up.’
I did as I was told, as Bell End grabbed another sabre off the wall of the salle and wired himself up. Then I sat onthe bench for what would be the most incredible lesson in sabre tactics I had ever witnessed.
Bell End was shorter than Portia, but with the two sabres in his hand he cut an imposing, if not terrifying, figure. Sort of like the Incredible Hulk with elegance. His gruff ways off the piste didn’t match the grace and speed he displayed thereon. He was lightning fast and had the supreme footwork of a dancer. As much as I love taking the piss out of poor old Bell End, I had to admit I was spellbound.
I watched Portia too as she was forced to fence on a different level than I’d seen her fence before. She advanced and retreated with such control that her torso didn’t even seem to be moving, and the speed of her sword and Bell End’s two weapons was so fast, I didn’t know what was going on. The buzzers and lights of the recording box just kept buzzing and flashing.
After their bout, Portia took her mask off and shook out her hair. Instead of her usual perfect hair-commercial coif, which I had always been so envious of, a spray of sweat such as I’d never seen shot out of her hair for a metre or more.
‘See what I mean, Briggs? You were forced to up your game. Well done. Now, Kelly, git up here. Briggs, wire her up.’
Having had the advantage of watching Portia, I knew what I was in for. With two blades coming at me simultaneously, I realised how lethal the combination of wristaction, speed and surprise can be. What really struck me, though, was the simplicity of Bell End’s actions. For the first time in my fencing life, I could see the vital importance of drawing my opponent with bluffs. Of course I’d bluffed before – it’s the nature of the game – but with two sabres coming at me I had to let go of preplanned strategies and trust my instinct.
I took a lot of hits, but I struck a few of my own as well, and when we took our masks off, Bell End did the most extraordinary thing. He bowed. Yes, he bowed at me, Calypso Kelly, and it was a low, graceful,