The Tournament Read Online Free PDF Page B

thought some more. ‘Because the average Englishman knows that it is better for all if all obey the law.’
    ‘Bess, if someone were to harm a hair on your head, your father would have that man’s head cut off and placed above Aldgate. Your safety is guaranteed by the violence at your father’s disposal. If you were to walk a street in the north, in a town where your identity as the king’s daughter was unknown, you would not be so safe.’
    ‘So what are you saying?’ I asked. ‘Might is right?’
    ‘That is exactly what I am saying, and it was why as a young man I made sure I learned some incapacitating fighting moves such as you witnessed last night. It is also why I am an advocate of proficiency with the bow. Now that I think of it, it might be wise to add some basic defensive techniques to your curriculum.’
    ‘You intend to teach me to fight ?’
    ‘ Mister Ascham!’ Mrs Ponsonby said indignantly from the seat beside me. She had been eavesdropping and not so subtly. ‘I must protest! A lady, much less a princess, needs no such skills. I pray that you will reconsider this rash idea.’
    ‘Thank you for your concern and for your prayers, Mrs Ponsonby, but I feel this could be a worthwhile lesson for—’
    ‘I might have to inform the king of this upon our return,’ Mrs Ponsonby interrupted.
    ‘Please do so,’ Mr Ascham replied reasonably. ‘I have always welcomed his views on my teaching methods. Until then, such decisions are mine, not yours, so I fear I must overrule you on this matter.’ He was always courteous with her, despite her breathtaking pomposity. I barely contained my smile.
    He turned to face me. ‘Bess, perhaps I have not adequately informed you of my ultimate intention in your education. I intend to make you formidable . By the time I am done with you, I would hope that if you were turned out of England in nothing but your petticoat, you would be able to live capably anywhere in Christendom.’
    I liked the sound of that education.
    At lunch the next day Mr Ascham began my new curriculum in personal defence with a question: ‘All right, Bess, what do you think is the first strategy you should employ in a fight?’
    I raised my fists. ‘This?’
    ‘No. Wrong. You should run. If you are not there to be hit, you cannot be hit.’
    My brow furrowed. ‘That sounds very cowardly. And not very English.’
    ‘The world is not very English. Be it a stupid tavern brawl or a naval battle, a scrap avoided is the best result for everyone concerned.’
    ‘But last night you did not avoid the scrap.’
    ‘Last night I had a responsibility that I could not run from, namely your safety. I had to end that confrontation as quickly as I could and then get us all out of there.’
    ‘So what if I cannot run?’
    ‘Then you do this.’ He held up his right hand, palm vertical with every finger extended forward—and then suddenly he thrust that hand toward my eyes. I flinched as his fingers gently jabbed my face, two of them touching my eyelids.
    Nearby, Mrs Ponsonby snorted in disgust. She glanced at her husband and he dutifully echoed the noise.
    Mr Ascham ignored them.
    ‘Given your age, Bess, most assailants will be larger and stronger than you, so you will need to use guile instead of muscle. Extend your fingers like so and poke him in the eyes. Blind him. Everyone’s eyes are vulnerable, even those of the biggest thugs. And not even thugs can fight without sight. But make sure you keep your fingers bent, otherwise you will injure them in the jabbing. Now try it.’
    I did so and was surprised at how easy it was to strike my teacher in the eyes with at least one finger or thumb.
    ‘Now,’ he said, ‘what do you do after you poke your opponent in the eye?’
    ‘Punch him in the throat. Like you did.’
    ‘No. Wrong. You run.’
    ‘ Again? ’
    ‘A scrap avoided is the best result for everyone concerned,’ he repeated like a mantra. ‘You are only trying to disable him long enough for