Chapter No. 20 Vestis ferrumī

And I will break the pride of your power; and I will make your heaven as iron, and your earth as brass:

"Ah, I see that you are punctual," Morton said as he watched Mara approach with a brisk gate that was not very feminine.  "I like that in my students."

She bowed. "I am at your bidding, sir."

Morton gestured to a tall thin man with sharp hawk-like features. He was dressed totally in black leather and held a sword in both hands. "This is Voltan. He will serve as your sparing partner."

She bowed to him and he nodded. He had dark eyes that showed no tacit emotion, but Mara sensed a subtle hint of amusement in his stoic face.

"There are two styles to sword fighting," Morton lectured. "The use of a shield, the most common method, and the double sword style, which is much more challenging."

He handed two swords to Mara. "These are not as broad as conventional battle swords, but they are stronger and more evenly balanced with larger pommels. They're more pointed to aid in the penetration of plate armor."

She slashed air with both at the same time, but her motions were forced and jerky.

"You have bettered your foes by brute force," Morton said. "But you will find that a more efficient approach yields better results, especially when faced with an experienced swordsman."
He pointed a sword at Voltan. "Voltan and I will demonstrate the basic defensive moves. Watch and learn."

Morton and Voltan faced each other at three feet and bowed. Voltan assumed a stance with both swords aimed out from his hips. Morton defended in the squatting position in which he held his swords up at a steep angle. Voltan swung up with one sword and then the other while Morton blocked.

"See how I set aside each blow and how I keep my body inside the sword's sphere of motion. I keep my arms close to my body. This requires more strength to counter an enemy's attack, but it's better than taking a blow to the underside of my arm or worse, an armpit. Note how I keep the motions of my blocks small, saving energy."

The sparing pace picked up but Mara concentrated on the techniques of the two men with an intensity that surprised Morton. He had expected that she would consider basic training a waste of time.

"You cannot use a half-sword thrust when using two swords because you must counter two attacks at the same time."

Voltan moved about, using his feet to move into better position. She noted that all the counter blocks were executed with the edges of the swords. This went on for some time.

When they stopped, she frowned.

"What's wrong?" Morton asked.

"I'm sorry. I thought that you would show me how to defeat the blocking."

Morton and Voltan exchanged glances. Morton walked over to her. "That's a more complicated process that requires much patience and perfect timing." He shook his head. "Before we begin that lesson, we must outfit you properly."

She gave him a quizzical look.

"Come," he said, gesturing. "You and I must pay a visit to Faul."

She followed him but kept a respectful distance behind. When they passed other men, Morton and Mara earned looks of curiosity. Morton offered some his greeting. Mara said or did nothing to attract more attention, but she received it nevertheless.

The armory was a noisy place. The clang of metal and the hiss of steam added a harsh sonic backdrop to the smoke and heat of the hearth. Three sweating men wearing heavy leather aprons beat sheets of metal on anvils. Some used large shears to cut out odd-shaped plates of steel according to patterns made of wood. Two young boys pumped bellows to maintain a large hearth furnace.

Faul was a squat man with Popeye forearms. Despite the fact that he had a bandana around his head, sweat covered his face, glistening in the glow of the fires. While working metal with a skill unequaled, he barked orders to the other men, often peppered with oaths and curses.

He glanced up at Morton and Mara. "What the hell do you want?" he asked in a raspy voice as he continued to hammer on a metal plate.

"I need harness for my new student."

He glanced briefly at Mara before glaring at Morton. "You want me to fit armor to a woman?"

"It should be an easy task for the best arms maker in the Empire."

"Get the hell out of here," Faul growled. "I've got better things to do than make a ceremonial suit of armor for a bitch." He glared at Mara. "Or is it a witch?"

Mara didn't react.

Morton frowned but was not deterred. "This isn't a ceremonial armor harness. I want the metal at least twice as thick as normal."

Faul quickly straighten up. "What? A suit like that would weigh two hundred fifty pounds. No man would last long wearing it."

Morton pointed at Mara. "She could."

Faul guffawed. "You've lost your good senses, man. She couldn't stand with that much weight on her."

Morton gave him a smug. "You're wrong."

"We'll see about that." Faul glared at Mara and pointed at a large anvil. "I need that anvil moved over here." He pointed to a spot twelve feet away.

Mara walked over to the anvil and picked it up. She carried it over to the spot and put it down, all with a minimum of strain.

Both Faul and Morton stared at her with awe struck eyes. The rest of the men stood with confused looks on their faces.

"By great Zeus, I swear I've never seen anything like that. She must be a witch."

Morton held his finger up. "Not a witch, but a gift from the gods."

"A gift?" Faul's eyes blazed with wonder.

"A weapon to strike back at those bastards that killed your wife and son."

Faul's face reddened. "You tread on dangerous ground, my friend. I do not care to have my loss used as incentive."

Morton waved his hand. "I meant no offense, but I want to determine this student's capabilities and I need her in armor to do that."

Faul wrinkled his brow. "Ok. Ok. But there's a problem."

"What problem?"

"I can't make her a suit without seeing her body."

Both Morton and Faul turned to Mara but they saw no reaction in her stoic face.

"Uh, Mara," Morton said to her, "would you object to Faul seeing and touching your body?"

She stared at Morton for several seconds. "If that is your wish."

He swallowed. "Yes. Yes, it is."

"Then, so be it," she said without emotion.

Morton smiled at Faul. "I would advise taking her somewhere more private than this."

Faul managed a sly smile. "Don't worry about that. I'm lucky to get any good work out of these bastards as it is."

Morton laughed. "Have fun."

Faul made a face at him. "Ha! You think this is easy work. You wouldn't last a day at it."

Morton waved a dismissive hand at him as he took his leave.

Faul looked at Mara with a dismayed expression. "We can do this in the back storage room. Come with me."

Mara followed Faul past men busy bending, pounding and heating metal. Their curious eyes followed her as she strode past them, but she kept her eyes forward.

When they arrived at a back room, Faul latched the door and motioned for Mara to move to the center of the room where a large wooden table stood.

"I have to ask you to undress," Faul said, sounding apologetic. "I need to measure you." He held up a fabric rule.

Mara eyed him with a sly grin on her lips. "You forgot to add bitch."

He held his hand up. "I'm sorry if I've offended you. This work does little for the social graces."

"You must not see your wife often," Mara said as she began to unlatch her shirt.

Faul bowed his head. "She was killed by the damn Empire." He looked up at her. "Along with my son."

"I'm sorry. I can understand your loss. I too lost my parents and brother to the Empire's treachery."

Faul tried not to stare at Mara's breasts, but he found it difficult to resist.

"You never saw a witch with breasts like these?" she said with a teasing lilt.

"I've never seen a witch before," he said, trying like hell not to blush.

Mara cracked a brief smile, but she resisted reacting with any prolonged emotion. She didn't care for having some old geezer touch her body, but if it was the price of admission . . .