Free Timestruck by Flora Speer Page A

and
think out a strategy. She was beginning to fear that if she didn’t
get back to New York soon, she’d never find the way.
    As she started for the orchard, she heard off
to her left the clash of metal on metal, followed by men shouting.
When she stopped to look in that direction, she saw sunlight
flashing on a bright object. And she saw an unmistakable blond
head.
    “Dominick!” Without a moment’s thought she
ran toward him, increasing her pace as men continued to shout.
    At one end of the main building was an open
area where the ground was hard-packed from many booted masculine
feet trampling it. There, a dozen or so men-at-arms stood in a
rough circle, leaving plenty of room for the two men in the middle,
who were fighting with broadswords. Both were stripped to trousers
and boots, and Gina could see the sweat glistening on Dominick’s
shoulders and chest. He was breathing hard. Gina completely
disregarded the other man; all she could see was Dominick and the
danger he faced.
    “Stop it!” Gina tried to force her way
through the ring of men, only to be caught by Harulf’s thick arm
around her waist.
    “No,” he said. “Do not attempt to stop
them.”
    “They’re going to kill each other!” she
cried.
    “Since they are well matched, that is most
unlikely,” Harulf responded with remarkable calm. “However, if you
should distract them, one or both may be injured.” He looked hard
at Gina before, as if explaining the obvious, he added, “You need
not fear for Dominick’s sake. They are only practicing, and each
man knows how to avoid harming the other. Didn’t you realize
that?”
    “Do you mean to say they get out there
regularly and whack at each other with those awful swords?”
    “Of course,” Harulf answered. “How else is a
man to stay in shape for fighting real battles?”
    “It’s just a game?”
    “Today it is,” Harulf said. “Tomorrow, or
next month, or next year, the king of the Franks may call upon
Dominick to provide battle-worthy troops. We must all be ready. It
is our duty.”
    “I understand,” she said, easing herself out
of Harulf’s grasp. He let her go readily enough, though he kept
such a watchful eye on her that she knew he’d grab her again if she
tried to reach Dominick. “It’s just that those swords look so
dangerous.”
    A cheer from the spectators caught Harulf’s
attention. Gina went up on tiptoe to see what was happening. She
didn’t know anything about fighting with broadswords, but after
watching the action for a few minutes she began to notice that
Dominick’s reach was longer than his opponents, and that he was
very agile. Dominick was able to bend and stretch, to lunge forward
or spin away on the ball of one foot, while the other man was
stamping his feet and missing every time he swung his heavy blade.
Then she heard Dominick talking to the man, giving him advice, and
she suddenly realized why those in the circle around Dominick were
paying such close attention to him.
    “It’s not a fight or a game!” she exclaimed.
“It’s a lesson.”
    “Dominick is the best teacher there is,”
Harulf responded, grinning at her. “He taught me most of what I
know about sword fighting.”
    “I wish I knew enough to be able to tell just
how brilliant he is.” She regarded Dominick with new respect,
seeing his physical toughness and the determined set of his mouth.
In a sudden onslaught of beautifully controlled muscular power that
even Gina could appreciate, Dominick drove his opponent back, and
back again, and finally to his knees, leaving no doubt about who
was the victor. Then Dominick took the defeated man’s hand and
clapped him on the shoulder and said something that left both of
them laughing. The other men-at-arms cheered their approval before
they broke up into smaller groups and began practicing with their
own broadswords.
    “As you see,” Harulf said to Gina, “we all
learn from such demonstrations.”
    “I do see,” Gina said. “Thank