Sword & Saturday — Lucky Shot

My first entry into Sword & Saturday – more to come

The sword is a symbol. Throughout the ages, it has stood for truth and justice. The victor in a sword fight, whether a duel for his honor or the honor of a lady fair or a battle over a wrong done, is considered to be the one in the right—the innocent, not the guilty.

So one day I took upon myself the task of setting right a wrong, of deciding innocence versus guilt.

“This is ridiculous,” claimed Hiram as the assistant helped him dress in a fencing outfit. “You know I’m a beginner at this.”

He pushed his thick-rimmed glasses back up his nose.

“It’s a time-honored way to mete out justice,” I said, holding my fencing mask in my left hand and brandishing my épée in my right hand a couple of times, limbering my right arm. “Ready?”

“Look, this isn’t justice,” said Hiram, that spine-tingling whine in his voice as it always was when he was nervous or lying.

“Assume the first position,” ordered the fencing instruction overseeing this duel.

“I can’t!” yelled Hiram.

“Salute!” ordered the instructor.

I complied, and Hiram winced as I raised the blade straight out and then pulled it back and up, the hilt parallel to my lips. I brought the épée down slowly and donned my protective mask. The man helping Hiram put his mask on him and stepped back.

“En-garde!” said the instructor.

The duel began. I played with Hiram a little as he limply used his blade to block mine. I laughed and stepped up the pace, scoring hits on his arms and shoulders. Then I dropped my arm, the épée clutched tight in my hand, and turned my back on him, daring him to lunge at me. He did, and I swirled around, raising my blade for a deep thrust. Surprisingly, Hiram sidestepped my blow and drove his blade home. I collapsed on the gleaming hardwood floor in the fencing room, his blade still sticking up from my left ribs.

“Oh my gosh!” he gasped, kneeling beside me. “It was a mistake—I swear! I’m so sorry.”

“You have been judged innocent,” I said with my last breath.

“Hiram Quince?” asked the police officer entering the room.

Hiram stood and nodded.

“You’re under arrest for rape,” said the officer. He pulled Hiram’s arms behind him and cuffed them. “Lucky you just killed your victim. She can’t testify against you. But we still have plenty of witnesses. And we’re adding a charge of murder.”

The officer led Hiram out of the room, and the EMTs entered, taking away the body on the floor.