Second Intention by Anthony Venner Page B

to ensure they are perfectly legal, but I could see from the uncertain look on Toby’s face that he hadn’t been expecting this, not yet at least.
    He wired up and Oliver did his test, bringing up a buzz and a green light for both weight and travel. Toby gave a snort and turned to fetch his second epee from his end of the piste as Oliver calmly took a yellow card from his blazer pocket and held it up.
    So, a yellow card warning before we had even begun. A second offence and Toby would get a red card, automatically gifting a point to me. Hardly the start anybody would wish for, although he didn ’t seem that bothered. Clearly he felt this fight was a foregone conclusion, having already beaten me once that day.
    His spare passed, fortunately for him, and we tested the guards and took to our on guard lines.
    It’s funny, but I felt completely different to earlier in the day. When I fought Toby in the pool I had been anxious, tight if you like, but now I felt relaxed and totally in control. Upsets can happen more easily when you are only fencing to five hits, but in a fifteen hitter real class tends to show through. Besides, I knew that the faulty weapon was really to blame for me losing two good hits earlier, and that wasn’t going to happen here. No, I was the one in control now. This was my fight.
    We saluted each other, then Oliver.
    ‘On guard,’ said Oliver. ‘Are you ready? Play.’
    The moment he said it Toby came forward, his point extending threateningly towards my upper arm. It was an aggressive move, intended to steal some ground and try and draw some sort of reaction. His whole body language made it clear that he wanted to rack up the first point of the bout.
    I stepped back as he did so, not wanting to commit to a parry or counter attack at this stage, but just trying to get a feel for his timing and distance.
    He came forward again, this time with two steps, and his point looked to be spearing straight for my shoulder. I could easily have tried to pick up his blade with a circular parry, but noticed the flicker of his left hand as he came in. It’s a feint, I realised. A second intention move. He’s trying to draw my parry so he can disengage and dip under my blade to make the hit.
    I simply held my point in line as he came at me, and he very obligingly planted his forearm straight onto it. It was one of the most effortless hits I have ever had to make, and it clearly looked like it to everybody watching.
    One light. My light.
    ‘ Halt,’ called out Oliver. ‘For the right, one. One nil.’
    We made our way back to our on guard lines, Toby quietly muttering a profanity within his mask.
    ‘On guard. Are you ready? Play.’
    This time it was my turn to go on the offensive. I had already managed to exploit one of his weaknesses, the movement of his left hand when making a feint, and now I wanted to see if the second would work.
    I took two steps forward, angling my point towards his mask, and, as expected, he lifted his hand. It was all the opening I needed, and I dipped the point down to hit him under his wrist. One light. My light again.
    ‘ Halt. For the right, two. Two nil.’
    Toby clearly wasn ’t impressed. We had been fencing for a total of about fifteen seconds and I was already two hits up. Worse than that, I had done it with very little effort, and to the people watching he was looking out of his depth. He cursed again, and stepped back to his on guard line, angrily swishing his blade about.
    I took the next three hits as well, with textbook attacks where my timing and distance were absolutely perfect. It was amazing, feeling so relaxed and in control. I just did the right thing without even having to think about it.
    Toby, on the other hand, was doing the complete opposite. He was getting really angry now, since this wasn’t how the fight, in his mind at least, was supposed to go. He shouted, he stamped, and he walloped the blade of his epee down onto the piste with a loud smack.
    Oliver