Discovering Defenses

Its a Friday night and I’m at my son’s karate school. There are only two students: my son and a young black-belt. The instructor and I talk while he leads the boys through their exercises. We reminisce about old TV shows we watched as kids, debating our favorite Catwoman, his is Julie Neumar, mine is Eartha Kitt. As the class ends, the discussion drifts from what inspired our imaginations as kids to what inspires us as martial artists. We identify some of those universal things that tie his eastern martial arts and my western swordsmanship. I show him a plate out of Fabris. The duelists are contorted in an uncomfortable position: bodies bent, arms bent up with elbows pointed to the sky, blade parallel to the ground.





He immediately sees the value in the guard. Its similar to one his own instructor taught him. He demonstrates, his body leaning back, arms crossed in a manner that protects the body but seems able to strike if someone were to punch or kick at him. It takes me a few moments before I see the similarities.

I’m impressed, not that he’s able to decipher the guard so quickly (especially in a martial form with which he’s unfamiliar), but because he immediately finds its practicality and applies it to his own technique. We step back and forth for a moment, demonstrating how the guard blocks away an attack and immediately strikes back.

Looking back, I found the exchange between the instructor and myself interesting because when I was first learning that technique, it didn’t immediately make any sense. I’d studied Italian swordsmanship for a couple of years, and had just been introduced to Fabris. A small study group consisting of a couple of people and myself were going through the manual, page by page, plate by plate. When we initially came across this plate, we were confused. The position just didn’t look right. Obviously, it had to have some value. Fabris had no small amount of prestige and influence. We had to assume that the plate had validity. There was the picture of an unusual guard with accompanying text. We just needed to decipher the puzzle.

We had a well-developed plan of attack. One fighter served as the aggressor, the person doomed to die in our experiment. That was our objective: kill the aggressor with Fabris’ instruction. The defender would strike the killing blow with the appropriate technique (I initially had that honor). One person was the director, a choreographer who, using clues from the plates and the texts, put us into our positions and guided our movements. The three of us became a cooperative troupe, each discovering the validity (or lack thereof) of each action from our unique perspective. We each communicated with each other, and shared what we learned through our own eyes of aggressor, defender, and director.

The first thing I did as defender was to go into position and sit there, like it was a passive guard. The contortion felt ludicrous. It wasn’t stable. There didn’t appear to be any more value in this guard as opposed to an upright guard. I didn’t feel particularly vulnerable, just uncomfortable. I couldn’t imagine that this was a position I’d want to maintain in a fight.

And that was just it...it wasn’t. The plates are snapshots that serve a particular purpose. In this case, the movement described on the plate is the position one would put oneself in shortly before one strikes. The text helped with that discovery:

“Begin forming this guard as you are still upright. As you see your opponent approaching, gradually lower your body and withdraw your sword; once your opponent is within the measures, he will find your body as low as possible and your sword as withdrawn as you can possibly keep it without taking it out of line.” (p. 38)

So we followed that advice. I started upright, in a second guard (knuckles upward, sword straight out at almost shoulder-height). As the aggressor stepped forward, I slowly pulled my body down, my body crouched, elbow up, sword forward, until my opponent was close enough for me to strike.

It still felt like something was lacking. Would my opponent advance slowly? Would I, slowly and deliberately, draw myself down and contort myself into position, and wait for a moment to strike? According to the text, once my opponent was in range, I would, “quickly unleash an attack to the inside in fourth.” It seemed possible, but seemed like a long way to go for the action. It felt contrived...like a bad self-defense class that would teach, “Okay, if I grab you just like this, then you do this...”

“What if they don’t grab me just like this?”

“Well, I have another technique for that...”

It didn’t seem right, that a fencing manual that has survived this long, that has been interpreted, shared, and copied for the last four-hundred years would be reduced to “If this, then that,” instructions. There should be movements that would be familiar to anyone who was learning to fight. We should be able to identify the value in the guard and the actions. Fabris was teaching students how to keep their lives in a time when young men armed with both sword and ego travelled together in the same social circles.

So we did it again, and looked for more clues in the text or the art. The director wondered why, “cuts are more easily parried from this guard” (a line from near the end of the description of the guard). The aggressor then changed her attack. As I coiled down, she moved forward as if she were delivering a cut downward to my head. We found that, if the timing was right, the attack was thwarted by my “withdrawn” blade and my head was out of the way of the attack. From there, I could deliver a killing retaliatory blow (precisely in fourth, with my arm crossed across my body, palm up...just like the text said I should).

It all came together when we decided to move at greater speed, delivering our attacks with more sincere intent. The aggressor rushed me, swinging her sword down to the top of my head.

I reacted appropriately, by yelling in fear and ducking. It seemed like the most rational reaction.

Look back at the plate. Imagine yourself in the position of the fighter presented in the artwork. Imagine someone swinging a sword down on your head. The subject there is ducking out of the way, voiding the body, parrying the downward-striking attack with the outstretched blade. From that position, it seems like the most natural action to stretch your arm forward, like a spring-driven trap, and thrust in fourth to kill your opponent.

It was like we’d just unlocked some arcane secret. We switched roles, over and over, so each of us in our little study group could see the action from their own perspective. Each of us agreed that, when done full speed, with intent, this technique seemed not just effective, but natural. One could even say it seemed like the most rational thing to do.

We could not have deciphered the value of the plate without several key elements. We each had to see the action from our own perspective. We each had to know the basics of how to fight...our guards, footwork and bladework. We had to trust the author and his material. We had to believe in its value.

The material was a puzzle...a crime scene that we had to enact ourselves, over and over. The text and plates gave us guidelines, like clues to the crime. We took the starting and stopping points, directions that moved us forward to the ultimate objective: the aggressor defeated, and the defender saved.

Once we discovered the technique to decipher the plate, we could apply it to the rest of our study. The plates do not exist in a vacuum. Their value is hidden if you try to take them alone, on their face. A plate, if taken alone, without sincere study in the company of the others in its manual, is meaningless. We were able to unlock the value of the plates by applying our knowledge of those universal truths in swordsmanship, those foundations of timing, distance and accuracy, and relying on our trust in the material, and utilizing our own passion and perseverance to uncover a seemingly-arcane technique.

Fabris was certainly not trying to obfuscate his material. But we, students of defense studying the text four-hundred years later, may have to approach the manual like we’re interpreting art. We can take it out and dissect it, applying it based on our perceptions and our experiences, comparing it against what we already know. We can debate a style’s value against other techniques we know. I imagine that’s how my son’s karate instructor thinks about it, when he sees an Italian swordfighting guard and immediately applies it to his own skills.

Text and images from Art of Dueling: Salvatore Fabris’ Rapier Fencing Treatise of 1606. Tommaso Leoni. Chivalry Bookshelf. 2005.

Short update about being hopeful

So, next month, I may know if I can fence again. I have some physical therapy ahead of me, I understand.

This is bugging me just a little, because I've been planning on buying a new sword and some new armor. I'll like to try out SCA cut-and-thrust fighting, and I've found another western martial arts group in the area.

So, for right now, I hope for the best.

Something else to look forward to: Castles and Crusades game this coming weekend.

From a trip to the museum this year

I went to the Philadelphia Museum of Art this autumn. I spent some time in the armory, and found that they had a copy of Agrippa's manual on display.

"MANUSCRIPT FOR A FIGHTING BOOK c. 1553 Brown Ink & pen, brown wash on paper. France or Italy. This is an incomplete manuscript of Camillo Agrippa's Tratto di Scientia d'Arme con un Dialgo di Filosofia (published in Rome 1553), one of the most influential printed Renaissance treatises on personal armed combat."

Good advice.

"The period of the rapier was, in good truth, the most quarrelsome period in history; the "point of honour" was carried to such an extreme point that men would fight to the death for almost any trivial reason, and sometimes even without any at all, but from pure light-heartedness, for the mere fun of the thing and for nothing else."

Alfred Hutton. The Sword and the Centuries.

"Do not upon Every tryfle make an Action of revenge, or of Defyance."

George Silver. Brief Instructions Upon My Paradoxes of Defence.

"For we all acknowledge that it is with the sword that Kingdoms are protected, Religions are defended, injuries are avenged and Nations achieve peace and happiness."

Salvator Fabris. As taken from Tommaso Leoni's translation, Art of Dueling.

Different definitions of victory

Does studying an historically accurate fighting style in the SCA mean that you have to abandon winning tournaments?

Alot of people I talk to have a misconception about me when it comes to SCA combat...that I don't care about whether or not I win or loose. That's not entirely true. The Don I study with put it into my head that when you're on the tournament field, you're there to do a job. Do the job, maintain honor, treat your opponent with respect. This is basic sportsmanship, and its the core of how I feel about competition.

That being said, I think I take a slightly different approach to SCA tournament fighting than other people. I go into competition with a few objectives:

1: Keep perspective. Have fun. This is the obvious one, don't you think? These are friends we're fighting. The best prize is being told you gave a good fight, and knowing that everyone acted with honor. If everyone walked out feeling good about the fight, then its a win.

2: Have an additional objective than simple victory. I participated in a tournament in which we were expected to display historical technique. The participants were concerned with how they displayed their technique, much more than they were concerned with whether they won or lost. The question wasn't so much, "What could I have done to won," as much as it was, "Did I do this right?"

3: Use each victory and defeat to help with the details. How is your timing or your distance? What details of the technique that you're using helped? Its helpful having someone you study with watching from the sidelines. Ask them what they saw. Discuss it with them. Use every defeat to hone the technique.

Although some of us practice historical swordsmanship as an art form, it is still a martial activity. The ultimate objective of the period masters is victory. In the SCA, we have the opportunity to take our time to practice every detail with intensity and passion. We aren't fettered by a seasonal tournament schedule; we can take time to grow in our technique, using every fight as a learning exercise.

My handout for Known World Rapier Academy class: Intro to Studying Historical Swordfighting

Introduction to Studying Historical Swordsmanship

My objective is to make studying historical sword-fighting accessible to everyone. Techniques from the period masters can be integrated into SCA rapier with a minimum of mutation. The purpose behind this class is to give you the tools so you can start studying historical technique.

Outside of the practice of sword-fighting, what are the advantages of studying the period masters?

1: Historical technique can be used as a tool for persona development and cultural research. Take the study of Italian and English masters for example. For example, George Silver wrote his manual as a response to the proliferation of Italian masters throughout London, and the popularity of rapier fighting. How does that impact you if your persona is from Elizabethan England?

2: The period masters have something to say about our martial culture. The manuals weren't written in a vacuum; they were written in response to specific needs of fighters of the time. Who were they written for? Were they written for a particular patron, or for the public? Who would have used this fighting style?

3: Studying historical sword-fighting helps preserve obscure arts and sciences that would die out, were it not for our practice. The recent renaissance (no pun intended) in western martial arts has created a need and interest in the publication of sword-fighting manuals. Western martial arts groups, as well as the SCA, are preserving these arts. We pass these techniques onto our students, and to the public via demos, scholas, academies, and other events.

How do we begin?

First, surround yourself with like-minded individuals. Find friends who share your interest. I can't stress the importance of having a supportive group that has your back. Excitement is infectious. Its important to have a circle of students to provide different opinions and outlooks on the text. In my opinion, you should have a minimum of three people, so two may practice the technique, and one can read the manual and offer opinions from the outside.

Second, choose a master you'd be interested in looking into. How to choose a manual or a particular master is beyond the scope of this class. Choosing what kind of manual, though, is based really on what you're interested in getting out of the manual. If you're interested specifically in using a rapier, as opposed to older forms or cutting-based forms, you may be interested more in Fabris or Capo Ferro, for example. If you're interested in a for that emphasizes the mechanical aspects of time and distance, consider a Spanish technique.

Once you decide on a manual, analyze it with your study group. Look into the historical context of the manual. Don't ignore the introduction to the manual; often, it will talk about the background of the master, who he's written for, and a little about the culture he's written in. Read as much of the manual as possible before practicing techniques from the manual. Don't just read the first paragraph, for example, and try the technique described. Most often, techniques in a single section of a manual build on other material described earlier. You'll understand more of what the master is trying to describe when you see techniques described earlier and later.

I should take a moment to say a few words about looking over the plates in the manual. Obviously, the plates are just snapshots, single moments in time. Mimicking the plates is not the same as learning the technique. Think of the plates as a guide to use along with the text. If you try to just recreate the stances and motions shown in the plates, then you're not really learning anything of the technique. Don't be afraid to play with what you see in the manual, though. If you see a plate that shows a final motion (such as a killing blow), don't be afraid to play with the motions that take you from guard position to the final plate.

What should we keep in mind when we practice?

Play. Don't be afraid to play. Don't be afraid to experiment. Have a great sense of humor about what you're doing. While you're trying something new, expect to loose a lot of bouts. You'll be learning new things about your stance, distance, timing, guards, etc. Get used to dealing with a new learning curve.

Like I'd said earlier, I find that working in groups of at least three works best. One person reads the manual, while the other two practice. The one observer serves the role as director. Rotate the roles among each other. Listen to each other, and share your observations.

Here are a few other tips:

Make sure that your study group stays focused. Its easy to drift off while studying a manual. There may be movements or terminology you may not be familiar with; resist the temptation to try to mutate the techniques in the manual to fit your personal style. The further away you take yourself from the intention of the master, the less effective the techniques you're trying to learn become.

That shouldn't keep you from playing with the techniques, though. There's a difference between playing with the form and drifting too far from the goal.

While reading through the manual, try to find the agenda that the master is trying to put forth. Most manuals follow a particular theme, technique, or even political agenda. If you're able to discover the “agenda,” then you have tool to help you get through roadblocks in the manual. For example, if you know that one particular master advocates attacks in single-time, then if you are at a roadblock in a particular part of a manual and it is ambiguous as to how an attack should be delivered, you'll at least know that it is likely that the attack should be delivered in single time. Its one more tool at your disposal to help you understand the manuals a little more deeply.

Consider your sword. Is the technique you're studying going to work with that weapon? Different masters advocate weapons of different styles or lengths. For example, Silver will not work with a long rapier, Capo Ferro will not work with a curved blade. I wouldn't use epees or foils for Italian rapier techniques (the techniques just don't work). Again, determining the correct weapon length for all different masters is beyond the scope of this class. In some cases, the master may assume you know the length or type of weapon to be used (that's where its helpful to know the historical context in which the manual was written). Others may specify the length by your height, the length of your lunge, etc.

Remember your fundamentals. Things like footwork, distance, accuracy, and timing are universal. Though some things may work differently, the basics of how to fight aren't necessarily going to change. Some masters may want slightly different stances, or recommend you move a particular way, but they won't likely be too different from what you first learned.

Drill. Stretch. Work out. I've found that reproducing some techniques straight from the plates is a little like yoga. There may not be a lot of impact, but its still a workout.

When you practice, practice with intent. The best way to determine if something works is to practice as if you are really fighting. For the longest time, I couldn't see any value in Capo Ferro's first guard. One day, we practiced cutting attacks against someone who is just first drawing his sword out of the scabbard. That was when we found its value. We could never really see how effective it was when doing slow-work., or just trying to reproduce moves from the plates and from other practitioners' pictures.

Practice everywhere. Take what you've learned into tournaments. Yeah, you may loose at first...a lot. But be okay with that. One way to stay encouraged is to look for different objectives when you enter tournaments. Instead of, “victory” as your ultimate objective, why not focus on insuring that your technique is as clean as possible. The more you perfect your style, the closer to victory you'll ultimately become. That may sound obvious, but you're likely to be moving out of a particular comfort zone. Its important to have something to hold onto, to help keep encouraged.

Question about the first guard in Fabris

Had our first question about how to approach some of the interpretations of the plates:

My partner asked:

ok, first question for you.

p. 35 (first paragraph) "in this manner your opponent will not be able to come in above your sword; and that part being the weakest, it should be the most strongly defended".....my question... why is this part the weakest.

I thought about it, and read over some of the manual:

Just looking at the formation of the sentence, "that part" seems to refer to the target area you'd be defending. If someone is attacking above your sword while you are in this guard, they're attacking the head, and possibly the arm (he mentions earlier the possibility of the arm being the target). Looking at the plates, where exactly is the forte really protecting? He mentions the guard helping protect the body more efficiently, too.

Check out page 25, where he talks about why to hold the sword extended: "If your opponent simply places his forte to your debole and goes for the attack, he will find it difficult to succeed by virtue of the small opening that is one of the properties of the manner of holding the sword." Also, check page 28, talking about posture: "If a person could make himself so small as to be able to cover his entire body with the forte of the sword, it would be ideal. But since this is not normally possible, you should at least make an effort to cover as much of it as you can, so you can enjoy more safety."

Does that make sense? I don't think he comes right out and says what the weak part is, but he's already said this is an effective guard against cuts, and it appears the primary cut someone would attempt would be from up to down, near the head or shoulder.

Universal truth at fencing practice

My partner and I started talking at practice last night about how to start with studying Fabris' manual. We went through a good part of the first section of the book, going over what we took away from each section, and discovering what common theme ran underneath everything.

There were a few things that weren't necessarily surprises to either of us: the importance of performing motions in a single tempo, the basics of measure, and patience.

Throughout the book, a common theme is that one does not perform an aggressive action until the stars are right. Don't be the aggressor at the risk of loosing tempo. Be wary of moving into measure with someone who is in a static guard, waiting for your move.

Be patient. Wait. Back up.

Chill out.

Be still.

...

So next week, we'll begin working on the plates. The first, of course, being the first position.

Fabris: trusting the source

"My advice is this: follow the book, and trust its contents blindly."

How many students ever want to hear that from an instructor? Haven't we all been taught to be critical thinkers, to test everything we read, everything we learn? Double check the sources. Consider the translator. Look back over the language. Confer with colleagues about potential other meanings.

But that runs counter to Leoni's advice in his introduction to The Art of Dueling. We're asked to trust the source. Consider Fabris' mastery. We're asked to invoke a type of papal infallibility when it comes to Fabris' teaching. He's the master, we are the students. If we want to know how to fight like Fabris wants us to, then trust Fabris.

To do this, we have to forget how to be 21st century students. We have to trust the source. For the sake of learning this technique, this style of fighting, then we have to work in a pure manner. Fully immerse ourselves in his technique, and trust his work implicitly.

So, for the sake of this technique, I'm willing to take the translator's advice and to trust the author completely. I think back to what I wrote yesterday, about wanting to put away old notions and start new.

On to the technique: Guards and measure.

My plan is to just jot down some notes on what I've read or practiced each day. I'd like to at least write out whatever I've taken away from the text that day.

The manual starts with the four guards, and the division of the sword. I'm familiar with the guards, but there are some strong reminders about the importance of the guards in technique. "It must be clear that nothing is done that does not proceed from the essence of one of these guards (emphasis mine)." There's a flexibility implied, because of the motion the hand goes through between guards. Motions may go from the transitional state between guards (what he calls "bastard" guards). Here, we're immediately hit with an important part of the foundation: your sword motions aren't going to be executed from static positions. Shortly, Fabris will describe the dangers of fighting in dui tempi.

The divisions of the sword are mentioned. He divides the sword into a defensive portion, nearer the hand (which he divides into two), and the debile (half closer to the tip) is divided into two portions, as well. Any fencing student is already familiar with the strong and the weak parts of the blade. Strong for defense, weak for attack.

When taking posture is discussed, it can't be discussed without discussing measure and tempo. The two measures, misura larga (where one may attack by moving a foot), and misura stretta (one may attack by just moving the body forward) are described.

Tomorrow, on "flinging the sword," and "on cuts."

Studying Fabris: Day 1

This past Pennsic, I was inspired by a few classes on Italian fencing master, Salvator Fabris. Some of the stuff I'd learned was familiar to me (thanks to the work I've done on Capo Ferro for the last couple of years), while others were totally alien to me. The postures take a little work for me, but that's the simplest thing to get over for me, probably.

I'm working together with a friend on Fabris' manual. We're using the Tomasso Leoni translation, Art of Dueling: Salvator Fabris' Rapier Fencing Treatise of 1606 (available through Chivalry Bookshelf). We're taking time from our local fencing practice to work on the manual every week. I'm using this blog to keep track of my own work (and I may publish my journal for review, after a while).

I've gone into the manual today, looking to take out something to help focus. Even the preface and introductions have helped in that regard. Regarding this translation, Maestro Sean Hayes says in the preface, "It allows us to reconsider previous interpretations..." That's exactly what I need out of this kind of study: I want to reconsider what I've learned up to now. I want my previous notions of Italian swordfighting shaken up.

And away we go.

I sent this letter to the East Kingdom League of Rapier Academies mailing list

Hi,

Here are my ideas, on how to start transition the League into a group encouraging historical swordsmanship.

I: Encourage members on how to focus their studies. Does the fighter want to study a particular master (such as Capo Ferro, Silver, or Di Grassi [not the show about Canadian high-school students])? Does the fighter want to study the swordfighting of a particular culture (like the English, Italians, Spanish or, maybe something more exotic or specific, like the Sea Dogs or the a military longsword style)? How about studying a particular time period, or clothing style, or mannerisms of a particular class of fighting, or a specific type of fighter (member of the London Masters, perhaps, or mercenary). How about studying other aspects of swordfighting culture, like dueling, or how masters made their livings in different places?

The idea here is to make the thought of transitioning into studying historical swordfighting less intimidating for those people who just don't have the interest into looking into manual work. There are plenty of ways of furthering the study of historical swordfighting than just studying manuals.

II: Encourage mentoring. If you've discovered something new and cool, then tell everyone . Use the Yahoo-group to spread information. Announce that you'd like to show off what you've learned at practice. We can use the League as a kind of storehouse for information. And pass it on to other members of the League. Post bibliographies, videos, pictures...whatever encourages and inspires further study and practice.

III: Demonstrate what you know. Show off at demonstrations. ENCOURAGE PRIZE-FIGHTS. Do prize-fights at demonstrations and big events. Invite local Barons and Baronesses to witness the displays. Encourage competitions with duels. Show off what you can do! demonstrate longsword vs. rapier! Demonstrate curved blades vs. some other stuff! Cut versus thrust! Italian vs. Spanish! Use our competitive natures to encourage inter-academy competition! This is high drama, people!

There are just a few thoughts that have been popping around in my mind since the weekend. More later.

Lorenzo Gorla. CSC. QHD. AOA. Silver Gauntlet (Iron Bog)
Bhakail Champion of Fence. Captain: LoRA.
Co-Founder: Hawkwood Academy of Arms
Scapegoat: Tadcaster Militia.

Teaching historical swordsmanship classes at an SCA event this weekend

I'm teaching 3 classes this upcoming weekend at the East Kingdom University in the Barony of Iron Bog:

Wards and Attacks for Italian Rapier

English Culture and Italian Fighting

Gentleman's Quarrel:Dueling Across Europe

Go to http://eastkingdom.org/event-detail.html?eid=1617 for more information on the event (such as directions, cost, etc.).

Historical Swordfighting Class

This Thursday, April 24, Don Justinian and I are teaching a class about what it helps to know to begin studying historical swordsmanship. It starts at 7:30PM, at J's house in Glassboro. For directions, e-mail me at mikewgoodman (at) gmail.com, or Justinian at justinian_t (at) verizon.net. Its a great class for people interested in starting to learn historical swordfighting.

Sunday Swordfighting Notes

Prologue

"The right tool for the right job."

When I started fencing in the SCA, I was confused. I'd done SCA rataan combat for a couple of years, which was nothing at all like any kinds of fighting I'd tried to study before (karate, boxing & wrestling). SCA fencing looked too much like strip-fencing, which I was an absolutely arcane mystery (what the hell is right-of-way, anyway?). Rataan combat was unique; my teachers were knowledgeable in SCA combat, and precious little of other fighting arts they studied bled in. Fencing, though, seemed to be an amalgamation of collegiate strip fencing and something that wanted to be historical reenactment. When I was taught to swing rataan, I was taught, by rote, how to execute a proper swing, or how to handle a heater-style shield, how to move my body in armor. It was all appropriate for our particular style of fighting, and although there may be stylistic differences from one teacher to another, the core always remained constant. With fencing, though, technique seemed fluid, depending upon the weapon and the teacher.

Some of my fencing instructors had strong backgrounds in foil, some epee, some sabre; they were practical, showing me how to hold a proper fencing-blade and throw precise attacks and tight parries. A few were students of historical sword-fighting, who had examples of stances and guards from 400 year-old plates. Some were fight choreographers, who modified showy stage-moves into a fighting technique. Every one of them told me, "this is the right way to do it."

It took me years to start to figure things out. My weapon wasn't anything like an olympic epee or foil, so trying to use it like one failed. I wasn't really using a rapier, so trying to treat my weapon like a rapier never worked. I had fun experimenting and fighting, but I got very little out of each fight. My learning curve was very shallow; I learned stronger technique from my friends, and I tried to pay attention to why I was hit where I was hit, and I drilled some of the basics (as well as I could), but things still seemed muddled.

A few years ago, I started learning from E.B. (SCA THL Justinian Timagens), and things clicked. We stripped my technique down to the bone. We eschewed other weapons forms like case-of-rapier and rapier-and-dagger, and concentrated on single rapier. We worked on foundations: distance, time, and measure. Since I could concentrate on the strictest foundations of fighting, my fighting improved. I saw myself improve. My attention was better. I saw openings in my opponents I hadn't seen before. I judged my distance and time better. I thought more clearly about how I fought, and why I fought the way I did.

Once I built a solid foundation, I could build myself as a better historical sword-fighter. I made a decision: concentrate on historical technique. I was a tough decision to put away my oval cross-section schlager and use something closer to a rapier. Hand and arm position had to change, I had to adjust my stance, re-learn elements of timing and distance to accommodate a slightly longer and heavier weapon. Parries were slightly different; movements to control a blade take precedence over beat-attacks. I was at step-one again.

If I wanted to do it, though, I had to make a commitment. No epees or foils, no plywood bucklers or cut-down foils to use as dagger blades. I'm certainly not making a commentary about other fighters who choose to fight with foils or the like; rather, I'm saying that if someone wants to do purely historical re-enactment, those tools don't work. I had to commit to using the right tool for the right job.

I don't recommend this for everyone. Its a style I enjoy playing with; my greatest joy when I'm using a sword comes when we discover how to properly execute a move described in a manual...that "a-ha!" moment when another student and I say, "they did it this way for this purpose!" Interpreting historical sword-fighting is, for me, an art...no different than other historians re-creating battles or trying to rebuild a medieval castle. I want to re-build what existed back then.

I'm no armchair-historian, who interprets battles without ever visiting a battlefield or meeting a soldier. I want to see how the weapon works. I do test-cuts when I can. I fight different people with different styles and philosophies, and talk about how the fight went. I fight with different weapons in different ways; I'm not afraid to experiment. If I couldn't experiment, there would be no fun, no room to grow, and ultimately, no point.

I'm moving into a era where I have to focus much more on scholarship. Neither my cardiologist nor my general physician think it is safe for me to participate in contact-sports, due to the volume of blood-thinners I'm taking (if I bleed internally, things can get very bad, very fast). So, with my coach's encouragement (thanks, Ed), I'm going to spend more time with the manuals open. I'll work with people interested in re-creating fights described in the manuals, movements described in the plates, and creating exhibitions for display and education. I'll still hold a sword, and I'll still work with other sword-fighters, but putting myself into competitive situations where I can get seriously hurt aren't options any longer (so, in terms of the SCA, no sidesword, no rataan, and precious little time in tournaments). Its a little disappointing to have some of what I'm doing limited by medical concerns, but I still get to participate in the hobby I genuinely love.

The purpose of this work is to chronicle my studies. Every week, I will write about whatever I've learned from the historical sword-fighting community. I will put down notes about how I teach, and I want to chronicle what I've learned. I want to be able to look back on my notes and see what kinds of progress I've made, or chart everything I need to correct. It can serve as an encouragement and a reminder.

Fencing practice after-action report

I had a fantastic fencing practice last night. I got a great deal out of two fights and an evening of discussion and looking through a manual. A good amount of the evening was devoted to working our way through a very small section of a Renaissance fencing manual (Duncan, Lissa...who was the author, again?). We took a close look at the way a particular maneuver was described, and tried different variations...the usual stuff you should be doing when working with the interpretation of a fencing manual. Very enjoyable.

I talked with a couple of people about how they fight, and it helped alot. Often, I don't completely see how some people execute some types of attacks, and I get stumped. I learned more about body movement and directions of attacks out of a small conversation.

The sitting and talking about how we fence helped me a great deal. This was exactly the night I needed to re-energize me to fence more.