Fundamentals of the Bononese Sidesword

1587-12-24
Sala d’Armi, Bonona

Master Maros opened a heavy door and the sala filled with morning light and rows of polished blades. The air smelled of oil and chalk. At the center he drew an eight-pointed star, lines flaring like a compass. “These are your roads now,” he said. “Every step follows one of them.” I stood on the hub and felt the room widen.

He rebuilt my stance. No forward lean. Chest open. Shoulders loose. Back straight. The left hand floated near the heart as if over a string. Each cut began and returned to guard with the calm of a bow. He called it sprezzatura, the craft of making hard things look light. The star kept me honest: top point for a thrust, side points for slip and angle, the rear for a clean recover without losing height.

At first my feet tangled and my cuts dragged. Then the metronome inside found time. The compass lines set my measure and the blade started to lead. The hermit had taught force. Merryen showed development. Maros gave me grace. When the lesson ended my arms shook and my mind felt clear. Upright steps made the sword sing. I left the hall with the first notes of a new song in my hands.