The afternoon sunlight glinted on the steel of the rapiers.

"Riposte!" Will Trevallon called from the side of the tiltyard as the two fencers clashed before him. "Recover! Do not give ground, anticipate every move!"

Ardys heard her father's hoarse shout, but did not answer. She concentrated only on her fencing. She held her weapon in a firm, flexible grip, and moved the blade with remarkable speed to parry her opponent's thrust.

The gentleman who sought to break through her defense was able, but no match for her. He was younger, being but eighteen when she was almost twenty, and though he outweighed her, that gave him no advantage. The skill was hers.

Colorfully dressed in the current fashion, he wore pumpkin hose of red satin slashed with dark green flaring out from his hips like two cannon balls. His trunk hose was orange; covering thigh to toe as tightly as a second skin, and the velvet doublet-cape flung loosely across his shoulders and secured with a gold brooch was teal blue. Despite the splendor of his rainbow hues, he still seemed clumsy and inept when he faced the young woman.

The weapons in their hands were not blunted, but sharp and deadly. The girl's father, William Trevallon, Fencing Master to the court of Queen Elizabeth, did not allow that. Ardys had learned early of the blade's sting, and was not afraid.

Ardys cared not for the man's dress, nor did she waste a thought on his rank. Henry, Earl of Southampton, was merely another opponent to out-guess and out-maneuver. It did not matter that he was an intimate friend of Robert Devereux, the Earl of Essex.

She knew that Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, the Queen's greatest love, had died soon after the defeat of the Spanish Armada in 1588. His twenty-eight-year-old stepson, Essex, was now Elizabeth's favorite and her Master of Horse. Henry of Southampton was a loyal follower of Essex, but he had slow reflexes, and Ardys did not hesitate to take the offensive.

"Come, then, Henry! She'll have your head! Faster, ye gommerel!" one of the spectators yelled encouragingly to his friend. "Can ye not see she's fast?"

The hilts of the two rapiers scraped together as she lunged forward expertly, her weight on her right leg. Henry awkwardly deflected her blow by falling back, angling his sword across his chest, nearly losing his balance altogether.

"No, no - cease fencing!" Will commanded and stepped forward into the arena. The spectators, men always present in varying numbers at the public lessons of the Fencing Master, quieted, awaiting Will's instruction.

Drawing his own rapier, Will impatiently motioned Southampton aside. The master's weapon was long-bladed, boasting an intricately carved steel swept hilt in a triple braid design, the initials WT in script on the grip. Trevallon touched the tip of his daughter's blade with the point in formal salute.

"Keep your weight forward, gentlemen. How many times must I say it? Do not allow yourselves to be pushed off balance by your opponent's lunge. Back if you must, but maintain the stance. You cannot move freely otherwise. Observe."

Will and Ardys began to circle, intent on each other's faces. At the same instant they lunged. The blades rang together, but the sound was fleeting; they parted and clashed again. In the silence of the tiltyard the clang of steel was like a song, with its own melody and rhythm.

"Well, my girl, you've defeated yet another potential suitor," said Will under his breath as he parried her stabbing thrust.

"Suitor! Henry of Southampton?" She hissed in reply. "I need no suitor - and never one that prefers the beds of boys!"

"You need suitors, Ardys! You're all of twenty already - would ye be an old maid?"

"Ha! An old maid - like the Queen! Pay heed to your sword, Father, and leave my unmarried state be!" She bore down on him harder, forcing him to step back.

Ardys had fenced with her father for years. Will brought Ardys to the Queen's court in London when she was fifteen, to help him with his teaching.

While his was the greater experience now, her youth gave her the faster reactions. They were very nearly equals. He had taught her everything he knew, and had not spared her, treating her as roughly as he did his male students.

"Bear in mind," Will said, "the Spaniards do not arm themselves with blunted swords. No more do the French or the Scots. Nor will any enemy. For us, fencing is a sport, but the true objective in any form of combat is the death of the opponent. This is not a game to be taken lightly."

The Trevallons matched thrust for parry and never broke stride. Their finesse and agility were inspiring, but they were unaware that the majority of their masculine audience admired the graceful curve of Ardys's body more than her fencing technique.

Ardys invariably wore men's clothing to the tiltyard. She preferred simply-cut apparel of unembroidered black velvet: a doublet with tight, slashed sleeves, straight gray hose, and a close-fitting white shirt with a high collar. This was her uniform, the mark of her position as assistant to the Fencing Master. The title was unofficial, and she received no pay for her work as Will's other assistants did; but she knew she had earned the right to consider herself a step above them all.

The severe masculine clothes did nothing to disguise Ardys's figure.

Watching her, Henry's friend Hal Clipton remarked, "Still lusting after her, Henry? She's a fine one, she is."

"No more! I went after her once, in one of the gardens here as it was drawing to dusk. I gave her sweet words and smiles, but when I pulled her into my arms she gave me the knee! ‘Tis not a surprise I'd care to repeat. And that was five years ago, when her father first brought her to court . . ."

Her admirers kept their distance. Ardys had only two passions: fencing and learning. A better scholar than Will had ever been, she was proficient in history and languages, and had a rudimentary knowledge of mathematics and astronomy.

Will teased her, telling her she should marry and bear children, as befit a woman. Ridiculous, she laughed, reminding him that the Queen they served was a brilliant and powerful monarch who had lived long and ruled well without a husband. It was an argument they both enjoyed, and neither of them acknowledged the flaw in comparing any woman with Elizabeth Tudor. The Queen was above them all, set apart. She was not a normal woman.

If an unlucky opponent lost his concentration when the sun glinted red on Ardys's shining hair, or found himself contemplating the black depths of her eyes, so much the better. Ardys always pressed home an advantage, regardless of how it was gained.

Henry of Southampton remained standing with his fellow students and watched as Ardys parried Will's flawless thrust, feinting to her left.

"Jesu! Still, I would do battle with that wench in bed," Southampton said thickly.

"Aye," smirked one of his friends. "But you'd best keep your weapon sheathed in your codpiece or ye'll come to some hurt again."

Laughter rippled through the crowd, and when Will heard it he put up his sword abruptly.

"We've lost them, Father," Ardys smiled as she and Will bowed formally, signaling the end of the match.

"And do you know," she continued, a bit breathlessly, as they turned to walk across the yard, "I believe I could best you."

"Someday we must remember to fight for the instruction of my students, not for our own pleasure!" Will said with a smile. He put his arm around her shoulders companionably.

She wiped her shiny face with a soft towel handed to her by a servant boy.

Ardys noticed that her father's arm seemed somehow heavier, but she did not mention it. He was tired, that was all.

He was winded, too. "But do not forget that I am master here, not you, even if you do have a certain skill at fencing."

"A certain skill?" Ardys echoed and raised an eyebrow. "Well, fear not. None shall see that a mere woman can beat the grand master fencer."

At the edge of the ring Ardys handed her practice rapier to the weapons-keeper, a boy who received it with reverence. Will did not surrender his sword. He kept it always by his side. Trevallon had been given his rapier by the Queen, as a token of her favor, and he would use no other.

"Tomorrow afternoon, once again," he told the students. "There is much to be done before the celebrations. And for God's sake, do not spend all your energies in dancing and drink! That will affect your speed. Now go."

Southampton cast one last lascivious glance at Ardys as the men dispersed. She did not notice, and after she linked her arm through her father's, the Trevallons walked in comfortable silence toward the palace.