The rolling clouds that benight the sky rain snowfall onto the college grounds. A soft rush of snowflakes are heard pattering the window accompanied by echoes of battering batons. The hearth’s fire flickers and crackles to the tune of each strike and blow until the burning dancer is nought but cinder that memorialized its regal glow.
“Oh dear, the fire’s out already?” said Raphael as he took of his steel meshed goggles. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the mahogany grandfather clock: Midnight. “So Jonathan, are you able to stay up a bit longer to continue our sparring? I would greatly appreciate it and my dedication to you would have no equal.”
“Raphael, you really are hopeless” sighed Jonathan. “We’ve been sparring all week and by no measure are you fit enough to be competitive under any ruleset of fencing, let alone go toe-to-toe with Francesco, and win.”
“It shouldn’t be too bad” pouted Raphael. “He’s as new to Mensur as I am. Besides, he’s only a foilist . How does that transfer to academic fencing?”
“Only a foilist!” exclaimed Jonathan. “I’ve never heard such arrant insolence! Especially from you, Raphael. Francesco is the grandchild of an Italian master. He was taught to use the blade as a second appendage before he could even walk, and do you truly think he was taught only how to use a foil? No, Franceso competes with foil, but he instructs the other teams when the captains are busy.” Jonathan looked into Raphael’s eyes and asked,“Why are you so adamant on playing Siegfried anyways?”
Raphael was taken aback by the question. Why does he want to play Siegfried so badly? He recalled the events that transpired over the past few weeks. In the beginning of January, in his second year, he heard from Katharina, during a rehearsal, that she was asked to play Brunhild in the theatrical rendition of the Nibelungelid by Thomas Smith: graduating senior and son of film producer Daniel Smith. At first he was excited for her, but then he realized that she would have to drop out of choir to focus on the production, and that she will leave after graduation. During casting, he decided to audition for Siegfried in order to have a role in the production. In his auditions, Raphael stumbled on his lines but Thomas kept him as a potential candidate for Siegfried; out of sick amusement or pity, he couldn’t tell. Eventually, the only people that were left was him and Francesco Bianchi.
To settle the dispute, Thomas said that it would be in the spirit of the production to have the leading role decided by a German game of Mensur. Both opponents will use sharp blades to slice each other in the face with the game only ending when the loser gave in like a traditional duel. Both agreed to the terms of the decision. Even though Raphael never fenced in his life, he decided that Franceso playing Siegried will not do. He’d rather die than give away such an honor.
Seeing that Raphael was trapped in pensive thought, Jonathan sighed and tapped him on the head with his baton, “Lift you arm, aim your stick down, protect your face, and let’s begin.”
The mens’ tweed suits were covered in blood that streaked the enclosed circle of students. Violent twanging and bashing of steel reverberated across the gymnasium which each echo becoming louder and louder as if the gods were an uproar demanding sacrifices of slaughter. Yet there was not battle, no valiant champions dueling for golden treasures or triumphant laurels, but an execution. With every infliction that Raphael intended, Francesco responded with a parry and greater riposte until Raphael’s face was covered by a vermillion veil. With each new cut the students shrieked half from ardor half from horror until another 30-second bout came to an end.
Despite the insistence from Jonathan and from Francesco himself, Raphael raised his mensur sword and fought on. The fight continued bout after bout until the blade of Raphael’s sword reflected the light of the setting sun, blinding Francesco long enough for Rapahel to leave a single incision on his cheek.
“Halt!” demanded Francesco and the two duelists lowered their weapons. “I now understand the futility in this exercise. I honorably concede my role as Siegried in the Nibelungenlied theater production. Congratulation Raphael.” Francesco shook Raphael’s hand and they both began to laugh.
In the infirmary, the school’s nurse attended Raphael and Francesco who were accompanied by Amelia and Jonathan. After quickly stitching Fransesco’s single cut, she began patching up Raphael.
“You know Raphael,” said Francesco, “if you told me that you only wanted the role to work alongside Katharina, I would have opted out of the fight before it even begun.”
“Well, aren’t you romantic” commended Amelia. “If I heard of this foolishness beforehand I would have done everything in my power to stop it.”
“And that is exactly why we didn’t tell you” Jonathan interjected.
“Thank you, but no, I wouldn’t say I’m romantic; superstitious is more apt of a term” responded Francesco. “Too many people die in love stories, and I don’t want to be caught in the crossfire. My people were founded because of a war over some woman, and we’ve waged wars because of another. Tragedy is in our blood, and I’ve grown weary of it. That’s all. Hell, even if I killed him he’ll find a way to fight on; and I’m not particularly keen on being haunted.”
“Wait, how do you know I’m in love with Katharina?” questioned Raphael.
“Look in a mirror Raphael!” exclaimed Francesco. “You don’t have the eyes of a liar and it shows. Yes, your look is a bit daft in the day to day, but when passion runs hot you’d have to be a fool or in denial to not notice it. Isn’t that right Jonathan?”
Raphael glanced at Jonathan to see a nod of agreement and looked back,“I see… Thank you for letting me know Francesco.”
“Good heavens, what happened to the two of you!” cried a voice from the infirmarcy’s entrance.
“Oh nothing much, Katharina” explained Jonathan. “ We were playing a game with a bit of roughhousing and there happened to be a bit of an accident. Raphael, the hero that he is, took the brunt of it. Isn’t that right Amelia?”
“Why yes of course! Boys will be boys you know. They’ll find ways to injure themselves in even the most simple of tasks.”
Katharina furrowed her brows and swept the room with a look of disbelief. After some affirmations and consolations to ease her worries, she eventually relented, “ Okay, if you say so… Just… please, don’t hurt yourselves. Raphael, let me know when you’re able to rehearse our lines. My fiance-”
“Fiance?!”
‘and family will be coming from Germany to visit opening night. So I would like to give the best performance we possibly can.”
After further consolations, Katharina said her goodbyes and left the infirmary. In her passing all that remained was arid dread where even silence dared not make a sound.
“So… What are we going to do with those new scars of yours?” asked the nurse. “I did the best I can, but the results will still make any mother weep. I suppose a nice helmet will do you well in the production at the very least.”