The Other Side
A Robert and Rosalyn Story, as Robert tells it

     Rosalyn was the sort of girl that people liked to mock. Perhaps it was because she took it all so easily. Not that she ever let anyone walk over her, but she handled people with ease. Usually. This made her a prominent figure in the gears of rumor, insult and ridicule.
     Personally, I never really understood it. I mean, I often was in similar situations and, to be sure, we both often offended people but that’s never cause to be cruel, is it? Just because we weren’t a bunch of cowards like the rest of the world…
     It was just after lunch when we met with Mitch. It was purely a chance meeting, really. I don’t know what might have happened earlier, but when he saw Rosalyn, a bitterly vicious expression came over him and he let out a dark string of words best left to the imagination. Had there been anyone of authority in the hall, Mitch would probably have been slapped with detention if not worse, but it was always Mitch’s luck not to get into official trouble.
     Any lesser man would have slinked away and let Rosalyn fend for herself, which I’m certain that she could, but I would not have been able to live with myself had I done that. “Honor above all else,” I mouthed to myself hastily as I let rage boil in me for a moment. I glanced at Rosalyn. She didn’t notice. She was completely dumbfounded. I decided to make the first move that came into my head. I stepped forward, ignoring the trembling I felt all through my body. Adrenaline, I suppose. Possibly it was fear, but I doubt it. “Would you care to repeat that, sir?” I said, hoping I didn’t sound as weak to Rosalyn and Mitch as I did to myself. I wished that, like so many other people I’d encountered, Mitch would back down as soon as someone confronted him. I knew I’d fail if this went any further, but also that I couldn’t back out now. I could never face Rosalyn if I did.
     Mitch replied rudely, “It’s none of your (expletive) business. I wasn’t talking to you, you—“ I knew exactly what he was going to call me, by the shape of his lips, and I would not allow it. I knew that there was one thing Rosalyn really despised and that was profanity. I continued with my defense, reverting back to the only thing I knew very well in cases like this—chivalry.
     “You, sir, have questioned a fair lady’s honor, and I shall defend her,” I said. I was surprised as the words came out. I certainly sounded a lot braver than I felt. I mean, I’d planned out exactly what to do in my daydreams, but never once had I imagined that I would actually be called upon to defend anyone’s honor. Honor was a very dead concept, really, despite my best efforts. Yet, now I felt better. I felt proud, more so than ever before. I decided to keep going. I took off my glove, threw it on the floor and said, “I demand satisfaction.” I was practically reciting from all the television and movies I’d seen.
     Mitch looked baffled. Then I realized that he probably had no clue what I’d just done, since he was the sort who watched television for the inappropriate language and movies for the sex and violence just because he thought it made him look older and stronger. “What the—“ he began, about to swear again.
     “A duel,” I said, feeling rather stupid having to explain myself. It almost never happened like that in the movies. “A challenge of honor. For the lady in question. Will you take the challenge, or shall you be named a coward henceforth? Naturally, choice of weapon is yours and you may have a second. I shall take you single-handedly.” Well, if that didn’t impress Rosalyn, nothing ever could. Also, I couldn’t think of anyone other than Rosalyn to be my second.
     “But, Robert,” Rosalyn said, her voice sweet and commanding.
     I turned to her, caught up in my knight-in-shining-armor role. “Yes, my lady?” I said.
     “I can’t let you do this. Either of you. You could get kicked out of everything, if not school itself! Both of you!” she protested.
     This wasn’t really like the Rosalyn I knew. Oh, of course she was always a little cautious, but she tended to egg people on in situations similar to this. Also, she reveled in the concept of people like Mitch getting into trouble. A terrible, suspicious feeling came over me, spurring a tiny, unnoticeable twinge of jealousy. “You mean you defend this scoundrel in some way, my lady?” I said, sugar coating the “my lady” in the hope that she’d say no.
     “Well, not exactly. I defend all who need it, but…” she said. She seemed to be searching for an excuse. “I was just expressing concern for you.”
     I felt a little relieved, but pushed forward. “Well, then,” I said. “I fail to see the problem here.”
     “But,” Rosalyn replied, “isn’t dueling illegal? I mean, like killing people and stuff over matters of honor and such? I thought they banned it long ago, didn’t they?”
     She probably had a point. Rosalyn was always more legally conscious than me. Still, I couldn’t let her stop me. Not now. I was in too deep. The words came out before I’d really thought them out. “Never fear. I’ll not kill him. This time. I promise, and my word is my bond,” I told her.
     “Then I’ll be your second,” she said suddenly. I was taken by surprise.
     “My lady, you cannot,” I said. To be aided by a girl? That would certainly be the end of my image. “You’re the one being defended.”
     “Well, I don’t see why I can’t be your second anyway,” she persisted.
     I smiled as I found an appealing excuse. “I could not let you get involved anymore than you are,” I told her. Then, before she could convince me to take a second, I turned to Mitch. I tried to sound as vicious as I could, and perhaps I overdid it. “Well, is my challenge accepted?” I asked.
     Mitch replied slowly, “I guess…”
     “Good,” said I. “Then you do have some honor. Tomorrow, at dawn. You may say where.”
     Rosalyn broke in cautiously. “Umm…” she said. “Dawn’s not good for me, and I really do have to be there, you know. How about sunset today?”
     I made my acknowledging bow that I used to show comprehension and smiled evilly. Yes, sunset was so much more dramatic than dawn, wasn’t it? Rosalyn was good at drama. “Sunset it is then,” I agreed. I turned back to Mitch and continued, “Sunset today, not dawn. And where would you like to face me? May I recommend the playground about two blocks from here? It’s an excellent fighting ground with many advantages even to an amateur.”
     Mitch shrugged. “Sure…” he began.
     “Then it is set. I shall see you tonight on the field of honor, then, sir,” I said quickly.
     Mitch nodded uncertainly. Rosalyn broke in again, this time saying, “I shall provide the weapons. We’ll use practice weapons so no one is hurt. I’ll explain the rules tonight. Do not worry; there will be a good choice. Something will appeal to you.” It took me a moment to realize that she was addressing Mitch.
     It also took me a moment to realize that Mitch was leaving. Eager to get the last word, I called to him, “And you’d better show, sir! If you do not, I shall find you soon enough!” Then I turned to Rosalyn. She didn’t seem too shaken or anything, although there was a little more color in her cheeks than usual. I never was very good at translating her chameleon tricks with her face, though. Just to be certain, I said, “My lady, you shall be avenged.”
     Rosalyn looked down for a moment. “Robert,” she accused, “you embarrassed me. All that ‘my lady’ stuff is a bit overboard isn’t it?” Perhaps it was, but it was how I got through life. I couldn’t stand reality, so I pretended it was something else.
     Still, a heavy flash of guilt ran through my body. I took her hand gently. “My deepest apologies, my lady,” I told her. I wanted to change the topic, but I couldn’t think of anything else at the moment. So I kept going. “I do trust that you will be there encourage me, however, will you not? And a token perhaps?”
     “Oh, of course,” Rosalyn said absent-mindedly, and took out her handkerchief that she’d made herself. Somehow, I’d expected that. It only got washed once in a while and she actually used the thing for anything. Yet, it looked clean this time. I took it and, like I’d seen and read about gentlemen doing, held it to my face romantically. “Here,” she went on. “To tie to your helmet, excepting that you shan’t have one. It’s the thought that counts, isn’t it?” Her eyes flashed for a split second.
     “I shall treasure it,” I said. “It shall be my inspiration in battle.” I stuffed it into my sleeve, finding myself lacking of any better place on my person. A handkerchief in your sleeve is not the most comfortable thing to wear, however. I would take it out as soon as she wasn’t looking.
     We’d walked a little distance in the direction of our next class when I realized something. “My glove!” I cried. “I left it on the ground.” I fought my way through the thinning crowd back to where I’d dropped it. I swooped down upon it, saying, “Mom’ll kill me if I lose it!” Then I darted back to catch up with Rosalyn. After that, I suppose I sort of forgot about Rosalyn for at least another class period.
     *     *     *
     I got home rather cheerfully. Something was nagging on me as I got off the bus, but I sort of ignored it as I walked home. Then I realized what I’d done in school when Mom asked me how my day had been. I didn’t think, I just replied, “Oh, I challenged Mitch to a duel at sunset.” Then it really hit me. And Mom, too.
     “What did you do?” she asked incredulously.
     “I—oh.” I dropped my backpack on the floor.
     “That’s what I thought you said. I think someone’s been reading too much fantasy.”
     “But, Mom, he insulted Rosalyn. He said some really bad things.” I almost clasped my mouth shut with my hand in an effort to stop myself from saying anymore. I’d said too much already.
     “Rosalyn? Who’s this again?” Mom asked interrogatively. I found myself wishing that I were facing the Spanish Inquisition instead of my own Mother. She always got whatever information she asked for and I could never figure it out. Words just spilled from my lips when I was around her.
     “You know Rosalyn. The girl I practice sword fighting with.”
     I couldn’t see Mom’s face, so I couldn’t figure out her expression, but I was sure I wouldn’t like it. “I knew it,” she said. “I knew there was something about you and her.”
     “Mom, there is nothing between us. She’s just a really good friend. I… think…” I replied defensively. Just then I realized that there might be. After all, what had taken over me in the hallway? “I mean,” I rambled on, more for my own information than for Mom’s, “she is nice, and I suppose she’s kinda pretty, if you think about it. But that is no reason to suspect—“
     “She’s very pretty, very talented and from what I hear just perfect. And you tell me there’s nothing between you,” Mother interjected.
     “Mom!”
     “I’ve seen you two fight. I know what I’m talking about. Now what do you want for supper. I’ve got some meat to use up. Do you want teriyaki, steak, or stir-fry?”
     “Teriyaki sounds good,” I replied thoughtlessly. “You mean you don’t object to the duel?”
     “Did I say that? I don’t know enough yet to say…” Mom prompted.
     “Ooohhh, Robert’s in trouble now,” my little sister, Erin, mocked, walking into the room.
     I turned on her. “I am not!” I protested.
     “Robert’s right. Now go be a good girl and get the mail,” said Mom calmly.
     “Mom, I did the right thing, didn’t I?” I asked, as Erin skipped off.
     “I don’t know,” she said over the clatter of pans. “Why don’t you start from the beginning and tell me just what happened. Where’s my good frying pan?”
     I pointed at the dishwasher and she nodded, opening it and retrieving the shiny cookware. Then I began to recount the day, starting at lunch. I say began, because I was interrupted at the point where I began to talk about Rosalyn’s reaction after the challenge.
     At that point, Erin came back in. “Why is everything always for Daddy?” she asked, frustrated. “I want mail for once!”
     “No, dear,” Mom said, “you don’t want Daddy’s mail. It’s just bills, and you don’t have enough money to pay them. Let Daddy take care of it.”
     “Fine, I won’t go on,” I said, getting up to leave.
     “Oh, no you don’t,” Mom said. “I want a full explanation of what’s going on tonight.” So I didn’t leave the kitchen yet. I figured out about when sunset was, gave some extra time, and tossed out an exact minute that I wanted to be at the park.

     As I hastily pulled on my favorite “fighting” outfit, Erin mocked me. “Robert and Rosalyn, sittin’ in a tree…” she chanted.
     “Knock it off,” I told her. “That’s no way to address the eldest.” I struggled with the laces at the collar of my shirt
     “Robert’s in looove!” she jeered, putting on her false dreamy face. “’Oh, she’s sooo pretty! Isn’t she just sooo perfect?’”
     “Mom!”
     “Erin, why don’t you leave Robert alone? He’s been nice to you today, hasn’t he?” Mom called.
     “No, he hasn’t!” Erin replied with a grin.
     “Yes, I have!” I said defensively.
     “No, you haven’t.”
     “Have too!”
     “Have not!”
     “Have too!”
     “Robert!” Mom shouted to me. “Stop arguing with your little sister.”
     “Yeah, stop arguing with me.”
     “But she started it!”
     “I don’t care. You stop it and be a real knight.”
     “Mom!” I cried. Erin just smiled.
     Angrily, I turned back to my bed where I’d laid out my stuff. I put the lace on my shirt through the final hole, and then took my belt. I turned back toward Erin as I messed with that. She laughed at me. I grabbed my practice sword off the bed swiftly and pointed it at her. “I’ve already challenged one person today. Do you want to be next?” I asked. Erin shrieked lightly and fled my room. I finished the preparations, tucking the handkerchief into my sword belt, and checked my clock. Still enough time to walk to the park.

     When I got to the park, Rosalyn was already there, practicing even though she wasn’t supposed to fight tonight. There seemed little that could keep her from play fighting, and that was what I looked forward to every day after school. When she noticed me she sheathed her blade (a wooden replica rapier of her own design) and greeted me eagerly. I took her hand and it felt nice and warm in mine. “My lady,” I addressed her, and she truly seemed worthy of the title. “I shall certainly be victorious,” I proclaimed to her. “I come prepared, my lady.
     She gave a silly expression—I supposed I had embarrassed her again, even though there was no one else around—and told me to get a blade, saying, “I’m not going to let you have all the fun. I want to practice.”
     “But that would not be fair to my opponent, if I were to practice first, would it?” I protested. I had to be fair, even to Mitch.
     She smiled. “Don’t worry, if he gets here,” she replied, “I can take you both at once. Just for fun.”
     “But then we shall both be worn out, and I more than him, my lady,” said I.
     Rosalyn shrugged. “It’ll make for a shorter fight then. And more even as well. Just go get the blade, all right?”
     I bowed and raced her to the picnic table where she had laid out our choice weapons—all wooden of course, although we both had metal stage weapons. She beat me to them and pulled from her bag a dark blue gown. “How’s this for ‘my lady’” she demanded, holding it up. I thought it was a bit overboard, but then I imagined it on her. It had long, flowing sleeves and an open, dramatic neckline. Even on its own, I could tell the dress was well cut to accentuate Rosalyn’s figure.
     “Nice,” I said for lack of anything more. Images were rushing unbidden through my head of Rosalyn in various elegant, archaic and, above all, revealing gowns. While they were beautiful and pleasant images, I knew I should have been thinking like that.
     “Yep. And the best bit is, I can just slip it on,” she continued happily and demonstrated, “pull out my shirt from under it,” more images rushed through my head, more vivid than the last, “and voila! I’m the perfect damsel in distress.” Damsel was a good word, I decided. Alluring could easily have been another, but I repressed that thought quickly. I couldn’t prove Mom right.
     “You’re going to practice in that?” I asked, hoping she would. It really did cut her a nice, slim figure.
     “Mm-hmm I can do anything in a dress,” she boasted, and donned her own cloak. “I’m ready. Let’s go.” We began a fervent fight. I had long before come to the conclusion that sword fighting is a great way to get to know someone, and Rosalyn had helped me come to that conclusion.
     Mitch interrupted our fight. “Well, this is just stupid,” he whined. I shot him my fiercest glare, as Rosalyn had once taught me to do. She had also once said that men are at their cutest when they glare, although not in direct reference to me. I hoped that she had noticed. Mitch gravely insulted Rosalyn’s dress (how could he? It made her look so...well, ideal) using what I supposed was the highest word in his vocabulary, and it wasn’t one I cared to repeat. “You two are such stupid nerds. Grow up,” he attacked, and cursed at us again, although I don’t suppose he even knew he was doing it.
     I threatened him with my sword, still glaring. “You shall insult my lady no more,” I vowed. An attack on Rosalyn hurt twice as much as one on me.
     Rosalyn joined my side. She said in a bitter voice, “Don’t insult the dress. And no more profanity. I don’t like it.
     “I am so out of here, nerds,” Mitch dismissed. He began to walk but I stopped him forcibly.
     Rosalyn relaxed. “Come, I must teach you the rules,” she commanded. I had no doubt of her ability. She had taught me once. “There aren’t too many, and we certainly can’t decide the outcome without them. We are playing by the same rules that Robert and I always practice with. It makes the fight very swift. Basically, if Robert makes a swing that would render your right arm useless with a real blade, then you may not use your right arm for the rest of the duel. Is that clear?” Mitch nodded. Who could but agree with Rosalyn? “The duel is won when someone is either at the other’s mercy—he can do nothing—or when a fatal move—were we using real blades—is made, such as a severe gut wound or a chopped off head. Is that clear?” Again, Mitch assented.
     “Now you may choose the weapons, sir,” I offered darkly. My eyes rested on the rapier—Rosalyn’s favorite. I could think of no better way to impress Rosalyn than with her favorite blade. Mitch must have noticed my look and picked it.
     “Then you’ll want this one,” Rosalyn suggested, giving Mitch the one she had been practicing with. “It’s built a little better than the other, and you’ll need any advantage you can get. And take my gloves. They’ll protect your hands, and you’ll need that.”
     I felt betrayed. I could never tell which was the better one up to that point and now—now Rosalyn was giving my enemy the better blade! “Rapiers it is then!” I exclaimed, masking my hurt. “I do hope you fence well. This won’t be the hacking and spinning in movies.” I grinned. Revenge on Mitch would be doubly sweet with Rosalyn watching.
     Rosalyn chose for herself my smallsword. “I’ll help you get used to the blade. This should only take about five minutes.” So Rosalyn gave Mitch, who paid little attention indeed, a crash course in stage fencing.
     I tied Rosalyn’s handkerchief to my sword. Rosalyn raced out of the way, retreating to a tower in the playground and I saluted Mitch. I turned to Rosalyn to give her my salute and called, “I fight for you, my lady, in the name of honor.”
     “And may you have victory, kind sir, in the name of honor.” My heart swelled in my chest as I gave her my salute. “En garde,” I challenged Mitch and the light from the sky faded further. We fought viciously, and Mitch showed no style. As he fled from my blade, he tripped and fell. I could easily have taken him then and there, but Rosalyn had once taught me “honor above all else” and I would not let her down. I extended a hand to help him up, and he spat profanity at me as he took my hand. He jerked me to the ground, and I was wholly unprepared for such a breech of honor. I found myself facing the ground closely, panting in surprise. Mitch jerked me around again before I could catch my breath and I found myself facing a barrage of poorly thrown, but angry, punches. I blocked and parried until I could work out what had happened. Then I came at him with my own punches. Dishonor, I suppose, merits dishonor in some cases.
     “Stop this! Stop this!” I head Rosalyn plead, and I felt her trying to physically pry us apart as he sought each others’ throats. “This isn’t how you’re supposed to fight! Have you two no honor?”
     That caught me. I would never have Rosalyn accuse me of being without honor. I paused for her, but in that moment Mitch tossed me onto the ground and reeled for a potent strike. I reacted just in time, but I could only block with my arm, which took the full blow rather than my head. It stung and I didn’t even want to imagine if Mitch had succeeded in striking my head. Rosalyn forcibly dragged him off me and began to struggle with him. I was stunned, rubbing my bruise, and was not able to help, though I knew I should have.
     “Honor!” Rosalyn screamed at Mitch between his swearing. “This is for honor, so act like it, for goodness’ sake! Honor!” He struck her on the shoulder. Oh, how I wanted vengeance for that! Rosalyn—such a noble lady so often—ignored the blow, scolding, “Remember the rules.”
     When she had quickly reviewed with Mitch the way gentlemen should fight, she turned to me. Her face was soft but tired. “Do you want to got on? I won’t hold it against you. Can you go on?” she pleaded. From her tone I could tell that she didn’t want me to continue the fight, but I wanted to rip out Mitch’s throat more than ever.
     But my arm really did hurt. I touched it and winced. “For you, my lady, I would do anything,” I said, ready to jump into action again.
     Rosalyn pulled Mitch to his feet and stood between us to mediate. She looked a little disappointed, but she understood. “All right, let’s try this again. This time let’s do it right.”
     “When will you two stupid nerds grow up?” Mitch sneered idiotically.
     Rosalyn, my champion and lady, retorted, “Never, I hope, if growing up means being like you.” She took another verbal beating gracefully and ran off to her tower again.
     Mitch and I retrieved our swords and dueled (mostly) correctly this time. I cornered Mitch and triumphantly shoved him against a tree, my blade under his chin, pressing the skin. He dropped his sword wordlessly. “Your word is your bind,” I cautioned. “Promise me that you will never insult my lady again. Promise me that you will at least try to be courteous henceforth.”
     “Why should I ------ do that?” he said. I don’t have to ------- promise you nothing,” Mitch taunted with more of his creative vocabulary.
     Rosalyn, who had appeared unnoticed behind me, said, “Yes you do. You lost the duel, and you’re at Robert’s mercy now. He may do as e pleases, but the classical rules, and you must do as he says.”
     “All I ask is that you try, and that you do not ever insult my lady again,” I reiterated. Mitch nodded assent. “Very well,” I continued, backing off. “You may go now.”
     Rosalyn packed up her weapons and gave me a paper flower. I slipped it into my belt and, when I looked up, Rosalyn was holding her duffel. I gently took it from her. “Why, thank you, kind sir and brave hero,” she smiled.
     “It is my duty, most fair lady,” I excused, imitating her exaggeration. We walked toward the edge of the playground, but suddenly stopped to face each other. “You have brought me honor this day,” I told her seriously.
     She looked down embarrassedly. “You know the umm, the uh, the dance... Would you—I mean...” she stuttered.
     I tried to pick up her meaning, and gave the first idea that slipped into my mind. “Would I escort you to the dance?” I suggested eagerly. I rather liked the concept, though it had just struck me. I took her hand, which once again felt so nice in mine. “Why, I would be delighted to have such and honor. Surely, I do not deserve so fair a lady, and yet I would ask one more favor in return for defending your honor.”
     “Name it, kind sir,” Rosalyn said softly.
     “I would be honored if you would allow me to guard you against the perils of the night upon you journey to your castle,” I smiled hopefully.
     To my great comfort, she replied, “The honor would be mine, o bravest of knights in shining armor.”

copyright 2001, Angela Cox