title: The Sword in the Age of Chivalry
author: Ewart Oakeshott
description: The resplendent image of the medieval knight is concentrated in the symbolism of his sword. The straight, two-edged, cross-hilted knightly sword of the European Middle Ages was an object of vital importance, a lethal weapon on the battlefield and a badge of chivalry in that complex social code. Ewart Oakeshott draws on his extensive research and expert eye (and hand, for he has a special sense for the feel of a sword) to develop a typology for and recount the history of the sword, from the knightly successors of the Viking weapon to the emergence of the Renaissance sword - that is, roughly from 1050 to 1550. Within this time-span, two distinct groups of swords successively evolved. Problems of dating are acute, and evidence is adduced from literature and art as well as from archaeology, for a sword (or some parts of a sword) could have been in use several generations after it first saw battle. To deal with such overlap, Ewart Oakeshott develops and refines a detailed typology of swords which takes in entire swords, pommel-forms, cross-guards, and the grip and scabbard. Extensive reference to specific weapons is accompanied on the page by line illustrations and a further 48 pages of photographs illustrate over a hundred splendid weapons or parts of weapons, accompanied by detailed captions.
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  A NOBLEMAN'S DESIRE
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  "You have insulted me in every possible way! You may take your honor, sir, and
  go to the devil."
  
  
  
  
  
  Ravensworth's brow was black with anger. He stood up to tower over her, and
  she shrank back to see the menace in his eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Let me go," she cried, her self-control almost at breaking point.
  
  
  
  
  
  Cruel fingers dug into her shoulders as he turned her to face him. "Do you
  care for me? Do you?" He shook her angrily. "Tell me, damn you!"
  
  
  
  
  
  Briony longed to deny it, but she could not. She gave him a stricken look and
  remained silent.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Oh Briony, Briony," he said with a harsh laugh, "how unfortunate for you that
  you are incapable of telling a lie."
  
  
  
  
  
  He took her face between his hands and drew her closer. Briony stilled in his
  grasp. Something in his coiled, pantherlike stance warned her that to resist
  would be fatal. She was conscious for the first time of the sheer power of him
  and it frightened  her. . .
  
  
  ![](images/00003.jp