Scienza Cavalleresca (Chivalric Science)

The year is 1546. You and your fellow Condottieri from La Compagnia sit down at a local tavern for some food after a successful campaign against the Sforza family. You take a more than generous portion of shrimp and like a tiger devour your meal in one tempo.

But lo – across the table, a man at arms notices your gluttonous feasting, rises from his seat and says with a devilish grin “Sir, the ocean sends word - it has run out of shrimp and beckons you to return them to it.”

The tavern, however, erupts with laughter. Even the town drunk with no teeth is howling with glee at your expense. You are publicly humiliated.

You never liked the bastard. Nor did you take kindly to his slight at your honour. This was Italy in the Renaissance— honour and reputation are everything. More important than duty, more than family and certainly more than your life. Without honour, you were nothing.

This knowledge is baked into your bones, not only because of the stories and precepts that you grew up with, but also because it was part of your education. You have read De duello, vel De re militari in singulari certamine (On the Duel, or On Military Matters in Single Combat). Written by the Italian jurist Paride del Pozzo in 1471, De duello is one of the most comprehensive treatises on dueling laws and customs of Renaissance Italy. Indeed, even your fencing books reiterate such lessons, for sections of De duello were “borrowed” by Achille Marozzo in his seminal work Opera Nova in 1536.

These treatises, and your rage, guide your next steps. Standing, you pull a glove from your belt and throw it in your tormentor's face. Then, pulling your sword from its sheath, you demand a duel to regain your honour!

Of course, there were other ways to bring the challenge to bear. You could have sent your glove as a battle pledge to the bastard by messenger. Indeed, any piece of armour could serve, but a glove was most common. But the moment was hot, and so was your temper — whether or not he accepts the duel. You certainly would love to see him cower in apology.

But no. Sneering, he picks up the glove with a look of distaste. You are tempted to attack him here and now. But of course, you do not; it would be improper.

De Duello cites that under the chivalric laws of Emperor Otto and Frederick, both you and your opponent will be equally involved in selecting the judge, weapons, and location for the duel to maintain fairness and prevent undue advantage. If he were so foolish as to choose to fight on horseback, then you would oblige; both because of the rules of De Duello, and because the man had the horsemanship of a drunken teenage peasant after the feast of Pentecost. Indeed, if the fool were to stumble and put his eye out before the duel, you would wear a patch to ensure equal conditions.

Of course, regardless of what weapons you agreed to, you would also choose your best dagger and boot knife on the day. This was allowed in the code and did not need to be part of the discussions around the duel. Such small arms were expected; you were both gentlemen after all.

The change in tone among your peers after you offered the challenge satisfies you. There is still amusement, but none are laughing at you as they were before. You have shown that you are a real renaissance man who understands the value of honour.

Your friends hurry to have you sheath your sword before matters get out of hand. After a moment, your fury subsides and you accede to their admonitions. You sit down and the hum of conversation in the tavern intensifies. All around you there is discussion of what might happen on the day of the duel. There are many things to consider.

De Duello indicated that fighting with proper equipment was imperative. The treatise describes an example of a proposed duel between two knights. In this duel the knights only wanted to fight with swords and no armour. This was rejected as unsuitable for knights, who were expected to fight with appropriate military weapons and at least partial armour. Even in Renaissance Italy, following established safety standards was considered essential!

Once weapons and location were selected, you would probably have to wait up to was six-months. You and that loathsome cur would engage in some training, and look for a suitable judge and location to ensure a fair and honourable trial of arms. Only then could God reveal true justice. You were confident of your victory — only a churl would have been so uncouth to insult you as that imbecile had.

You and your companions argued about the location. Of course, it would need to be level and free from obstacles to ensure the fairness of the duel. Where would you construct the stand for the judges, so they could observe the event properly. And you’d want a judge of sufficient gravity. A good judge would remain silent throughout the duel, as noise could affect the outcome or suggest partiality to one duelist. And then there was the area of the duel itself, you’d have it marked with rope. Any participant who crossed that line automatically lost the duel.

Some months later, the day finally arrives. You had grown no fonder of the elderberry smelling swine in the intervening time, and you are pleased that he wasn’t an utter coward when you see him arrive at the designated spot. You wish to prove your honour!

As per De Duello, the duel commences with your attack, as you were the challenger. You and your friends discussed your first attack at length, for as any fencer knows, initiating an attack can place the attacker at a disadvantage, as it exposes them to defensive maneuvers such as parries, voids, or counterattacks by the opponent. It would be unthinkable that you might lose in such a way.

Of course, you do not tell your companions of the sleepless nights where you imagined such a thing as you tried to drift to sleep. But there was no choice; your honour was on the line. Though you have seen battle before, this was your first duel. You knew, even as you issued the challenge in the heat of that moment, months before - this was what was necessary to support your claim.

You are glad of your training. You are a better swordsman that you were months previously. You have exercised as a gentleman should. All to good effect. The duel would continue until a victor was determined. There would be no breaks. You have chosen to start with swords, but you knew it could end with both of you in the dirt, wrestling at the end of the day until one of you gave up.

Your duel, like most, would probably conclude with one of the following outcomes: one of you explicitly or implicitly conceded or withdrew; you were defeated through force of arms and unable to continue; or one of you fell in battle. Contrary to common belief, duels fought “to first blood” were regarded as lacking in honour and were typically viewed unfavorably. Merely scratching your opponent on the hand could not possibly remedy the insult hurled at you!

Determining a victor was not always clear cut (pun intended) – surprisingly even if someone dies. Because the function of the duel was to“reveal truth” and determine honour, how you fought made a material impact on the determination of who won the duel.

Engaging in dishonourable or cowardly conduct—such as employing unauthorized weapons, utilizing unapproved techniques, continually retreating or acting contrary to established rules—could result in a judge declaring you the loser.

Conversely, fighting honourably would receive praise. As discussed by Manciolino in his Opera Nova for example, the “most virtuous and noble” attacks are the ones that are “more dangerous and awkward to perform”. Fighting with valour would better your chances of a favourable result. In some extreme cases even if you were killed, if you fought with valour the duel could end in a draw (and your next of kin would have their honour restored).

You recall Marozzo recounted such a case where, despite one party being killed during the duel, the judge found no clear victor. The participant who died fought valiantly choosing death over dishonour, refusing to retract his statement even when facing death. He was praised by the judge for he died “as the ancient Romans did” for he “preferred to die with honour rather than live in shame”.

However, the other participant who survived could not be denied victory because ultimately, he defeated his opponent through strength of arms. The judge deferred the final decision to "the Princes of Arms and other knights, who, with greater discernment, might render a more accurate judgement." – in short, it was a draw subject to an appeal to a higher court.

With this knowledge you fight with sprezzatura and valour. You unsheath your sword and set yourself into Guardia Alta - you have no fear of your opponent and are ready to make your powerful first strike to start the duel.

He takes the same stance, the arrogant fool he is. Gripping your blade you deliver a mandritto toward his sword hand, ending in Sopra il bracio and turn your sword back to throw a reverso at the same target. You finish your assault with a rising montante back into Guardia Alta, sword held high. Despite your flurry of attacks he still remains alive and unscathed. Like the coward he is he backs away, almost to the boundary rope - this is a sign of disgrace. A true swordsman never retreats but only moves forward!

You point your blade forward and then drop the point downward, moving into Porta Di Ferro Larga, provoking a response from him. In a foolish manner your opponent delivers a thrust, which you easily parry with your false edge. He then throws a falso and then riverso at you. You beat hit his falso aside with your own and defend against the riverso by turning a mandritto to his left temple. His grin disappears as he falls to the ground dead.

Your valorous attack evokes a loud cheer from the crowd and the judges. You are the clear victor and have regained your honour. Now you can finally once again return to eating your shrimp in peace.

De Duello and the duel described above illustrates a society in which honour was paramount—victory was not solely determined by overcoming one's opponent, but also by fighting with valour. Treachery and deceit were condemned, while cowardice was regarded as a fate more severe than death.

Today, when we fence, we often focus solely on winning against our partners or opponents. This means making the quickest strike to the opponent before they hit us. The masters of old would look upon this with disdain. As historical fencers, we should remember to not only learn techniques but also how to embody the values of the masters before us. The next time you face an opponent, don’t just focus on how to win, but how you can fence with valour to bring honour to our most noble art – this is Scienza Cavalleresca. In this way we will be truly worthy of victory as the old masters intended.