The Draka Castra backsword
- Alicia Adams
- 2 days ago
- 3 min read
This bespoke backsword is modelled on the sword of Sir Francis Drake, which is housed onboard the HMS Drake at Devonport Naval Base. Its wielder had enjoyed handling our previous tribute to this sword, the Drakamor, and requested a version for a larger hand.
The sword is fine tuned to encorage a new approach to the fight in a seasoned fighter. As such, it features more presence in the blade than the wielder's previous sidesword, and a simple hilt that calls for a wider guard position and careful use of measure. A versatile companion, it is long enough to contend with both sideswords and rapiers, and easily dominates in the bind.
The simple Tudor-era hilt features flowing ribbon barwork, accented in this incarnation with a few elegant chisel outlines. The underside of the pommel features a subtle Maltese cross, as an attestation to the wielder's love of fencing with the Malta Historical Fencing Association.
The sword is named for this association, carrying on the Francis Drake-inspired naming convention of our Drakamor sword, but this time honouring the fortress we fence on in Malta with the moniker "dragon of the fort".
Please see our pricing structure for an idea of what a similar sword would cost.
∴ Specs ∴
Total length: 114cm
Blade length: 96cm from cross
Blade width at cross: 3.8cm
Grip length: 11.5cm
Grip and pommel: 17cm
Grip to guard: 4.5cm
Quillon span: 23cm
Weight: 1158g
Point of Balance: 16cm from cross
Right-handed
Blunt edges & rounded tip
Fencing safe flex
∴ Notes ∴
The hand-forged and heat-treated guard and semi-hollow pommel are blackened to a matte finish.
The guard consists of flowing ribbon barwork, featuring straight, flaring quillons and knucklebow with hand-chiselled outlining, and a large ring to the front. The pommel is a sphere, with a Maltese cross carved to the underside. The oak grip is finished with a steel wire wrap, featuring Turk's head knots to the top and bottom.
∴ Gallery ∴
∴ A Fight for Higher Ground ∴
Blades echo from embracing stone as you drive your opponent back, step by gruelling step. You have him on the defensive, forcing him back with each of your well-placed blows, but with a sudden sinking feeling your realise his retreat has been tactical: you have driven him to the foot of a broad staircase, and the only way is up.
Each step is wide enough for a horse yet cruelly shallow, climbing the fortress flank in a long pale ribbon. The sun hammers down the staggered line with all the force of a third blade. And above you now, your opponent holds the advantage.
Then you see it: not the end of the fight, but the shapes inside it.
The stairs narrow into angles: the wall to your right. The drop to your left. There is no room to dance around your opponent, and any step backwards would bring him down upon you.
And yet, there is another angle to consider: the broad taper of your backsword, a seafarer’s sword, built for these close geometries.
With renewed grit, you push all thought of yielding from your mind and step into the line, binding the opposing blade hard against the stone wall. It makes contact with a dull, punishing thud and a cloud of yellow-white dust.
From there each cut is a push, forcing your opponent upwards, his weight all wrong, his footing uncertain on the shallow steps. Your breath comes ragged now, but you can already envision the burst of blue sea at the top of the stairs.
Stone scrapes. Steel thunders. Salt runs down your face. Then the sun flares from the crest of the rise.
The higher ground belongs to he who dares take it, you think as you finish the job.
