The Granchio Sidesword
- May 13
- 3 min read
This marine-themed Bolognese sidesword was designed for the study of Marozzo and Dal'Agochie. A willing and versatile sword, it feels light in the hand, yet remains present enough in the blade to deal devastating cuts.
The simple structure of the Bolognese guard lends itself to the striking hand-carved decoration, based on crab anatomy, and featuring organic texturing. An antiqued finish with partially-polished back highlights really brings out the fun theming of this elegant fencing tool.
Please see our pricing structure for an idea of what a similar sword would cost.
∴ Specs ∴
Total length: 100cm
Blade length: 86.5 from cross
Blade width at widest: 3.2cm
Ricasso width: 2.5cm
Grip length: 7.5cm
Grip and pommel: 12.5cm
Quillon span: 16cm
Weight: 866g
Point of Balance: 13.5cm from cross
Right-handed
Blunt edges & rounded tip
Fencing safe flex
∴ Notes ∴
The hand-forged and heat-treated guard and pommel are antiqued to a matte grey finish with selective polishing to bring out hand-carved features.
The vertical S-shaped crossguard features flat-section quillons, one of which sweeps upward to form a knucklebow. The terminals of both quillon and knucklebow flare out, and feature crab-claw carvings and organic texturing. The guard also features finger rings, a pronunced V-shaped quillon block, and two protruding bars to the front, which end in flat steel buttons.
The pommel is a subtle ovoid shape, with crustacean-inspired texturing. The oak grip is wrapped in a pattern of twisted steel wires, with Turk's Head knots to the top and bottom.
The broad blade features a deep central fuller to a third of its length, and a stepped ricasso.
∴ Gallery ∴
∴ A Scuttling Silence ∴
Not for the first time, you curse the fortune that brought you here. Here, to the crumbling arch of the Devil's Bridge, where the wind whips the fabric of your hood, and the stench of brackish water fills the air. Though it is past midnight, no lanterns burn. Respectable people pretend this place does not exist.
You used to number yourself amongst them, smiling beatifically when they called you "the finest swordsman in Venice". Sons of merchants, minor nobles and ambitious thieves - all came to your salle clutching velvet purses in soft, white hands, eager to learn the art of the blade.
They come to you still, though not at the salle. That was lost, along with your name. No, the curious and the desperate creep out at midnight to meet you here, by the muddy, brine-rimed banks, and gamble their luck against your skill. There is no honour in this game - no legality either - but it keeps you fed.
And the lagoon feeds too. By morning, the bodies are always gone.
Tonight's challenger is late. Somewhere beyond the mist, a cacophony of church bells tolls half past the hour. You think you hear footsteps, but it is only the soft knocking of water against stone embankments.
Then comes another sound. A clicking. A tapping. Quiet at first, then multiplying from beneath the bridge. You step closer to the edge and peer into the moonlit water below, where silver-grey carapaces glimmer beneath surface, horrid and beautiful to behold. The creatures crowd one another at the base of the arch, climbing over slick stone with frantic, clattering limbs.
The lagoon demands its tithe.
