Inspired by our Adagio sidesword, this elegant rapier features a swirling maelstrom of ribbonwork bars, ideal for added hand protection while sparring.
The balance was fine-tuned to our client's specifications, with inspiration drawn from some of the lightweight rapiers Chris handled at the Grand Master's Palace Armoury in Valletta.
Light and lively in the hand, it features a neutral-to-back-balance, helping the sword to turn quickly and easily. As such it is ideal for our client's competitive fencing, and will excel in void-centric rapier play.
The light weight is particularly impressive when the complexity of the hilt is taken into account. This is made up of flat ribbon bars, carefully hand-carved with linework to emphasise the motion of the piece.
It is this swirling, circular sense that inspired the sword's name. Please see our pricing structure for an idea of what a similar sword would cost.
∴ Specs ∴
Total length: 124cm
Blade length: 110cm
Blade width at base: 2.2cm
Blade stock: 8mm
Grip length: 8cm
Grip and pommel: 12.5cm
Grip to guard space: 5.5cm
Quillon span: 26cm
Weight: 1240g
Point of Balance: 11cm
Right-handed
Blunt edges
Rounded tip
Fencing flex
∴ Notes ∴
The hand-forged and heat-treated guard and pommel are blackened to an antique finish.
The guard is made up of flat ribbon barwork with hand-carved elements. It features flaring vertical-S-shaped quillons, which taper at the terminals, and a spiral-shaped foreguard.
The spherical pommel is hand-carved with swirling lines and grooves, like the crest of a wave.
The oak grip is wrapped in delicate strands of braided steel wire, offering great grip in the hand. It is finished to the top and bottom with Turk's head knots.
∴ Gallery ∴
∴ A Churning Feeling ∴
The rushing of the whirlpool drives out thought. From here on the gorse-dappled headland, the sound is deafening. Thousands of gallons of water churning around in high-speed circles, leaving a spiral of white foam on the surface like the spiralling guard of your sword.
That is why you practice here. Every day at high tide, when the sound is at its fiercest, you strap your sword to your side and journey up from your white-walled villa, past the rows of fisherman's cottages, and up the sandstone-cut steps to the headland. Alone with only the ocean roar, you can set your mind to a single task: drilling.
To cutting and parrying, stepping and lunging, growing steadily faster, stronger, more certain in your placement and time.
With the duel only a week away, you would be forgiven if your stomach churned as much as the maelstrom below. There are plenty who would call you a fool for going ahead with it. Even your second suggested a graceful withdrawal. But here on the headland, you cannot hear him.
You cannot hear anyone.
Only the rush and roll of the circling sea.