Medieval Sword Fighting for Dummies

Hear ye Hear ye! Noble scribes Maisie and Hannah engage in a valiant duel of yore 

Beat down by deadlines, two weeks’ worth of rain and just general post-grad slums, I needed competitive quest. So, I decide to return to more traditional roots. A place where there was no StudyLink fuckery and the only points of frustration were bad harvest, plague and the possibility of your bae being a witch.   

So, I challenge my foe, classmate, and fellow Massive writer, Hannah, to a duel to the death.  

On a winter Monday evening, we drive to the Ruckus Aromored Combat Guild in Wellington. They teach medieval duelling called ‘Buhurt’, showing people how to bash the shit out of each other wearing 60kg armour.   

Buhurt is a form of medieval contact sword fighting that was coined by NZ Buhurt as “MMA fighting with swords”. The sport originated in the 13th century in France as an aid to entertain restless knights. The weapons were dull to avoid seriously injuring the knights before battle. Buhurt can be performed in battles of between two to 150 people. 

Buhurt has three main guilds in Tauranga, Wellington and Auckland, with an estimated 100 people actively practising the sport. The Wellington guild competes on national and international levels, and recently placed first and second at Brewtown’s Buhurt competition.  

As we arrive at the gym, a large mob dressed in sweats drag in large suitcases, swords, and other weaponry.  The guild begins in a circle listening to intense medieval ballads whilst flex our fingers and downward dog.  

I am excited. My dreams of a silver breast plate and whipping my helmet off to reveal my golden flowing hair are about to come true.   

But my shiny ambitions are put to defeat when club president Sam Steed hands us hard plastic helmets and soft leg and arm pads. 

“Oh yeah, you’re definitely not fighting with real armour,” he says. My dream of a silver sword is crushed by a pool noodle and soft plastic shield.   

President Sam introduces Hannah and I to the basics of duelling in an easy four-step combo to protect and attack.   

Attack:  

Strike one: a swift jab at the opponent's shield side.   

Strike two: a swing across-the-body to the opponent’s right side.   

Strike three: a low swing at the legs.   

Defence:   

Defence one: the starting position of a duel aka sword rests on top of the shield.

Defence two: sword and shield meet above the head (like a house).  

Sam advises aiming for the opponent’s head so the blade should be meeting their ears. He says aiming for the legs is an easy target. Generally nothing is off limits in Buhurt. Swings behind the knees and other unarmoured areas are low blows but allowed. Stabbing is strictly forbidden and equals ten press-ups in full armour.   

Whilst Hannah and I clumsily fling at each other with our pool noodles, the rest of the guild are on a full-blown crusade. Red and purple swords clink against each other as fighters wrestle to the floor. One unfortunate member of the purple team is pinned by both arms while a sword strikes him between the shoulder blades.   

I grimace whilst Hannah’s eyes shine.  

“That’s how hard we need to be going, Maisie,” she says with concerning gleefulness.   

President of the Historic Medieval Battles NZ and senior guild member, Jesse Helldiver, says that the thrill of danger is what draws him to Buhurt. He usually leaves a match in an ambulance, with his worst injury being his shoulder blade being shattered into three parts after being struck in the back. 

“I mean, things like that happen, it’s a really small sport, everybody knows each other,” he says, “It’s not malicious or anything.”  

Jesse’s commitment to the sport goes past battering his body into battering his bank account. Buhurt armoury costs between $5000-$100,000 due to the armour being made mostly in Ukraine and Russia. It’s incredibly hard to repair and find parts. 

Jesse’s $15K gold detailed armour is latched in pieces onto his body by another member. Once his helmet is secured and his steel footwear is fastened, the whole set weighs around 60kg.   

Whilst Jesse fits the like dashing knight aesthetic I had envisioned for myself, the thought of battling in 60kgs makes the duel a whole less appealing.   

But finally, it is time for my duel.   

The guild gathers around the mat, chanting encouragement. To the soundtrack of medieval hard rock, I run onto the mat, followed by Hannah. We circle each other like sharks. There is going to be blood.   

Someone bellows, “Start fighting.”  

Hannah leds with a successful first swing, and all of my training goes out the window into genuine survival.   

"You're not friends!" A knight on the sidelines shouts.  

"Aim for the head and hit harder!" another yells. The thirst drives me to clumsily hit Hannah on her leg.   

"And break!"  

The battle concludes, and the guild erupts in huzzah whilst we are bent over in exhaustion. But in all the fun, the guild forgot to keep count, and a winner is undecided. We leave the guild un-victorious, but with the grand knowledge of the knight-dom.   

What I dismissed as a nerdy hobby, I now respect as a badass sport. As someone who thinks of themself as fairly fit, I was unmatched compared to the people running at each other in 60kg armour. Despite the sport’s rough reputation, the guild’s generosity and support for my clumsy attempts left me in awe of its electric community spirit.  

So, let’s embrace the simpler times of pledges to hex your enemy’s bloodline. Join a guild, get a hobby horse and challenge your ops to a battle. Huzzah!