Deadlier than the male
By Steve W (sjw2214@hotmail.com)
Some thoughts on the Modesty Blaise vs Mr. Sexton fight in The Silver Mistress

I've long been a fan of mixed (female vs. male) combat, especially when the female 
triumphs against an apparently superior male opponent. Over the years I've 
purchased many tapes, rented many videos, and read many stories featuring this 
theme. Though much of this material was of mediocre quality (or worse), there 
were still just enough gems among the trash to make the search worthwhile. Yet 
even after years of collecting, I don't believe that I've ever watched or read a mixed 
fighting scene more exciting than the climactic battle between fictional superspy 
Modesty Blaise and the martial arts master Mr. Sexton at the end of Peter 
O'Donnell's novel The Silver Mistress. I first read the book more than twenty years 
ago, and that scene immediately made such an indelible impression on me 
that to this day it remains the standard against which I judge all other 
mixed combat narratives. I've often asked myself just what makes it so powerful 
and effective (an opinion you perhaps share, since you're reading this), and I finally 
decided to set down some of my answers to that question. Here, then, are a few 
thoughts on the elements I find most compelling in a female vs. male fight, along 
with various specific references to The Silver Mistress to show how the Modesty vs. 
Mr. Sexton battle contains all those elements in abundance. Some parts of what 
follows may seem obvious, while some, perhaps, will not. Feel free to agree or 
disagree with any or all of it, and to send me any positive or negative reactions. 
 
A few quick notes before we begin: 1) Modesty Blaise has a deservedly large and 
loyal following, and holds a special place in the hearts of her many devoted fans. 
I hope that no one is offended by my appropriating Modesty as the ultimate 
example of my own particular interest: a strong, confident, resourceful woman 
capable of defeating a superbly gifted male foe. 2) I have not given page references 
for the quotes cited below, as The Silver Mistress has appeared in many different 
hardcover and paperback editions over the years. I'll be glad to direct anyone 
interested to the location of a specific quote in the novel. 3) If you haven't read The 
Silver Mistress, be aware that there are spoilers ahead: the final battle, and its 
outcome, are discussed in detail. 
 
Onward to what, for me, constitutes a great female vs. male fight: 
 
Against the odds. The idea of a weaker opponent defeating a stronger one 
possesses an appeal that goes back at least as far as David and Goliath. And Mr. 
Sexton, in terms of his strength and fighting skill, is certainly presented as a sort of 
modern-day Goliath. Six feet tall and broad-shouldered, O'Donnell calls him "a man 
from another age, a throwback" and compares him to Richard the Lionheart. His 
strength is almost beyond belief: after suffering at Sexton's hands, Sir Gerald 
Tarrant "had never dreamt that such strength could exist in a man." Moreover, 
Sexton is supremely skilled and completely confident. "I am the greatest combat-
man in the world," he straightforwardly, and correctly, declares. 
 
We see many examples of Sexton's capabilities in the novel. As he goes merrily 
about his business, splitting skulls, killing three opponents in a matter of seconds, 
bending iron bars, tearing off car doors, and pulling down small stone buildings, all 
with his bare hands, we as readers are left with the inescapable impression that he 
represents the very pinnacle of male power, ability, speed, and strength. He is a 
very dangerous man. And if victory is more worthy when the opponent is more 
dangerous, then any person who can defeat Sexton will have accomplished 
something remarkable indeed.


But in this case that person, of course, is a woman, Modesty Blaise. Now, I know 
that some mixed-combat fans prefer a one-sided female victory, but for me the best 
mixed fights are those where the outcome is uncertain, where the woman faces 
genuine danger, and where she must call upon all her physical and mental strength 
to prevail. That's definitely the case here. In fact, the reader is entitled to ask how 
any woman could possibly defeat the Ultimate Fighting Male. Which brings me to... 
 
Plausibility. Again, with respectful apologies to those who prefer stories with 
superwomen, I've always preferred stories of flesh-and-blood women with superior 
abilities- just the sort of abilities necessary for anyone to stand a chance against 
Sexton. And it seems to me that in The Silver Mistress O'Donnell very cleverly 
introduces and sustains the possibility that Modesty just might be able to defeat 
such an apparently invincible foe. 
 
First, the author frequently mentions Modesty's own first-rate physical qualities. For 
example, Tarrant, anticipating seeing Modesty again, recalls her "splendid 
shoulders," while Quinn, upon seeing her leg, thinks that she must be a dancer. In 
addition, when Modesty rescues Quinn from the gorge, she at one point supports his 
full body weight at the end of a rope, an effort that leaves her hands raw and 
bloodied. (The fight with Sexton is nicely foreshadowed here: we see not only that 
Modesty is strong enough to hold a man off the ground, but also that, with 
admirable female determination, she will persevere and not let pain deter her from 
reaching a goal.) After he has been rescued, Quinn feels Modesty's "sinewy power" 
when she helps him walk, and, near the end of the novel, she provides similar 
physical assistance to the injured Tarrant as they escape from the chateau and 
descend through the caves. In short, she is strong. Her strength will surprise Sexton 
when they fight. 
 
And of course, Modesty can fight, as anyone at all familiar with this series of 
books well knows. In The Silver Mistress, for example, in a three-against-one 
encounter, she quickly incapacitates the same men whom Sexton later kills. 
Moreover, though taken by surprise by Sexton's abilities in their first brief struggle, 
she later asks him if he has studied under the master Saragam. Her knowledge of 
combat is such that she can recognize the influence of a particular teacher or style 
almost instantly. 
 
Plus, she keeps her wits about her at all times, a quality in evidence throughout the 
book, but perhaps best illustrated by the scene in the gym where Sexton gives a 
demonstration of his unmatched skill and strength. Though Modesty's fluttering 
hand motions as she witnesses this awesome display are interpreted by some of 
those present as a sign of her fear at the prospect of facing Sexton in a fight, she is 
in fact signaling escape plans to Willie Garvin. No matter what the odds, it seems, 
Modesty will always search for a way to win. Cool, cunning, courageous, capable, 
controlled: she is a very dangerous woman. 
 
The best evaluation of Modesty's chances against Sexton comes from Willie. He is 
completely realistic: "Sexton's a fanatic. He's a natural to start with, and he's spent a 
lifetime training to make himself the best ever...He's about ten percent faster than 
she is, and a mile stronger." On the other hand: "When it comes to the real thing, I 
don't reckon Sexton's ever had to fight against odds for his life, it's always been a 
walkover. Modesty's been up against odds since she was a kid, and she knows all 
about it. She's got...reserves, resources. And when it comes to making use of terrain 
and externals she's so bloody sneaky you'd never believe it." Willie's analysis lets us 
believe that, under the right circumstances, Modesty does indeed have a chance 
against Sexton, slim though that chance may be. Thus, when Quinn asks point-
blank if Modesty can beat Sexton, Willie does not say no: "Willie half closed his 
eyes, gazing at the blank wall. 'I don't know,' he said at last. 'On form, and fighting 
on Sexton's home ground in that gym, the odds are too big. But it's academic 
anyway. If she did break Sexton, she wouldn't last ten seconds. They'd gun her 
down.'" (Note that word "break": it will appear again later.) 
 
In fact, Willie soon seems to revise his assessment of Modesty's chances upward. 
He speculates that perhaps Modesty will catch Sexton by surprise at the start of 
their prospective fight in the gym, and, significantly, in his last words in the novel 
before the Modesty-Sexton showdown in the cave, he says, "Christ help anyone 
who gets in her way now. Anyone." 
 
For me, all of the above helps O'Donnell to achieve the sort of plausibility 
necessary for a memorable mixed fight. He allows us to suspend disbelief and to 
consider seriously the remarkable possibility that the world's greatest fighting man 
might be defeated in unarmed combat by a woman. 
 
A naked woman, no less. Which brings me to: 

 
Sensuality. I find this an important element in any first-rate mixed fight. After all, 
there's little point is describing a struggle between a man and a woman if you don't 
make it clear that the woman is a woman. Having Modesty remove all her clothes 
certainly does that. (Smile). Seriously, though, while I know that Modesty manages 
to wind up topless or naked in several of her adventures, in this one having her 
undress (and be rubbed down with grease!) makes good sense in terms of the plot. 
For if Sexton, with "fingers like iron rods," gets a grip on her or her clothing while 
they fight, she will be finished. So she fights him naked, an image doubtless burned 
into the imagination of every male who has ever read the novel. And just in case 
some reader was not paying attention, O'Donnell provides a few helpful reminders 
of our heroine's femininity, noting "the slow rise and fall of the breasts under her 
steady breathing," and adding, later, "mostly what Tarrant remembered was 
Modesty's body...firm-breasted and long-limbed." 
 
Of course, to face Sexton nude also serves to emphasize Modesty's vulnerability 
and physical disadvantage. She is a woman of "flesh and bone," about to battle a 
bigger, stronger, more physically gifted male opponent, with only her will and her 
skill to rely on. A lesser woman would collapse at the prospect of facing such a foe. 
Not so Modesty, who tells Tarrant, moments before engaging Sexton in their fight 
to the death, "We're going to win this one now." Such courage in the face of 
imminent danger only adds to her appeal. 
 
Yet all of this is, in a way, old and familiar material. Those of us who enjoy stories 
of mixed combat have read many in which a bigger, stronger man loses to a smaller, 
determined -and often naked- woman. For me, though, the Modesty vs. Sexton fight 
offers something more. I'd like to examine just what that is in the next section. 
 
Man and Woman, Sex and Death. (or, La petite mort et la grande mort). I can 
still remember the almost electric feeling of excitement I experienced when I read 
the Modesty vs. Sexton fight scene for the first time. And apparently I'm not the 
only one to find it so stimulating. In an article in the British publication New 
Statesman in 2002, reviewer Rachel Cooke referred to it as "the most stunningly 
sexy scene I have ever come across in popular fiction." (See "An immodest proposal: 
Rachel Cooke celebrates the return of the mistress of high kicks and high jinks - 
action heroine Modesty Blaise." http://www.newstatesman.com/200209160036) 
 
"Sexy" is certainly a good word, for the scene, as we will see, absolutely crackles 
with sexual tension and imagery. "Epic" and "mythic" are other appropriate 
adjectives. In a sense, we are about to witness the ultimate Battle of the Sexes, a 
one-on-one confrontation between a supremely skilled male and a supremely skilled 
female. The notion that the female just might defeat the male is exhilarating- or 
perhaps frightening. I suppose it all depends on your point of view. 
 
Let me digress for a moment. There was a series of pulp novels published in the 
1970s called The Baroness. These books recounted the exotic and erotic adventures 
of a sexy female spy. They were written on a literary level far below that of the 
Modesty Blaise books, but a passage from one of them (Baroness #4, Hardcore 
Murder) seems apt here. The passage in question sets the scene for a final, unarmed 
(and unclothed) fight in the desert between the Baroness and Iron Man, a giant, 
heavily-muscled opponent. "They faced each other across a patch of sand, a naked 
man and a naked woman. At some moment in the distant past, a male and a female 
had contended this way and fixed the fate of the sexes forever." Well, if the woman 
wins, "forever" comes to an end. 
 
In case you think I'm making too much of this, consider that O'Donnell repeatedly 
describes the prelude to the Modesty vs. Sexton fight in historic, heroic, mythic and 
epic terms. As Tarrant greases Modesty's body, he feels "like some ancient priest of 
Egypt performing a funeral rite." Modesty, as she faces Sexton, seems "a myth 
made flesh, a daughter of Mars, supreme mistress of the warrior arts, carrying an 
aura taut, lusty, bracing." Her features "might have been cast in bronze, and in the 
eyes there was a dark intensity. Cold, brooding, primordial." This is "a time to kill 
or a time to die." Something momentous and ancient and elemental is about to 
happen here. It is no coincidence that this death match between a man and a woman 
takes place in a cave, for its origins lie deep in our collective past. 
 
It is also no coincidence that O'Donnell describes this ultimate battle of the sexes in 
sexual terms. He does this so skillfully and unobtrusively that the technique is easy 
to overlook. Yet the entire battle between Modesty and Sexton is absolutely filled 
with sexual metaphors, especially those associated with the idea of female 
endurance draining male strength. In short, the woman outlasts the man. Here, I 
believe, lies the secret of this scene's appeal. In it, familiar sexual imagery is used in 
a new and uncharted context. We as readers are taken to a place where we've never 
been before, the world where the fate of the sexes is not fixed forever, and a naked 
woman can defeat the ultimate fighting man. Yet we get there through well-known 
sexual territory, where a woman's resources and reserves often surpass those of her 
male counterpart. The fight between Modesty and Sexton is, in fact, an odd sort of 
mating dance, whose purpose is not bonding and union and procreation, but rather 
the inevitable destruction of one of the participants. A dance that produces death, 
rather than life. And, in this pseudo-sexual encounter, Modesty drains, outlasts and 
ultimately destroys her larger and stronger foe. In an atmosphere supercharged with 
themes of sex and death, she becomes the living embodiment of the idea that the 
female, with all her resources and reserves, is ultimately stronger and deadlier than 
the male. The effect is powerful and unforgettable. 
 
I want to examine the fight closely. Let's start with Sexton's name, which I am sure 
O'Donnell did not choose at random, since it so wonderfully reflects both the sex 
and death themes. The first one is obvious; as for the second, "sexton," among other 
meanings, is the term for a man who digs graves in a churchyard. Little does Sexton 
suspect that he is digging his own grave in fighting Modesty. 
 
Next, consider Sexton's actions as he approaches Modesty. He is armed, but wants 
to kill her with his bare hands. "He bent to put down his pistol...in a crevice of 
rock." One does not need to be Sigmund Freud to see the sexual symbolism there. 
Sexton's first words to the naked Modesty are also telling: "I hope you aren't trying 
to seduce me." She is not, of course. Death, and not sex, is the purpose of this 
encounter. 
 
But it will be death brought about through sexual imagery. The fight begins with a 
sort of foreplay: "two figures weaving, closing, parting, as if in some eerie dance." 
Modesty moves "in a darting counterpoint of movement that seemed to unite in a 
prearranged harmony with Sexton's attack." There are, moreover, moments when 
the two seem about to engage each other more closely. Twice, Sexton briefly grabs 
hold of Modesty, who twists her greased limbs free, while she once nearly lands a 
devastating kick when he briefly stumbles. As the tension builds, closer, more 
intimate contact is never far off. 
 
And then it arrives: "It was then that she moved forward for the first time, suddenly 
flowing at him with bewildering speed, into the iron arms." Iron arms: a great 
phrase, don't you think? The naked woman of flesh and bone and the all-powerful 
man of iron are now locked together in a mortal embrace. "Her face was against his 
chest, her arms around his waist, and she was encircled by his grasp...With a flicker 
of surprise, Sexton felt her lift his weight, so that his feet came an inch or two clear 
of the ground." Another memorable moment: Modesty may not be as strong as 
Sexton, but she is stronger than he realized. (The phrase "never underestimate the 
power of a woman" comes to mind.) There are mythological overtones here, too, as 
this scene recalls one of the adventures of Hercules. According to legend, the Greek 
hero once fought the apparently invincible Antaeus, a giant who drew his 
tremendous strength from contact with the earth. Hercules defeated Antaeus by 
lifting him off the ground, holding him aloft until the giant's strength drained away, 
and strangling him in the air- a near-parallel to what Modesty is about to do to 
Sexton, though in this case underwater. The substitution of a female in the role of 
strength-sapping giant-killer, of course, produces tremendous sexual overtones and 
erotic appeal. 
 
But the giant in Modesty's grasp is by no means dead yet, and in fact is unaware of 
any impending danger. "He laughed, knowing that from this position there was no 
way she could throw him, no way she could escape. Hooking his hands together 
behind her back, he prepared to crush her slowly." This is the ultimate- in every 
sense of the word- moment of Sexton's male power. He plans to crush the naked 
female in his grasp, certain that she cannot get away. But he is about to lose his 
advantage, his strength, and his life. 
 
For Modesty alters the terms of the fight, and plunges with Sexton into the freezing 
waters of the underground lake in the cave. "She was still carrying him back...back. 
In the instant of shock, when he realized her purpose, it was already too late. They 
were falling, locked together. He snatched a frantic breath as his back hit the water, 
then the ferocious cold enfolded him, striking into his bones. He was unready for it, 
mentally and physically, and there were a few seconds of almost total paralysis. His 
grip slackened as they sank down, and then he had lost her, the slippery body 
writhing from his enfeebled grasp." Already the giant's strength is waning. 
Moreover, with no air to breathe, endurance, not strength, will now take 
precedence. And Modesty intends to endure. 
 
I should point out, apropos this subject of endurance, that Modesty has not exactly 
been relaxing during the last few minutes. She helped the injured Tarrant move 
through the caves, she fought a big man capable of killing her with a single well-
placed blow, she lifted that man off the ground and carried him- none of this is 
suitable preparation for an extended stay underwater. But implicit in her strategy of 
taking Sexton into the depths of the lake is the idea that she can outlast him there. I 
am reminded of the old question about who would win a fight between a tiger and a 
shark. The answer, of course, is different in water than on land. Modesty is now in 
her element, and goes on the attack. 
 
"Fighting sudden panic, he kicked out hard for the surface, but she was behind him 
now. A forearm slid under his chin, clamping tightly against his throat as the hand 
found a grip on her other arm, at the crook of the elbow; and the hand of that other 
arm was spread against the back of his head in a lock that could have broken his 
neck but for his abnormal strength. Her legs coiled about his waist, putting pressure 
on his ribs." Panic: as Willie surmised, Sexton is not as capable as Modesty when it 
comes to coping with disadvantage. And Sexton is certainly at a disadvantage here, 
for he and Modesty are locked together again, but this time he is the one who 
cannot escape. 
 
And he is growing ever weaker. "On firm ground he could have dislodged the hold 
in one of five ways, or by sheer strength alone. But here there was no purchase for 
his feet, and the paralysis of cold had sapped power from the great muscles." His 
iron arms can no longer overpower his female foe. 
 
As the fight approaches its climax, Sexton's actions strongly resemble those of a 
man approaching, well, climax. Modesty uses one leg "to turn their bodies in a slow 
backward roll. Water rushed up Sexton's nose. He snorted it out, losing precious air 
from his lungs, then suddenly went mad, groping for thigh, arm, shoulder, face." 
Nearing the end of his resistance, he thrashes about and paws wildly at the woman's 
body. Does that remind you of any well-known sexual situation? 
 
Consider this as well: "Somehow he caught her foot at his waist, and tried to 
summon the strength to snap the ankle. There was thunder in his head, agony in his 
chest." By now Sexton is barely capable of rational thought. "The grip across his 
throat slackened. Hope roared in him...then vanished utterly, for he knew that even 
in the easing of the hold she had tricked him." For Modesty is still thinking, and 
knows that the moment has come when Sexton can no longer control his own 
body's reactions. "His diaphragm, seeking relief for the tortured lungs, responded 
before he could control it. He breathed- and breathed water." What that moment 
symbolizes, I don't have to tell you. 
 
Appropriately, this death-as-sex encounter finishes with the male, at climax, 
experiencing not an overpowering feeling of love, but its opposite. "Then the neck-
lock snapped tight again and his spirit broke. His obsessed mind cried out with 
bitter agony that he had been tricked, not defeated. The last thing he knew was a 
surge of corrosive hatred that swamped all else, even the fear of death." In that last 
passage there appears the word that Willie used- broke. Sexton expected to match 
his man's strength against Modesty's woman's strength, his man's skill against her 
woman's skill. In such a contest, he likely would have prevailed. But she forced him 
to pit a man's endurance against a woman's, his cunning against hers, his will 
against her will. And he broke. The world's greatest fighting man, matched against a 
woman, met a tougher, more tenacious, more determined opponent, and was 
destroyed. 
 
But Modesty isn't through with him yet. She kills after mating. "Modesty felt him 
go limp." (A telling adjective.) "It was not enough; not with Sexton. Her own body 
was clamoring for oxygen now, but she subdued it. Dredging up the last reserves of 
her strength she poured them all into a sudden leverage against the massive but 
unresisting neck." I like that bit. Modesty can do precisely what Sexton could not: 
endure the agony, master her body's demands, and produce one final effort of 
strength and will. Deadlier than the male, indeed. 
 
The last few pages of the novel offer some very nice finishing touches that 
add texture and detail to our theme. Modesty's release of fear when she emerges at 
last from the lake allows us to recognize and appreciate the enormous courage and 
self-control she needed to display in facing Sexton. Likewise, her bruised and 
bloody arm "savaged from shoulder to elbow," gives vivid testimony to the pain she 
endured (remember Quinn!) as Sexton fought desperately, with all his remaining 
strength, to escape her grasp. And Sexton's final appearance, when his drowned 
body, with its head "at an impossible angle," surfaces in the lake, turns, and sinks 
again, is a sort of silent salute to his female conqueror. (Some women might call 
him a typical male. He achieves climax, rolls over, and goes to sleep.) 
 
In the end, then, perhaps the fate of the sexes is not fixed forever. To recognize that 
is a stimulating and liberating thought. Tarrant, who has served as our eyes in the 
novel, seems to understand this. Not only does he tell Modesty outright that she is 
the best in the world at what she does, but, having witnessed her in action, "he knew 
that he would never be quite the same man again." In fact, "he felt he had been born 
again in the cave's womb." Born again, that is, from the intensely sexual encounter 
in which the world's greatest fighter defeated the world's greatest fighting.... man. 
 

Comments welcome at sjw2214@hotmail.com.