The Copper Sign (6 page)

At that moment she caught sight of the purse thief that she had seen before. He was pushing his way through the crowd, moving farther and farther away from her.

He was the one who had robbed her! She tried desperately to fight her way through the crowd as well, but she just couldn’t catch up with the boy and eventually lost sight of him. He must have turned into one of the narrow alleys.

In despair Ellen leaned against the wall of a house. She stared blankly into space with tears in her eyes, unable to think about what to do next. She had nothing left but the clothes on her back. The tears were running down her cheeks—she had worked so hard for her money, and now what could she do now? She wiped her eyes and looked around helplessly.

A tall, older man caught her attention. She was so struck by his appearance that for a moment she forgot her grief and stared at him in disbelief. His elegant, long clothes were of the finest dark blue cloth and trimmed with brown fur. He had a walking stick with a silver knob on it that he leaned on as he strode along. The stick, his fine clothing, and his glistening grey hair lent him an aura of elegance. But it was his piercing blue eyes and the pinched look around his mouth that intrigued her so much, as it reminded her of her mother. Instinctively, she followed him up to a large house where he stopped, took a heavy iron key from his belt, and prepared to open the elaborately carved oaken door. Before he could place the key in the lock, however, the door opened by itself as if by magic.

A young girl appeared in the entrance.

Ellen moved closer to the two in order to get a better view.

The girl’s sky blue dress was made of shiny material and was embroidered with silver threads at the neckline. It looked precious, elegant, and unpretentious at the same time. Ellen had never seen anything more beautiful! But when she looked into the face of the angelic figure, she gasped. It was Aedith! She had grown since Ellen had last seen her.

The old man, who looked so much like Leofrun, had to be her grandfather!

Ellen suddenly felt a huge lump in her throat, and a wave of homesickness came over her. For a moment she thought about going to the two and embracing them. She was bursting with curiosity about her grandfather, and suddenly her anger at her sister seemed to have disappeared.

Aedith must have come to Ipswich in order to marry the silk merchant to whom she was given in marriage by Leofrun more than a year ago. Ellen wondered whether Mildred and Kenny were also there.

As Aedith closed the door behind the grandfather, she briefly glanced at Ellen, clearly thinking her sister was just another simple street urchin not worthy of attention.

She hasn’t changed
, Ellen thought bitterly, disappointed that Aedith had not recognized her.

As Ellen walked away, despondent, she suddenly caught sight of the young thief again, who seemed to have already found a new victim. Her anger at his shameless behavior and the hope of getting her purse back lent her new courage. After all, she was a boy now and knew how to handle such fellows!

She carefully approached him from behind and took the rest of the leather thong between her hands, grabbing it tightly. The boy was a little bigger than she, but slender. Ellen carefully crept up to him, wrapped the lace around his neck, and with a strong tug pulled him into an alley. The boy staggered backward and tried to pull off the lace that was cutting into his neck.

“Where is the purse that was attached to this cord until just a while ago?” Ellen hissed, pulling the defenseless youth farther back into the narrow, dark alleyway.

The boy gasped in vain for air. “I don’t have it anymore,” he wheezed.

“Then let’s go and get it. Right now!” Ellen snarled. She loosened the thong so he could get a bit more air but was ready to tighten the noose again if she had to in order to keep him under control.

“I can’t do it.”

“Why not?”

“He would kill me, and you too.”

“Who?”

“One-Eyed Gilbert.”

“Now just who might that be?” Ellen grumbled.

“He has a brothel over on Tart Lane. If I don’t bring back enough money from my forays, he will whip me almost to death.”

Ellen spat on the ground in disgust. “Do you think that’s a reason to steal other people’s hard-earned money?” she snorted. “Leave him, go out, and get yourself a decent job. You are still young,” she said, giving gave him an angry punch in the stomach.

“I can’t. He has my little sister, and as long as I steal for him he will spare her. If I run away or if I don’t bring back enough money, he’ll hand her over to his customers.”

For a moment, Ellen was sorry for the boy—but he was probably lying. She could sense he was calming down.

“I can’t give you back your purse, but I could rob someone else for you, if you want.” His voice rose expectantly, and Ellen saw that his face had brightened.

She thought about his suggestion and frowned. He probably would go on stealing in any case, so why shouldn’t he steal for her? Ellen thought of the woman he had been watching. She had been holding a small boy by the hand and certainly needed the money to buy food and other essentials for her family. Should she pay for his debts, and if she didn’t, who would? The next victim? Didn’t everyone need money?

“Please let me go, my neck hurts so much,” the boy pleaded.

“Get out of my sight, go on, leave!” Ellen shouted at him and pushed him away.

The boy fell on his knees, pulled himself together again, and ran off.

Ellen tore at her hair. She didn’t have a penny left, and if she didn’t find work right away she would be lost. She gripped the hammer on her belt. She had to find Master Donovan, as she had promised Llewyn she would. That was her last chance. She looked around—apparently she was on the Cloth Merchants Street—and decided to ask at one of the booths where to find the blacksmiths.

An older woman who had just bought a large piece of linen smiled at her. “I’ll show you the way, if you want to come along with me for a bit,” she suggested, piling the cloth on top of her basketful of other things.

Ellen offered politely to carry her purchases, and the woman accepted gratefully.

“Then come along. My name is Glenna, by the way, and my husband Donovan is the blacksmith, too.”

“Oh!” Ellen beamed at hearing the unexpected good news.

“You have already heard of him?” Glenna’s question sounded more like a statement.

“Yes, I have.” Ellen nodded and followed her, frantically trying to figure out what to do next. If she first told the master’s wife what she wanted, then he might think Ellen was trying to do something behind his back and would be annoyed at her. On the other hand, it was impolite not to tell her anything at all. As the master’s wife she was in charge of everyone living in the house, including apprentices and helpers. Ellen considered the pros and cons but came to no decision.

“You are too young to be a journeyman, but I see a hammer on your belt that has seen a lot of use,” the woman noted.

Ellen decided to seize this favorable moment to bring up her concern. “You are right, I am not yet a journeyman,” she answered politely. “I was not even a real apprentice but just a helper in the blacksmith shop and got the hammer as a gift from my master, Llewyn. In Framlingham they call him the Irishman, and I think your husband knows him.”

“Llewyn!” the woman exclaimed, beaming. She added with a laugh, “You certainly can say he knows him. He raised him as a child!”

Ellen lifted her eyebrows and stared at Glenna in amazement. “All he told me was that his father knew Master Donovan well.”

“Llewyn’s father was Donovan’s best and possibly only friend. What a stubborn Irishman! Only someone like that could get along with Don.” Glenna nodded emphatically and brushed a strand of grey hair out of her face. “Llewyn’s mother was a delicate girl from Wales and did not survive her son’s birth. A few years later his father died too, and the poor lad was all alone in the world. We took him in when he was no more than four years old, just after Donovan and I had married.” She stopped for a moment and put her hand on Ellen’s arm. “How is my Llewyn?”

Ellen thought of Llewyn and how their parting was harder for her than she had expected. His calm, even temper had given her a feeling of confidence and security. “He is well, very well,” she said reassuringly. Ellen liked the woman at once, perhaps because she had such a sparkle in her eye when she spoke of Llewyn.

“Is he married? Does he have children?”

“No.” Ellen shook her head.

Glenna looked a bit disappointed.

“How many children do you have?” Ellen asked.

“We have no children of our own—this is not a blessing the Lord has given to us. That’s why He gave us Llewyn.” This time the woman sounded sad.

Ellen hadn’t meant to make her feel miserable and looked down in embarrassment.

“If Llewyn gave you this hammer, he must think a lot of you.” Glenna stopped again. “May I?” she asked, reaching for the tool and examining it. “I thought so. He got the hammer from Donovan after he had finished his apprenticeship. Do you see the marking there on the head of the hammer? That’s Donovan’s sign, I’m quite sure of that.”

Ellen was moved, realizing for the first time how much this hammer must have meant to Llewyn. She remembered the nostalgic expression in his eyes when he spoke of Donovan and wondered why he had not also become a swordsmith. She couldn’t imagine that he was not good enough. Despite her curiosity, she decided not to ask Glenna about it. If she should get hired by Donovan, she would find out soon enough.

“So here we are. This is our house, and there is the forge,” Glenna said, pointing to the workshop nearby.

A cat was lying in the sun in the courtyard of the smithy, a few chickens were pecking contentedly in the dirt, and on a small patch of land next to the house a goat was tied to a stake. A smithy made of stone was nothing unusual, but the house was, too, and that was a sign of wealth. Donovan must indeed be a famous swordsmith to afford that.

Ellen had grown up in a simpler house made of oak beams, clay, and straw, like most of the houses in Orford. Only the church and Orford Manor, the estate house, were built of stone.

Glenna opened the door. “Come on in. You must be thirsty, and perhaps hungry as well. Sit down at the table and put the basket there on the chair.” She beckoned for Ellen to enter and presented her with a pitcher of cider, a smoked chicken leg, and a slice of bread.

“Smoked chicken?” Ellen inquired in astonishment and immediately got her appetite back again. “It tastes very good!” she said. “Back in Orford we have smoked cheese, which is also very good.” She chattered away but then got angry at herself for being so careless and telling where she had come from.

Fortunately, Glenna was lost in thought at the moment and hadn’t been listening. One could see in her face that she had been thinking of Llewyn.

“Excuse me, please, what did you say?” she asked.

“Really good, the cider, too,” Ellen said quickly, and reminded herself to be more careful in the future.

“I assume you want to ask Donovan for work?”

Ellen thought she detected a look of sympathy in her face.

“I promised Llewyn I would.” Ellen tried hard not to make it sound like an apology.

“Then you should go over and talk to him right away. It won’t be easy, I’ll tell you that. He’s a stubborn man who has made up his mind not to take on any new apprentice.” Glenna patted Ellen on the shoulder. “Nevertheless, you should ask for a trial period, no matter how much he curses or berates you.” She nodded encouragingly. “Now off you go…but wait, what’s your name?”

“Alan.”

“So, Alan, go then, and good luck!”

“Thank you!”

“And don’t let him put you off—remember what I told you,” Glenna called to Ellen as she left.

When Ellen entered the smithy, it was as if she were coming home. The arrangement of things inside the stone building was very similar to that in Osmond’s workshop. Donovan looked quite different than what she had imagined. She had expected a large, powerful man like Llewyn, but Donovan was small, almost dainty looking, and more like a goldsmith than a famous swordsmith.

“Close the door!” he thundered with an astonishingly deep bass voice.

Ellen quickly did so. Osmond had hated it, too, when the door to his workshop was left open. But since Llewyn had continued working outdoors in the springtime despite the promises of the builder, Ellen was no longer accustomed to closing the door to the workshop after entering.

“Greetings, Master Donovan,” she said, hoping he hadn’t noticed the trembling in her voice.

“What do you want?” he asked gruffly, looking at her from head to toe with a wrinkled brow.

Ellen had never felt so worthless as she did under his withering gaze. “I’d like to work for you and learn your trade, master.”

“And why should I share what I know with you? How will you pay me?” he asked coldly, without even taking the trouble to look at her.

Ellen was horrified. How could any self-respecting master ask a question like that? Was he only interested in money? Would he sell his knowledge like a commodity to whoever paid him the most rather than to the worthiest person?

“No, master, I can’t pay,” she said sheepishly.

“Aha! That’s what I thought,” he grumbled.

“But I can work hard in return for your knowledge.” Ellen noticed how flippant she had sounded and regretted her lack of control.
I sound like an old fishwife, not a smith’s apprentice
.

“I don’t need a helper. I already have a good one.”

“I can do more than just assist you. Try me out!”

“I have a lot to do and no time to waste. Go to the devil, you snotty little brat.”

Even though the smith sounded angry and dismissive, Ellen thought she saw something akin to helplessness in his eyes. At first glance she didn’t really care for Donovan, but if Llewyn held him in such high esteem, there had to be a reason. Ellen decided to listen to Glenna and just ignore the rude insult. “Well, if you have so much to do, wouldn’t it be a good idea for me to help?” The trembling in her voice had given way to cool detachment. She set her ragged bundle down in a corner and looked around the workshop.