The Copper Sign (65 page)

“Ever since you have been working on this sword, you are so…so passionate!” His eyes sparkled.

Ellen blushed.

Isaac brushed an unruly lock of hair out of her face.

“You are so beautiful! I love you!” he whispered.

Ellen nestled contentedly against his arm. “Put out the light, dear,” she mumbled and immediately fell asleep.

Ellen had thrown herself so enthusiastically into her work that she finished the sword even before the appointed date. Alone in the smithy, she lay Runedur down on the table in front of her, looking at it as intently as if she were seeing it for the first time. The belt was made of darkly tanned, heavy cow’s hide and had a wide brass buckle. The scabbard was sheathed in purple silk interwoven with gold and fastened to it with intersecting bands of leather. The broad point of the sword was protected by a golden chape with finely engraved wavy lines. Ellen had decorated the round pommel with the two largest jewels—a ruby and an emerald—which she had set in exactly the middle of each side. The smaller stones were arranged like petals around the center stone and decorated with elegant patterns and delicately gilded tendrils. The handle, made of ash, had been wrapped in dark leather covered by twisted gold wire, and was splendid to hold. The cross guard was straight, only slightly turned down at the gilded ends that looked like wolf’s jaws.

After Ellen had inspected the sword for a while, she drew it out of the scabbard. The blade was sharp on both sides and had an unusually long fuller due to the accident she’d had while scraping it out, but it made the sword look even more elegant. Ellen took a heavy cloth, wrapped it around the point of the blade, and bent the sword in a half circle. As soon as she released it, it sprang back and was just as straight as before. The blade had lost none of its flexibility and hardness due to the long fuller.

She sighed contentedly, then took a piece of linen, just as Donovan used to, and passed it over the blade. The sword cut through the material easily. Ellen was satisfied with the smooth cutting surface. On the side with the blood-red ruby that stood for the heart and life of young Henry, Ellen had inlaid some runes in gold wire that were meant to bring luck, courage, and many victories to the owner of the sword. Donovan had taught her these ancient symbols and what they meant. Though they were regarded as pagan, they were still much sought-after as symbols of victory. To assure the Young King of God’s mercy, Ellen had decided to inlay right next to them the words IN NOMINE DOMINI in gold wire. On the side with the emerald, which was as green as her eyes, she had inlaid only the letter E in copper, within a circle. The wonderful, highly polished blade would certainly make any sword lover’s heart beat faster! A shiver of joy ran down her back—she was so pleased with Runedur.

“Young Henry!” Peter came running into the smithy. “He is camped only a few miles northwest of here.” Peter dropped breathless onto a wobbly stool and almost fell on the floor.

“The king?” Ellen’s eyes lit up. “Nearby, you say? I am certain he can hardly wait to hold his new sword in his hands. What if I brought him the sword today, right now?”

“Didn’t the knight say he would pick it up and you shouldn’t give it to anyone else?” Isaac interrupted, joining the conversation.

But Ellen wouldn’t hear of it and waved him off.

“What he meant by that is any other messenger, of course, not the king himself!”

Isaac shrugged. “If that’s what you think…”

“The opportunity is just too great—I have to bring him the sword myself! If the messenger picks it up, no one will hear about me. But if I give it to the Young King myself, all the knights around him will see who made Runedur!” Ellen was getting very excited.

“Then at least let me come along,” Isaac pleaded apprehensively.

She shook her head defiantly. “No, I will go alone!” If she appeared in the company of a man, they would think he had made the sword. And in the end a legend would spring up about the one-armed smith who had forged the mythical sword Runedur. She didn’t want to risk that happening, no matter what.

“All right, if you say so!” Isaac looked at her, offended.

Ellen didn’t even notice. The idea that she would finally get the recognition she deserved made her heart beat even faster. This was her day! She took the sword, wrapped it in a blanket, and went back to the house to tell Rose and change clothes. Then she got her white horse, Loki, from the stable and mounted it.

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait for the sword to be picked up?” Isaac asked again, striving to assume a more conciliatory tone.

“No!” Ellen shook her head vigorously and would hear no further objections. Then she asked Peter to tell her where exactly she could find the king, and rode off.

On the great meadow near Mildenhall where the tents of the king and his entourage were pitched, hordes of squires, foot soldiers, and servants were still busy putting up tents and erecting fences for the horses. Everyone here seemed to have their hands full and paid no attention to Ellen, who rode at a leisurely pace through the camp, looking around closely. In the middle of the encampment she caught sight of an especially large, magnificent tent with a red pennant on top embroidered in gold depicting the lions rampant. That had to be the tent of the Young King! Ellen dismounted from her horse, Loki, and tied her to a post. Her hand trembled as she fondled Loki’s powerful white neck; for a moment she leaned her forehead against Loki’s neck, closing her eyes. She had to summon up all her courage! Taking a deep breath, she seized the sword resolutely and walked toward the colorful tent.

Even before she arrived, the curtain at the entrance moved aside and a handsome young knight came out. He stood in her way with his legs apart.

“I would like to see the king,” she demanded, a bit brashly owing to her excitement, and at once endeavored to smile warmly.

The knight looked her up and down with a sarcastic grin. “And what would you want from him?”

“I am bringing him his new sword, sire!”

The knight raised his eyebrows in astonishment. “Well, if that’s the case, it would be best for you to come with me.” He smiled briefly, turned around, and Ellen followed him into the tent. The royal quarters were even greater than she had assumed. Dozens of knights crowded around several large charcoal braziers. Ellen kept her head bowed modestly and observed the men out of the corner of her eye. They were drinking from silver goblets, talking excitedly, laughing loudly, and took no notice of her. Suddenly Ellen’s heart started pounding wildly. What if Thibault were also here? She had given no thought to him in making her decision to come here!

The young knight gestured for her to follow and walked directly to a richly decorated oaken throne on the other side of the tent. The throne was empty!

Ellen did not dare to look around for the king.

With an unexpected, vigorous leap, the young knight suddenly jumped up onto the throne and sat down.

Ellen was shocked, and some of the knights looked up in astonishment. She swallowed hard. It was clear the young knight wanted to make fun of her, but what would the king say about him sitting on the throne? She felt weak in the knees and stood there motionless and uncertain of what to do.

The young knight grinned and beckoned for her to come closer. As if on command, all conversation in the room stopped.

The knights gathered curiously around her, leaving only a narrow passageway to the throne. Someone pushed her forward.

“You are bringing me something?” Young Henry smiled mischievously. Clearly he enjoyed the look of surprise on her face. Ellen had never seen the Young King up close and had not recognized him! She turned beet-red and felt a hot flash passing through her body.

William was standing alongside his lord with his arm lying casually on the back of the throne. He looked serious and didn’t let it show that he knew Ellen. Only a slight quiver on one side of his mouth suggested how amusing he found the entire situation.

Thibault also stood nearby, but behind other knights so that Ellen was not able to see him. No one noticed how he had turned white as a sheet when he saw her. Ellen pulled herself together, stepped two paces closer to the throne, took a bow, and with arms outstretched handed the sword to the king.

“Well, let me see it!” the young man said impatiently, shuffling his feet like a child.

Ellen stood up, unwrapped the sword, and held it out to him. When the king saw it, he leaned forward quickly, grabbed hold of it with a broad smile, and held it up like a trophy for all to see. An enthusiastic cheer went up through the crowd. Young Henry inspected the sword, drew it slowly out of its scabbard, and weighed it in his hand without paying any attention to the decorative jewelry. All the knights clapped their approval on hearing the dark whirring sound the sword made when it cut through the air. Some of the knights were whispering excitedly among themselves. Henry examined the sword a bit more closely, then turned abruptly to William, holding it up so he could see it.

“There, look! It has the same sign as Athanor!” the Young King exclaimed. Now an even more excited murmur swept through the crowd.

“This sword is named Runedur, my lord,” Ellen spoke up, even though the Young King had not asked her. “I know I was supposed to give it to your messenger, but when I heard you had set up camp here, I could not resist bringing it to you in person.”

“Have you already been paid, or do I still owe you something?” Henry asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes to little slits, as he knew nothing about a messenger who had placed an order for a sword.

“Your payment was quite generous, my king, and there is no further payment to make.” Ellen smiled, and now young King Henry beamed as well.

Thibault, however, was trembling all over. “Why is Yqueboeuf not here?” he snapped at his squire.

“He is on a mission for the king, sire!” the boy whispered, lowering his eyes guiltily, though there was nothing he had done to arouse his master’s anger.

No one else noticed how upset Thibault was, though he could hardly keep himself from cursing out loud.

“Now tell us the name of the smith who has forged Runedur,” the king told Ellen, “so that everyone can hear!”

“It was I alone who fashioned the sword and all its parts. My name is Ellenweore, Your Highness!” Humbly she took a deep bow.

The murmuring in the crowd grew louder. Then young Henry raised his hand and the knights fell silent.

“Well, as some other kings are quite aware, women by this name are exceptionally strong!” Young Henry laughed and looked around for approval from his knights.

Most of them joined in the laughter, as always when the king was joking. Henry’s mother, Eleanor, the queen and duchess of Aquitaine, was notorious for making life hard for her former husband, the king of France, and later for her present husband, King Henry II, the father of the Young King. Her royal husband therefore had kept her in prison for years to thwart her intrigues against him. Such strong women were often a thorn in the flesh of many knights, but most of those present admired Eleanor for having stood up to the old king more than once.

Ellen did not know enough about her namesake to understand why the knights were laughing.

“Did you also forge Athanor?” the Young King inquired, leaning over a bit toward her.

“Yes, my lord, I did!” Ellen answered proudly.

“Well, if that’s the case, you will no doubt soon be receiving a lot of new orders for swords.” Henry’s admiration for his tutor was clearly evident. “Is your smithy here in the area?” He sat upright again and spread his legs far apart.

“In St. Edmundsbury, my lord!”

“Well, then, my thanks to you, Ellenweore of St. Edmundsbury, I am very pleased!” The king nodded graciously and smiled.

Ellen bowed once more. When she looked up, he had turned around and was talking with the knights standing around him. No one was paying attention to her anymore, and clearly she could go now. She bowed again and cast a surreptitious glance in William’s direction, but he was engrossed in a conversation with his lord and did not look at her.

After she had left the tent she breathed a contented sigh of relief and walked over to her horse. Now the noblest knights in the land knew who had forged the new sword for the king. Even though none of them had spoken to her, she hoped the Young King was right and that her abilities would soon be known far and wide in the realm. Exhausted from all the excitement, Ellen petted Loki’s neck for a while before mounting the horse and heading home.

Ellen remained in high spirits for weeks, and she didn’t know if it was because she had finally attained her goal of making a sword for the king or because she firmly believed that William had recommended her to young Henry. Even young Will noticed his mother’s good mood. She spoke more gently with him and scolded him less often. One day she motioned to him to come over, and she patted him on the head.

“Do you remember how angry I used to be when you were whittling with Isaac’s knife?”

Will nodded, but with some remorse. His mother didn’t know that since then he had been working regularly with Isaac’s knife.

“I think you are old enough now for your own. My father, Osmond, also gave me one when I was about as old as you are.”

Will’s gaze wandered to Ellen’s belt, on which a knife was hanging.

“Yes, that’s it. Since that day I have always had it with me. I’ve sharpened and polished it many, many times,” she said, smiling at her son and handing him a knife in a bright pigskin sheath.

Will took it out and examined it with admiration. Colorful wavy lines shimmered all along the blade, some of them looking like eyes.

“Oh, isn’t that beautiful,” he blurted out.

“This is what you call a Damascene blade. The colorful pattern comes from welding and folding several layers of iron of differing hardness. You can take different rods, too, twist them, and then weld them together,” Ellen explained.