On the Rocks

by Peter Rhodan

  The son nodded. "Dryffyd, be a good chap and bring in the old spare blower and set it up on that side for da to work please."

  "Shore ting Ceri." The fellow replied in a much broader accent than the blacksmith or his father had and disappeared outside. While the journeyman was gone Ceri manoeuvred his father a little to the left and forward of where he had been sitting. Dryffyd returned shortly with a smaller and older looking bellows which the two of them quickly set up. Ceri's dad was repositioned so that he could work the foot powered bellows with relative ease.

  Both Ceri's father and Dryffyd began working their bellows and Ceri held the strange metal in the coals as the fire grew hotter and hotter. He checked the metal periodically, occasionally adding a few more lumps of charcoal and at first Arturo was afraid that even with the second bellows the fire would still be inadequate but then he noticed the metal had changed colour a little. Not long after he thought that, Ceri drew the piece of metal out completely and gave it an exploratory bash with a hammer. He studied the stuff for a moment, shook his head in a negative manner and returned it to the coals.

  "Never seen the like." He said calmly but his eyes were glued to Arturo once he had it back in the coals.

  "You will be able to work it though?" Arturo queried.

  "Seems like it. But I'm not sure my da's up to too much of this." He nodded towards his father who was obviously labouring. Arturo promptly stepped around the forge and moved to the older man.

  "Sir?" He queried, and the older man understood his meaning and made way for him to take over the powering of the bellows.

  Ceri started working the metal a fair while after Arturo had swapped positions with the old man as the battle steel had finally gained a nice reddish yellow glow. At some point Oween relieved the journeyman and then a little later Ceri's da took back powering the second bellows from Arturo. Once it was workable things went quickly although it still took much hammering and re-heating before Ceri eventually turned most of the jagged lump of battle armour into a sword of thin but elegant shape pretty much in the same style as the one Oween already wore.

  They all stopped for dinner which Arturo offered to pay for but which Ceri insisted he and Oween had earned by helping with the bellows. It was a simple meal of some dry but edible bread like substance and a bowl of soup or stew, it being too thick to be called one and too thin for the other but welcome for all that. The stew or soup was served in wooden bowls and followed by beer in rough ceramic cups. Ceri's mother served the four men but no effort to join them and Arturo refrained from commenting although he noted the way the other males acted as if their patriarchal manner was inbred. Oween kept the talk to local matters during the meal, despite Ceri's obvious interest in the clearly foreign Arturo and his strange metal. Arturo had trouble following some of the conversation in the local tongue as their accents became stronger after a few beers but he managed to get the gist of the parts that he had to respond to. After dinner they returned to the forge and Ceri worked the small remaining piece of metal into a fine little dagger. Whilst he was doing this one of the men not working the bellows started honing the sword. This proved to be no easy task either but gradually the edge sharpened up, Oween putting the finishing touches to it claiming his expertise with swords meant he was the right choice for the tedious task.

  By the time Ceri had finished shaping the dagger Oween had managed to get the sword the way he wanted it and was sweating profusely. Whilst the journeyman Dryffyd started honing the dagger the others rested, apart from Oween who began making passes with the sword.

  "So, your original price still stands young sir?" Arturo asked the smith while watching Oween act like a trivid movie swordsman, although to be fair, he was a good deal better than Arturo, at least with a regular local style sword, and wouldn’t have made the flourishing motions with the sword in a real fight.

  "Oh, aye." Ceri said with a shrug. "My own fault for offering a price sight unseen. And it's not like you didn't try to warn me it wasn't normal metal!" He said ruefully shaking his head but with a grin as well.

  Arturo dug out a couple of small pieces of the gold he had chiselled off the manifold cover. "Make me a price on these." He said handing them to Ceri.

  Ceri studied the two pieces of gold closely then went over to the rough bench that ran along the back wall and moved some stuff to reveal what Arturo finally recognised as a primitive set of balance scales. He weighed the two pieces of gold and turned back to Arturo.

  "If you went to a money changer in Lugowalion or Eboracum you would be offered ten silver for the smaller and maybe thirty for the larger piece." He said levelly and with obvious sincerity although Arturo got the impression from his tone that he thought money changers were thieves. The tone Ceri used reminded Arturo of the sort of tone people back home used to describe used flitter salesmen. Some things were universal he decided.

  Arturo nodded. "So if I deduct your fee you could give me thirty nine silver for them. Yes?" He said smiling at Ceri. Ceri shook his head but smiled at the same time, holding up one hand as if in apology.

  "If I had that many silver, which I don't I'm afraid. I can give you eight silver and a couple of bronze for the smaller piece. The other you will have to trade elsewhere I'm sorry."

  Arturo pondered the matter then announced "Done." He then patted the young smith on his large shoulder although he was not exactly sure how to celebrate a friendly transaction. He would have to ask Oween later although the smith did not seem to mind the action.

  Ceri smiled. "Very well. Wait a moment and I will get the money." So saying he went through the arch to main house his mother had used to bring out the food and returned soon after with the coins.

  Dryffyd had finished the dagger and handed it to Arturo. Oween made no effort to hand the sword over to Arturo though, Arturo noted. Arturo studied the neat dagger for a moment and then looked up at Ceri.

  "I will have need of someone who can use his brains and knows honesty is the best policy." He said looking Ceri in the eye. "Where I come from we can do things that would make your hair stand on end. All manner of machines and such like but in order to make amazing things I will first need to make the tools to make the tools if you follow me?" He paused and waved his hand in a little twitch. "I intend to introduce some new things around here if I get the chance and to do so I will need a man who knows metals and has an open mind. Are you interested?" he asked the young blacksmith.

  Ceri ran a hand over his chin while he appeared to consider the outlander in front of him. Arturo realised he must present an odd appearance to the blacksmith, his stilted manner of speaking the local tongue and odd clothes must be giving the fellow cause for concern. He was not really present what could be called a ‘good front’.

  Oween, meanwhile, had returned to flourishing the sword around and just at this moment swung around too quickly, misjudging where he was in the small room. His swing brought the sword down onto the back end of the large iron block Ceri used for an anvil with a resounding loud metallic clang and Oween jumped back, the sword still in his hand peering at it in case he had damaged it. Arturo smiled as he noted that in the edge of the anvil there was now a small incision made by the edge of the sword while the sword itself did not look nicked or damaged at all.

  Dryffyd noticed and whistled as he came over to look at the anvil and then at the sword, which Oween was still holding, his expression dumbfounded. Ceri's father also hobbled over twisting his head to one side to peer at the cut and then smiled crookedly at his son giving the young man an infinitesimal nod.

  "And can you teach me to make metal like that?" Ceri asked finally, pointing to the sword and raising his eyebrows as he glanced at Arturo.

  Arturo shook his head. “In truth? Probably not in our lifetime I'm afraid. Eventually it can be made but it takes special additives and a totally different process to what I imagine is used here to make steel. By the time we make the tools to build the machines to make other machines to make the tools to, well you ge
t the idea. But I might be able to show you how to make good steel at a reasonable price." He said, hoping his school book knowledge of steelmaking would prove usable or at least translatable by someone with actual real world experience.

  "Hmm. An honest answer I feel. Steel at a reasonable price you say. Interesting.” He paused and looked at his father who nodded imperceptibly once more, a crooked smile on his face. “Very well Dominus Arturo. I would be willing to help you in your enterprise." He said firmly, having clearly made up his mind.

  "Good." Said Arturo, fingering the dagger he still held. He looked up at the young but burly blacksmith and smiled. "Here, you can have this." And with that held out the dagger hilt first. The blacksmith looked at Arturo, then down at the dagger and back at the foreigner. He reached out and took the proffered dagger and nodded solemnly.

  "I feel things could get very interesting around here." Ceri said after a moment and then smiled broadly, clapping Arturo on the back, the force of the blow jarring Arturo's teeth.

  Soon after their agreement the two left the blacksmith to his regular work and they headed up a track in the opposite direction to the one they had arrived on, with Oween full of plans to go to the tanner in Dervent and get a scabbard made for the sword. Arturo was vaguely thinking about a scabbard too, but designed to fit something a bit more to his liking than the sword Oween was so impressed with.

  Dervent turned out to be a small collection of the typical round buildings next to what Oween called a river but which Arturo thought was more like a muddy stream. The small town was dominated by the deserted Rufanig fort which had been built on the high ground on the opposite bank of the ‘river’ and which overlooked the junction of a couple of roads or lanes. It had obviously seen better days as much of it looked unkempt and showed clear signs of having been deserted for a long time as did several falling down buildings near it. Still it overlooked what was the biggest village or town Arturo had seen so far. As was the case with the small hamlets the first thing Arturo noticed as they neared was the smell. Sanitation and cleanliness were clearly lacking and lack of both combined to waft a stench downwind from the place, which happened to be the direction they were coming from of course. The increasingly leaden skies gave the village a dark look and the wood smoke rising from the houses hung low over the village while slowly being pushed east by a desultory breeze. He rather fancied with would start drizzling before long, which seemed to be the normal state in this area.

  The tanner had a building down near the river just downstream of the village proper but first Oween took Arturo along the packed earth path into the town itself. The damp but hard packed dirt gave a firm if slightly sticky footing as they wound between the houses. The ones on the outer edges backed onto small vegetable gardens whilst those further in were usually surrounded by scraggly weeds. The damp, odorous and oppressive atmosphere helped along by the low cloud cover which failed to rise above the nearby mountains caused Arturo to breathe through his mouth as much as possible.

  Oween led them to a small building in the middle of the town which functioned as a tavern. Arturo had not noticed it at first and unlike most of the other buildings which were the generic round houses, this building was square, or at least squarish. At the front facing the lane or road through the town it had a simple public bar area into which they entered via an always open doorway. Inside there was a stone bench behind which the tavern owner was standing talking to an old man leaning on the bench. There was a simple wooden table against the righthand wall with a rustic bench type seat on each side running at ninety degrees to the wall. Given the small bar area compared to the size of the building Arturo guessed the man lived on premises, the living areas being reached by an open doorway in the wall behind the tavern keeper. Presumably there was some hidden method of barring the outer or at least the inner door at night.

  Oween ordered them a jug of mead and after checking with Arturo whether he was hungry, added some cheese and bread and they took possession of the bench seats and the table. The tavern keeper brought them over two wooden cups and an earthenware container with the mead. Arturo noted that the man at the counter had his wooden cup refilled by what looked a ladle from a container of some drink set into the surface of the bar. It was all rather rustic and odd looking to Arturo but a bar was still a bar in any galaxy he guessed.

  “So the point of this is?” Arturo asked not at all sure why they had come here rather than head straight to the tanner's, although the prospect of some food was not unacceptable. Exactly what the local cheese would be like was anyone’s guess. It could very well be quite good or at least no worse than mediocre, rather than inedible, going on past experience on primitive planets. Reasonable cheese seemed to be something most places managed to produce regardless of how far the tech level had declined and in many cases it was often far less bland and processed than the cheese on more civilised planets. The bread on the other hand could be extremely variable or so Arturo had found in the past. Still he was stuck here and his ration bars would not last long if he tried to live on them alone and at least his nanos should keep him healthy despite the unsanitary surroundings the village or town offered. The table did not seem to have been washed properly in a long time as Arturo could see bits of unidentifiable stuff stuck in nicks and the joints between the planks used to construct it.

  “Give it a few moments.” Oween said enigmatically sitting with a sly grin on his face and apparently unconcerned with his surroundings although after a moment Arturo noticed his companion was surreptitiously watching the entry doorway as if expecting someone.

  And sure enough within a few minutes three men entered the tavern. The foremost was of mid height and rather stocky, sandy haired and perhaps forty years old, wearing a leather vest over the woollen shirt and trousers that Arturo was coming to recognise as the normal attire for most men hereabouts and with both a sword and a dagger at his waist. He came over to the table and halted, the two younger men, both tough looking and similarly attired, followed him over and took station to either side of and a little behind the older man. One was sandy haired and looked like a younger version of the lead man while the other was thinner, dark haired and had a long scar on his right cheek.

  “So Oween, you have a short memory I take it?” The stocky man asked taking a belligerent stance in front of the two seated men.

  “Of course not Meries. I came here with my new master. Arturo Sandus meet Meries Lukius Constantius. Meries is the Decurion of Dervent, officially even.” He said with a smirk. “Meries doesn’t like me much and told me not to come back this year. The last time we saw each other that was.” He paused for second watching the expression on the stocky man’s face closely. “He’s also me cousin, although he tries to avoid admitting it with all his Rufanig airs.” He finished. Arturo could see the tightness around the man's mouth at what he guessed were a whole string of subtle insults.

  “Still got your smart mouth I see.” Meries said but despite the tightness around his mouth he didn’t seem to be overly upset by Oween’s presence. “Well you are either a fool or very brave to take my cousin into your service.” He kept his eye on Oween while directing his words to Arturo, the fellow's face taking on a slight frown while doing so. “We don’t want no trouble hereabouts so no stealing, raping or murdering. If you have a problem, you think someone’s trying to cheat or whatever, then you come see me and I’ll sort it. Do not try to sort out problems yourself. You understand?”

  Judging the man was quite serious Arturo answered plainly. “Yes. I understand. I want no trouble.” Then decided to lighten things up and smiled at the fellow. “I’ll even do my best to keep this fellow in line.” He offered, nodding at Oween. “Although I have to admit there are times when I’m not sure who the master is.” He said grinning.

  “Ha. That’ll be Oween.” Meries said with a grin as well. Then he sobered. “So what brings you to Dervent?” He enquired.

  “Here to see the tanner." Oween said. "Need a scabbard for this." A
t which remark he promptly produced the battle steel sword and plonked in on the bench, the battle steel shimmering in the natural light of the tavern.

  Meries whistled in appreciation taking a good look at it. "So who did you rob?" He asked, half suspiciously, but half jokingly as well, Arturo decided after a moment. It said interesting things about Oween that Meries was only half joking.

  Oween laughed and bowed in Arturo's direction. "My mighty master here gave it to me to use in his service, for smiting the unfriendly and for use especially against untrusting cousins." He smirked.

  “Yeah, yeah. And we all know what happened last time we crossed swords.” Oween’s cousin said half mockingly and half seriously.

  “Okay.” Oween turned to Arturo. “I was tired, unwell and didn’t want to hurt a family member. So he took advantage of me. No proper family feeling he has.”

  Meries shook his head but then ventured for Arturo’s benefit. “I only cut him a little, on his sword arm. He left out he was drunk as a pechti into the bargain.” The man sneered at Oween.

  Arturo nodded understanding, smiling at Oween's cousin. Oween spluttered. “Was not drunk, I was hung over. Different thing entirely. And a cousin shouldn’t be pinking his blood relatives. Ain’t got that many to start with!”

  Meries laughed but then got serious again. “Seeing you are gainfully employed I won’t throw you out of town but behave, right?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Be assured I will behave myself coz.” And after a hard look at his cousin followed by a nod to Arturo, Meries and his two bully boys departed.

  The visit to the tanner was short. He promised to have a scabbard for Oween by midday the next day so the two found lodgings with an acquaintance of Oween’s. The round house was in fair order, Arturo supposed, although he decided hard packed dirt floors would take some getting used to. At least it was warm and dry, the central hearth providing plenty of heat besides providing a place for cooking a stew like meal the owner shared with them. The inside was divided by hanging skins into several rooms and Arturo shared one with Oween, sleeping on a straw pallet that was not as uncomfortable as he anticipated it would be although he found himself coved in little red welts in the morning which showed the two men weren’t the only occupants of the bed. The following morning they visited the town’s blacksmith who was much older and more experienced than Ceri but seemed unwilling to share information with the two of them. Whether this was because of a natural reserve or because Oween had once been a would-be suitor of the man’s daughter Arturo wasn’t sure. Anyway, he did elicit the information that the man could make copper pipes, if of a rather short length and not cheaply.