Tempered Steel

by Paul J Bennett

  A sound startled her out of her reverie, and she turned to see Ludwig standing there once more.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to alarm you. I’ve returned with your payment.”

  “You could have waited until tomorrow. Now you have to ride home in darkness.”

  “Nonsense. I promised I'd return, and I always keep my word. Besides, I’ve ridden in the dark many a time in the past.”

  “How do you find your way?”

  “Haven’t a clue,” Ludwig admitted. “I’m usually too drunk to notice, but I rather suspect it’s due to the stellar qualities of my horse.”

  “Then you are lucky in that regard. A good horse is a gift.”

  “More wisdom from your Calabrian forebearers?”

  “Yes, how did you know?”

  “Call it a guess. Any other words of horse wisdom you’d care to impart?”

  “Yes,” she added. “A fool and his horse are soon parted.”

  “Isn’t that supposed to be ‘a fool and his gold’?”

  “Is it? I like mine better.”

  “Fair enough.” He dug out a purse and counted out some coins. “Here you are,” he said, offering them to her.

  Charlaine moved closer, holding out her hand to accept the payment. He dropped the golden crowns into her palm.

  “There you are,” he said. “Paid in full.”

  “You only had to pay half in advance."

  “It’s fine. It’s not like I don’t know where you work.”

  “True enough,” she agreed.

  “When will it be done, do you think?”

  “Another day or two. I still have to make the handle, not to mention the pommel.”

  “Can you arrange for delivery?” Ludwig said. “I only ask because my father’s got me quite busy for the next few days.”

  “Certainly. I’ll bring it to the keep once it's finished.”

  “That would be most appreciated. Will you need a horse?”

  “I have a horse," she said. "How do you think I got there the first time?”

  “To be quite honest, I thought you walked. I had no idea you were wealthy enough to own horses.”

  “We own a single horse, not a whole herd. My father’s had Emerald for years.”

  “Emerald?”

  “Yes, our horse. She's named for the colour of her eyes.”

  “Your horse has green eyes?” he said. “That’s extremely rare.”

  “Not where he came from. It’s quite common back in Calabria.”

  “You’re full of surprises, Charlaine deShandria.”

  “As are you, Ludwig Altenburg.”

  6

  The Dagger

  Summer 1094 SR

  * * *

  A light breeze blew in from the south, enough to keep the heat at bay as Charlaine eased Emerald into a slow trot, making her way through the village of Verfeld. A bit of movement up ahead at the base of the keep drew her attention. It appeared a couple of soldiers were practising their fighting techniques.

  Bringing her horse to a stop, she dismounted and stretched her legs, then soothed the animal by rubbing its forehead.

  “What have we here?” came a voice. One of the men had broken off from the practice and was walking towards her.

  “That,” said the familiar voice of Ludwig Altenburg, “is Charlaine deShandria.”

  “Well, how do you do, Charlaine?” the first man asked.

  She looked him over. He was a little older than Ludwig but stood with the self-assurance of one comfortable with his role in life.

  “I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said.

  “That's my loss. I am Kurt Wasser. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

  “I’m afraid not. Why? Should I have?”

  Ludwig laughed. “She’s got you there, Kurt.” He moved closer. "You’ll have to forgive him. He thinks the Saints have sent him here to please all the women in the kingdom.”

  “I do my best,” said Kurt. “It’s a calling, really.”

  “Then I suggest you look elsewhere,” said Charlaine. “You won’t have much success with me.”

  “That sounds like a challenge,” said Kurt.

  “That’s enough,” said Ludwig, a sharp edge to his voice.

  “Sorry, my lord.”

  Charlaine smiled. “I thought you said you weren’t to be addressed as 'Lord'?”

  “I’m afraid you have me on that one,” he admitted.

  “You’ve evidently met before,” said Kurt.

  “We have,” said Ludwig. “Charlaine, here, is a smith. I commissioned her to forge a dagger for me.”

  “A dagger? We have plenty lying around the keep? Why in the Saint's name would you commission a new one?”

  “It’s really more of a long knife,” he confessed.

  “I have it here,” said Charlaine. “Would you like to see the final product?”

  “Yes, please."

  She withdrew a wrapped bundle from behind her saddle and handed it over.

  Ludwig untied the string that bound the cloth, then unwrapped it, anticipation written all over his face. The knife lay within, a simple leather scabbard protecting its blade.

  “You made a scabbard?” he said. “I thought you didn’t do leatherwork?”

  “I don’t, but I know someone that does. That’s the advantage of being in a guild.”

  “Guilds,” said Kurt with a shudder. “Don’t get me started on those things.”

  “What’s wrong with a guild?” Charlaine asked.

  “It defies nature. Men and women are born to serve a master. To do anything else is absolute nonsense.”

  “I shall not argue the merits of it with you,” said Charlaine, “but suffice it to say that the guild has been very good to my family.”

  Ludwig, who had fallen silent as he examined the new weapon, now placed it back in its protective sheath. “It’s extraordinary,” he said. “How did you get the blade so shiny?”

  “It’s a trade secret,” she replied.

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

  “She looks like she could do it, too,” said Kurt. “Look at the arms on her!”

  “She IS a smith, Kurt, what did you expect.”

  “I suspect she’d make a decent soldier, given the opportunity,” the swordmaster added. “What about it, Charlaine? Care to give it a try?”

  “I’m no warrior,” she said.

  “Come on,” urged Ludwig. “Let me show you some basic moves. It’s the least I can do.”

  “Very well. Let me quickly tie up Emerald here.” She led the horse over to the stables.

  Kurt whistled. “You sure can pick them, Ludwig. She’s a beauty.”

  “She's not a conquest,” said Ludwig, with a little more venom than he had intended.

  “Truly? Then why is she here?”

  “She fascinates me,” the young lord confessed, “but not in the way you think.”

  “What way is that?”

  “She's not an object of desire,” Ludwig clarified.

  “But you can’t deny she’s attractive, in a foreign sort of way, I mean.”

  “What on the Continent do you mean by that?”

  “Well, look at her,” said Kurt. “She’s obviously a Calabrian, and that’s considered quite exotic in these parts.”

  “If you say so, but I’m more interested in what’s going on inside.”

  “Inside her clothes?”

  “No, her mind.”

  “Have you gone completely mad, Ludwig? You could have any maiden this side of the river. Why in the Saint's name would you settle for a foreigner?”

  “I didn’t say I was in love with her, but neither can I say I’ve ever met anyone quite like her.” Ludwig passed over the dagger. “What do you make of this?”

  Kurt examined it carefully. “Impressive work. Are you sure she made it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, de
ar friend, that her father likely made it.”

  “I highly doubt that,” said Ludwig. “I watched her do most of the work myself.”

  “You watched her work? That’s unusual for you.”

  Ludwig was about to say more, but Charlaine had returned, her horse now settled away.

  “Let’s find you a weapon first,” he said, leading her over to a small barrel. He fished through the collection, removing a wooden practice sword. “This will do nicely, I should think.”

  Ludwig handed the weapon to Charlaine, who looked at it dubiously. The basics of holding a sword were simple enough, but how did she wield such a weapon?

  “It’s all rather simple, really,” said Ludwig. “You can use the point to stab out, or the edge to slash if you prefer.”

  “I’m fully aware of how a sword works,” said Charlaine. “I’ve been making them for some time. What I don’t know is the basic techniques.”

  “I can help you with that,” offered Kurt. “That’s my job, after all.” He moved in closer, trying to place an arm around her waist. She grabbed his wrist and twisted, driving him to the ground in agony.

  Ludwig laughed at his companion's dilemma. “Where did you learn that manoeuvre?” he asked.

  “My mother always insisted that I should learn to look after myself,” she said.

  “Stop,” begged Kurt. “You’re going to break my wrist.”

  She released her grip, and Kurt rolled away to put some distance between them.

  “Now,” said Ludwig, holding out a sword. “Watch me and do what I do.”

  He stepped forward, placing his right foot in front with his sword held before him at a slight angle. “This position,” he explained, “extends your reach and prepares you to react should your opponent attack. Now you try.”

  She did as he had demonstrated but found the stance quite uncomfortable.

  “Move your leg back a bit, you’re over-reaching. It’ll put you off balance.”

  She corrected her stance. “Now what?”

  “Now I'll show you some basic elements."

  “Basic elements?”

  “When you became a smith, did you start by forging a sword?”

  “No, I had to master some basic skills first. I can still remember when I made my first nail.”

  “There you have it,” said Ludwig with a smile. “Consider this to be your first nail.”

  * * *

  The day wore on, and Charlaine had to admit to herself that she found the sword practice exhilarating. As a smith, she had developed a well-defined set of muscles, and now, with these movements, she found her body responding quickly to the new requirements of fighting.

  “You’re a natural at this,” said Ludwig. “Most take months to master the basics.”

  “I’d hardly say I've mastered them."

  “True enough, but you’ve made remarkable progress.”

  “I think that’s enough for today,” interrupted Kurt. “We’ll soon be losing the light.”

  “Is it that late already?” said Ludwig. “I completely lost track of time. Tell me, Charlaine, can I tempt you with a drink before you head back to Malburg?”

  “That would be nice. Thank you,” she replied.

  “Come then. Let us adjourn to the keep.”

  “Shall I gather her horse?” asked Kurt.

  “If you would be so kind,” said Ludwig.

  He started up the steps to the keep, Charlaine rushing to catch up. They were soon walking side-by-side, a move that would have shocked her mother, for a noble and a commoner were not equals.

  “You did well today,” he said. “Have you ever considered learning to fight?”

  “Why would I? I’m a smith, not a warrior.”

  “True, but even a smith might have to defend herself on occasion.”

  “I haven’t the time,” she confessed. “Even making time today was a chore. While I'm here, I have work piling up at the smithy.”

  “Doesn’t your father still work?”

  “Not much, I’m afraid, he’s getting old.”

  “Still, he must be proud to see it runs in the family.”

  “He certainly is,” Charlaine said. “As a matter of fact, it’s all he seems to talk about these days.”

  They walked through the entry room she remembered from her first visit, and then Ludwig halted, nodding at a set of double doors. “Straight through there is the great hall,” he said. “Go ahead and make yourself at home. I just need to change, and then I’ll meet you there. Don’t worry, it’s not in use today.”

  Ludwig vanished through a doorway, leaving Charlaine all alone with her thoughts. She had only intended to deliver the knife, but now she found herself sharing a drink with the baron’s son. The doors stood there, beckoning. She drew closer, straining to catch any hint of noise from within, but all was quiet. Convinced that no one else was around, she pushed open the doors, revealing the largest room of the keep.

  Bare tables sat along the far wall, keeping them out of the way until needed. A dozen chairs were also present, though they, too, were stacked and piled against the wall.

  She wandered over, selecting one and lifting it from its place of rest. Another glance around the room told her it was otherwise empty, and she let out a breath of air, trying to relax. She sat, listening as distant sounds echoed through the keep.

  A pair of boots echoed on the stone floor, halting just outside the door. Charlaine watched as the door swung open, expecting to see Ludwig. Instead, she met the stern countenance of the baron, Lord Frederick.

  “What’s this now?” he said. “What are YOU doing here?”

  Charlaine wanted to explain, but before a single sound could come out of her mouth, the mighty lord hurled more words her way.

  “How dare you have the audacity to sit in my great hall,” he roared. “You have been paid for your services, but that doesn’t give you permission to make free use of my home! Begone from here at once!” His face turned crimson as he berated her, and Charlaine wondered if he might be having a seizure.

  “Piltz!” he bellowed. “Get down here immediately!”

  She opened her mouth to speak once more, but the baron held up his finger. “Don’t say a word,” he commanded.

  Lord Frederick’s aide appeared at the door. “My lord?”

  “See this woman out, Kasper, and make sure she never darkens these halls again.”

  Kasper Piltz looked on in sympathy. “Of course, my lord. Madame, if you’ll come with me, I’ll show you the door.”

  “Very well,” Charlaine managed to squeak out. She followed him, leaving the baron alone with his indignation.

  * * *

  Ludwig was still pulling on his shirt as he descended the stairs. The practice had gone well, and he had been thoroughly exhausted, but now, after a quick wash and fresh clothes, he felt reinvigorated. With a spring in his step, he entered the great hall, but that spring evaporated the moment he saw his father waiting in an otherwise uninhabited room.

  “What’s the meaning of this, Ludwig!” Frederick demanded.

  He looked at the flushed face of his father and knew he was about to be raked over the coals. He decided to feign ignorance.

  “I don’t understand,” he said

  The baron moved closer, the ever familiar finger pointing directly at him. “By the Saints, you know exactly what I’m talking about. You had a woman in here. That cannot be tolerated.”

  “You have women in here all the time. Why, only last week, you had the prioress in here for dinner.”

  “That’s different, and well you know it,” snapped the baron. “You are not to bring that commoner back here again, do you hear me?”

  “She is a smith,” said Ludwig, “and was delivering a knife I had commissioned. You did the very same thing yourself.”

  “Don’t try to turn this on me, boy. You didn’t just invite this woman here to get a dagger, I know your mind. If you want to go whoring, that’s your business, but never, ever, brin
g them back here to Verfeld Keep!”

  Ludwig had faced this type of abuse far too often in the past. He moved closer, his own face turning the same crimson as his father's. “Must I remind you,” he snarled, “I’m not a boy anymore. If you continue to treat me as such, I shall be forced to demand satisfaction!”

  “You wouldn’t dare!” thundered Frederick.

  “Wouldn’t I?” Ludwig stared back, their eyes locked in a test of wills. He was determined to finally confront his father, and, much to his surprise, it was the baron that broke his gaze first.

  “I’ll admit I might have overreacted,” said Frederick, “but the very thought of that…woman being here infuriates me.”

  “I don’t understand. What’s changed?” said Ludwig, his temper receding. “You didn’t have a problem with her when she brought my sword the other day.”

  “Had I known she would be the agent of delivery, I would have made other arrangements.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with her?”

  “You wouldn’t understand,” grumbled the baron.

  “Then explain it to me.”

  Lord Frederick stared at his son a moment as if trying to decide on a course of action. He finally nodded, though more in satisfaction of having made up his mind. “Son,” he began, “you have lived a relatively sheltered life here in Hadenfeld. We have been blessed with peace for many years.”

  “I know, Father, but what’s that got to do with anything?”

  “The people of this realm are peaceful and friendly, but it is not so in other lands.”

  “I’m not sure I see where this is going."

  “Bear with me,” his father replied. “War often drives people from their homes. Not just regular folk, but undesirables as well.”

  “Undesirables?”

  “Yes,” the baron continued. “The dregs of society will often flee at the first sign of trouble. They prey on the others, you see, taking advantage of them.”

  “I still don’t see what you’re getting at.”

  “That woman…”