Tempered Steel

by Paul J Bennett

“I’ve always found learning difficult. Well, ever since my mother died.”

  “You said she died ten years ago,” she said. “You must have been what, fifteen?”

  “Yes, and I felt her loss keenly. When I was younger, she would fill my head with all these marvellous tales about adventuring knights and valorous deeds.”

  “And so a knight naturally becomes your backup choice for a career?”

  “Yes, I suppose so,” he said. “I’ve always liked the idea of the knight errant, wandering the land and doing good deeds. My father recently hinted that he might let me join the Crusades one day.”

  “That surprises me. I would have thought he’d want to keep you close. You are the heir, after all.”

  “It’s true, but being the first in line to be baron can be lonely.”

  “And yet,” Charlaine said, “from what I’ve heard, you have no problem finding companionship.”

  “That’s my position again,” Ludwig admitted. “If it weren’t for my father’s title, I’d be a nobody.”

  “We all have to make our own way in life.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Saint Agnes.”

  “Advice from a long-dead Saint?”

  “They aren’t called Saints for nothing,” she said. “They offer us guidance in our daily lives, allowing us to live life to its fullest.”

  “You find that comforting?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “I don’t know that I’d like some dead prophet telling me how to live my life.”

  “They don’t command us,” she insisted. “They offer us their wisdom. Wisdom, which I might add, was earned by what they went through. Do you not pay attention in church?”

  “I was never much of a religious zealot.”

  “Zealot? Is that what you think I am? My faith sustains me, it doesn’t control me. Followers of Saint Agnes do not blindly follow her way.”

  “I didn’t mean to cause offense,” Ludwig said. “I’m simply trying to understand.”

  “The ability to question is what makes the Saints divine. They fought against the same rigid thinking in Herani.”

  “Yes, yes, I know the story. They united to defend the pilgrims travelling to the Holy Land.”

  “It’s far more than that,” Charlaine added. “They acted when the High Lord of Herani refused. If not for them, the entire land would have been embroiled in war.”

  “I don’t remember that from the sermons.”

  “You were likely asleep, then. The prioress is quite the orator.”

  “Prioress Ophelia?” he said.

  “Yes, you know her?”

  “She’s been to the keep once or twice. I found her to be incredibly boring.”

  “Because she didn’t talk about fighting?” she asked.

  “Because she spent all her time talking to my stepmother.”

  “That’s her job, Ludwig. The Temple of Saint Agnes is dedicated to helping women.”

  “I suppose I never looked at it that way,” he revealed.

  “But you’re a member of the nobility, you must attend church? Which temple do you frequent? Saint Mathew?”

  “It varies depending on where we are,” said Ludwig. “My father prefers to have no direct affiliation, worshipping whichever Saint best suits his needs at the moment.”

  “Then it's time you picked.”

  “Which one should I pick?”

  “Whichever one you wish.”

  “There are only two temples in Malburg, Mathew and Agnes.”

  “Yes,” Charlaine agreed, “but should you wish it, the Church would send a Holy Father of whatever order you wished to your keep. Would you prefer Saint Cunar? His order’s much more militant, you’d probably like that.”

  “I think I would. I’ve always found the Temple Knights fascinating.”

  “They’re not all Temple Knights. Most of the order are mere lay brothers, doing the work of their Saint.”

  “I know that,” he said, “but the knights are far more interesting. Perhaps that’s what I’d be if I couldn’t be the baron.”

  “A Temple Knight?”

  “Yes, why not?”

  “It’s as good a choice as any,” she replied. “Though I fear it would take rigorous study of their teachings.”

  “I could handle that,” he said, though there was little conviction in his voice.

  “And,” she added, “you’d have to be an expert horseman.”

  “I can ride as well as any man!”

  “Perhaps,” she responded, digging in her spurs, “but can you ride as well as a Calabrian woman?”

  She tore off across the field, leaving Ludwig to catch up.

  * * *

  They soon reached the Wandering Hills. The terrain here was quite rough, with steep inclines and occasional ravines, but their horses managed well enough. It was mid-afternoon when they first spotted the ruins off in the distance. They had topped a rise, revealing a shallow valley below, but on the other side was a prominent mound, atop which sat the stones.

  They descended into the valley, picking their way through rocky terrain where the hill had partially collapsed. Up the incline they went until they halted before the ancient ruins. Charlaine dismounted, then moved towards the stones, laying her hands upon their smooth surface.

  “It’s covered in symbols,” she said.

  “Likely runes. It’s what they used back in the days of the empire.”

  “Could it be magic?”

  “Here?” said Ludwig. “In the middle of nowhere? I think that unlikely.”

  “If the stones are as old as you say, it seems likely there was once something of value here.”

  “Anything is possible, but I doubt it. When the Therengians were driven out, not much was left of their village. Malburg is built on its ruins.”

  “I didn’t realize that, but what I’d really like to know is how they got that stone up top in the first place.”

  “Who knows?” he said. “Then again, look at Verfeld Keep. I imagine primitives looking at that might be overwhelmed by its presence.”

  “That’s true, but the keep is made of smaller blocks of stone. This, on the other hand, is one massive block.”

  “A good point, I suppose. How do you think they did it?”

  “Magic?” suggested Charlaine.

  “They say magic can do a lot of things, but lift a stone of this size?”

  Charlaine walked through the two upright stones. “This does look like a giant door,” she said. “I wonder if there used to be other stones here?”

  “Like a giant stone house? If there was, they’ve been gone for a long time.”

  Charlaine was running her fingers over the runes. “I feel like we’re in the presence of something…”

  “Unexplainable?” Ludwig offered.

  “I was going to say mystical.”

  “They’re only rocks. Interesting, but not highly practical. And why build them here, of all places, stuck out in the middle of some hills?”

  “I wonder if there's something important about this location?” she suggested. “Some form of magical energy, perhaps?”

  “It’s as good an explanation as any, I suppose.” His words trailed off as he stared at the ground.

  “When did you first discover this place?” she asked. When Ludwig failed to respond, Charlaine looked over at him, noticing his intense concentration. “Something wrong?”

  “Tracks,” he said. “Fresh ones, too.”

  “Is that noteworthy? There’s likely lots of animals hereabouts.”

  “These aren’t animal tracks, but something else. Probably an Orc.”

  “Here? So close to Verfeld?”

  “The Orcs have no respect for property,” declared Ludwig. “It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve found them hunting in our lands.”

  “There’s enough food to feed everyone, isn't there?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “That’s precise
ly the point,” Charlaine insisted. “Tell me, do you lack for food?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Then what harm is there if an Orc kills a deer or two?”

  “It’s the principle,” he responded. “The very idea that they might wander in and take what they want.”

  “And if they asked, would your father let them hunt here?”

  “No, most definitely not.”

  “Then the Orcs have a lot in common with me,” she said.

  “How is that?”

  “It’s like I said earlier, better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission.”

  “You have a sharp mind,” said Ludwig. “Far sharper, it would seem, than me.”

  “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”

  “Perhaps you’re right.” Ludwig was still staring at the ground.

  “Do we need to worry?” Charlaine asked. “Are Orcs dangerous in these parts?”

  “Aren’t they always?”

  “I don’t know. I’m told they lived in peace with Calabria.”

  “Likely because of the size of your army,” he said. “Orcs fear power.”

  “Know a lot about them, do you?”

  “No, but I’ve heard the stories.”

  “What do you want to do now?” she asked.

  “We should return. I’ll have to tell my father about these footprints.”

  “And what will that accomplish?”

  “He’ll likely send out a patrol of soldiers. They won’t find anything, but at least they’ll make a show of it.”

  “A show for who?”

  “The villagers,” said Ludwig. “They need to be reassured that my father is looking after their best interests.”

  “By running off Orcs?”

  “People lose sleep when they think Orcs are creeping around. Sending out troops will make them feel protected.”

  “Even though they won’t find anything?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Better to do something ineffective than do nothing at all.”

  “Wise words. Whose are they?”

  “My father's, believe it or not.”

  “At least we had a pleasant trip,” she said. “But I suppose you’re right, we should get going.”

  Charlaine walked back to her horse, pulling herself into the saddle. She waited as Ludwig mounted up, then turned Emerald south, descending once more into the valley.

  9

  Motherly Advice

  Summer 1094 SR

  * * *

  It was dark by the time Charlaine returned home, having first ridden to the keep to alert the baron to the presence of the Orcs. She had hoped Ludwig would accompany her to Malburg, but it looked like his father had other ideas, for the young noble was ordered to return to the hills with some of the baron’s soldiers.

  Now she found herself stripping off the saddle of poor Emerald, who looked exhausted.

  “Where have you been?” came her father's voice, startling her.

  “Out riding,” she replied. “We went into the hills to the north.”

  “We?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I was with Ludwig.”

  “Lord Ludwig?” Tomas asked.

  “Of course. Is there another Ludwig I don’t know about?”

  “Don’t get clever with me, Charlaine. You gave your mother quite a shock.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” he continued, “that she was worried sick about you.”

  “She’s always worried about me.”

  “Yes, but this time you were gone all afternoon, without a word to either of us.”

  “Sorry. I hadn’t intended to, but the weather was so nice we decided to go riding.”

  “You had to come and get the horse,” Tomas said. “It’s not like you couldn’t have ducked inside and told us what you were up to.”

  “True, but I was worried you might not give me permission.”

  “And so you thought you’d just take Emerald?”

  “You know what mother’s like,” she said. “Can you blame me?”

  “You’re not a child anymore, Charlaine.”

  “And yet you still treat me like one from time to time.”

  “Can you blame us? You’re our only daughter. It’s our job to look after you. We can’t do that if you're off riding around the countryside.”

  “I’m a grown woman,” Charlaine insisted.

  “Then act like one. Now get inside. Your mother’s waiting for you.”

  “I have to brush down Emerald.”

  Tomas held out his hand. “Give me the brush. I’ll take care of the horse. You get inside and see your mother.”

  Charlaine passed it over, and headed inside, overwhelmed by an intense feeling of doom.

  Her mother sat in a chair, sewing a piece of cloth. “What have you been up to?” Estelle asked, her voice clipped.

  Charlaine could sense the danger lurking in her mother's words. Knowing she could no longer avoid the inevitable, she dove in headfirst. “I was out riding with Ludwig.”

  Her mother's eyes widened. “He's a noble,” she said.

  “And what of it?”

  “It is not your station in life to be in the company of such a man.”

  “We went riding, Mother, nothing more.”

  “You are treading particularly dangerous waters, Charlaine.”

  “Why? Just because Ludwig is a noble? We’re only friends.”

  Estelle deShandria sighed. “It’s much more than that, daughter. Come. Sit down. It’s time you and I had a real talk.”

  “I won’t be lectured,” Charlaine insisted.

  “And I wouldn’t dream of doing so, but you have led a sheltered life. It’s high time you were told a thing or two.”

  Charlaine took a seat, though relaxing was the farthest thing from her mind. “Very well.”

  “Nobles are so much different from us,” her mother began.

  “I know. I’ve been told a number of times. I understand, I truly do.”

  Estelle held her hands up. “Hear me out, then you may say whatever you wish.”

  Charlaine wanted to bite back, say anything to stop her mother from the lecturing but knew it would be to no avail. “Sorry, continue.”

  “As I was saying, the life of a noble is decidedly different from ours, especially when it concerns members of the opposite sex. Ludwig, as a lord, is expected to be experienced in the matters of…” Estelle struggled for the right word, “… physical intimacy. However, for a woman, such experience is considered undesirable.”

  “So you’re saying that he can go out whoring. I know that, Mother.”

  “Let me finish, Charlaine. When a woman is seen in the company of such men, they are often branded as a particular type of person. Either they are seeking fortune through marriage, or are looking for more physical pleasures.”

  Charlaine watched her mother struggling to explain, but sat, tight-lipped, unwilling to help her.

  “I don’t want you to be seen as a harlot,” her mother said at last.

  “And you think those are the only two options?”

  “I know how people think, Charlaine. They’ll make their own opinions based on what they observe.”

  “And so you think they’ll label me as a whore? And what if they did. Is that so bad? At least a whore makes a living.”

  “It would destroy your chances of becoming a wife!” Estelle said.

  “Why?”

  “Because no one wants a soiled woman.”

  “Soiled? Is that what we’re calling it now? Please make up your mind. All these terms are confusing me.”

  “It doesn’t matter what we call it,” Estelle said. “The point is that your relationship with Ludwig, whatever it is, will ruin your reputation.”

  “So what?”

  “Your reputation is everything! Do you think people will come to the smithy if they think you’re of loose morals?”

  “I haven’t slept with him, Mother!”


  “Then make sure you don’t!” Estelle yelled.

  The silence in the room was overwhelming, yet Charlaine swore her heart was pounding so loudly her mother must be able to hear it!

  “All I’m saying, my dear, is that you need to be careful. I know that sometimes the heart can lead you astray.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  Estelle looked down at her own hands, unwilling to make eye contact. “A long time ago, before I met your father, there was another man.”

  This was new, thought Charlaine. “Go on.”

  “We were both young. He was a cavalero, while I was a simple baker’s daughter.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because it took me years to overcome the shame when he rejected me. I was spat on in public and called vicious, spiteful names, all because I dared love someone above my station. And it wasn’t only me, my entire family was forced to bear that humiliation.”

  “I didn’t know,” said Charlaine. “You never mentioned it before.”

  “I’m sorry. It's a shame I’ve carried for years.”

  “What about Father? Does he know?”

  Estelle shook her head. “No, I’ve never told him. My family lived in Brochas at the time. The shame was so great I ended up moving to Alantra. That’s where I eventually met your father.”

  Charlaine sat in silence, watching as tears rolled down her mother's cheeks. Reaching out, she grasped her mother's hand, which squeezed back.

  Estelle wiped her eyes. “I thought you should know.”

  “Thank you for telling me. I think I understand you better for knowing.”

  “I only wish for your happiness, but your choices will affect others. No one stands alone, especially in a community as small as ours.”

  “Fair enough,” said Charlaine, “but I can assure you that Ludwig and I are not lovers.”

  “So you say, and yet I see the hope in your eyes when you mention his name. You ran out of here today to be with him. You might not be sleeping with him, but he's already captured your heart.”

  Charlaine withdrew her hand, stunned by the revelation. Did she love Ludwig? It was too early to tell, wasn't it? And what if he did reject her? Everything crystallized in her mind in that instant. It had been so short a time since they had met, and yet, now she couldn’t stand the thought of being rejected by him.