Hertha looked up from her studied examination of a box of nails, a gate hinge and a small eating knife. The double doors to the armory and forge swung open in a manner suggesting someone was not totally at ease that day.
“Did you get out of the wrong side of the bed this morning, cousin, or is it something I said?”
The auburn-haired master-smith would never address the other woman so if she had even a hint they were not alone. Banter was fine for cousins, but not in a formal work situation. Only one set of booted feet strode through the door, and since she had sent Heard into Edoras first thing, there was no question of impropriety.
“We take it in turns, cousin,” came the clipped reply, as the sergeant marched swiftly up the stairs to her small office. “But I manage it with more finesse than you.”
Heartha scoffed out loud. Thilwend was a Shieldmaiden, a soldier through and through. Only one who knew her very well would have been able to tell something was bothering her. She was efficient, precise, in control of herself as much as she was of those guards outside. Only… she wasn’t as much in control these last few days.
“Captain Denholm?” Hertha’s rich voice posed a question, a suspicion, to the woman who could be heard moving papers around on her desk.
“Too soon to say,” the matter-of-fact statement was the reply, suggesting the newly arrived captain was not really the issue. “If he does as well as the last one and manages to stay alive, then I will decide.”
Temporarily abandoning her observation, Hertha moved to the bottom of the stairs. For all her jesting, she was a little concerned. “Can I be of assistance, Sergeant Thilwend?” she asked.
There was the sound of papers being thumbed through, then Thilwend walked to the top of the stairs, halting a moment before descending empty handed.
“Would you like some stick meat? I got several from the cook a little while ago. The boar is good.” the smith suggested, nodding to a plate on the side shelf.
“On duty!” the older, taller woman stated. “Do you recall that man oh, two winters back, who was causing problems in the village? He was annoying folk in general, but seemed to make a point of picking on certain women.”
Hertha frowned as she turned to her one and only chair, and sat down. She always remembered men of that ilk. They didn’t usually spend much time near her once she knew of them. “Cribin, Crebin, Cri something? Aye? Darker blonde hair...runs like a chicken?”
“You know him then?”
“Oh aye, cousin. He was a problem for several weeks, then just slunk back into the shadows I thought? A few folk had words with him, myself included.” Hertha had encountered him at that time. A weak man, she had thought, who tried to intimidate others.
“Well he may be back.” Thilwend continued. “I am trying to find all the reports made to present to Captain Denholm before I make mention to him. I am not sure how concerned the Captain will be about it, given there was never any physical damage reported, so I am not giving him any room to ignore the matter.”
“You think our new captain is more of a “Charge, Rohirrim! To death or glory’ sort?”
The faintest hint of a grin touched Thilwend’s lips. “If he is that sort I will be watching his every move. No one, not even our new captain, puts my Bancross in danger.”
With a wider grin of her own, Hertha indicated she would like a brief second opinion on the metal work she had been studying. She rose to her feet again and moved over to the table.
“What do you think, cousin?”
“I think you are the smith.”
“Aye, but you still ask me about soldiering matters at times.”
Shaking her head, so for the briefest of moments a strand of her auburn hair came loose from the neat and precise bun she wore it in, Thilwend took a few steps to take a look. “You are thinking of taking on a new apprentice?”
“More than thinking. I will have her come to the forge tomorrow and make up the fire. Then she can make me a blade. If she is as good as these older items suggest, then I will train her.”
“Her?” Thilwend retorted. “I didn’t think we had any women in Bancross interested in smithing, or does she come from another village?”
“She is from here. It’s Ethel, Waelden’s daughter. She is young, but she has been well trained so far by the smith at Floodwend. His loss is my gain. I will be speaking with her parents tomorrow, if all goes to plan.”
Thilwend nodded. “I know Waelden, though not really Yllfa or Ethel. He seems like a sound sort.”
“Aye. So meeting Ethel leads me to believe. I think she has the benefit of a family that wants her to be happy. But you know, our new captain is related to them?”
Thilwend shook her head. “I didn’t know that. I thought his close kin were in Snowbourn?”
“He came here to the forge when Ethel was first speaking with me. She called him ‘Uncle’. He looked pleased to see her, but then asked after her papa, and she told him he was at home with her mama. You know, our captain almost went ashen of face, like he had been asked to go investigate the Paths of the Dead, or something. It was only a moment, but something isn’t quite right.” Pondering her words and memory, Hertha sighed. She hoped whatever it was would not interfere with Ethel’s training.
“Whatever is between Captain Denholm and Waelden’s family is none of our business unless it becomes our business. I don’t want any gossip. I want facts.” Thilwend said flatly. “Hildfrith has already passed word of a lurker around the village, making it her place to see everyone is duly warned of something that may yet be nothing.”
“She did that last time, if I remember rightly?”
Thilwend leant her head close. “The thing is,” she said in no more than a whisper, “I suspect it isn’t just a lurker. I think we have two or more troublemakers in Bancross, or at least paying a visit here. I can’t order extra checks on who is coming and going unless I can make my case to Captain Denholm. So, if you will excuse me cousin, I will be back to sorting my reports. Something isn’t quite right here either. There is something I am missing, but I will find it.”
“I will keep my eyes and ears open, Thilwend.” The smith looked up as the sergeant returned to the stairs. “ What passes between us, stays between us.”
Thilwend nodded, stopping for a moment to add another piece of news.
“Oh and there is a new woman in the village. I haven’t met her yet, but from what I hear she is a horse healer, or at least a keeper of horses. You should introduce yourself, Hertha. She may have a need for a farrier. She may be a farrier?”
“If she is a farrier it would be a big help to me.” The smith took up her leather apron and tied it about her. It was time to start her own work. “But if not, well, I may soon start Ethel off with some farriery, and she can come watch...if we are needed that is.”
They were cousins, Thilwend and Heartha. They had grown up as close friends until their choices had taken them down different paths. Working close together now was something of a mixed blessing. But they had each other’s backs, the Shieldmaiden and the Master Smith.
“Don’t be concerned,” Heartha said. “We will sort this out you know. The women of this village can take care of ourselves.”
