Hertha still had little liking for Captain Denholm, but for her cousin Thilwend’s sake, for Bancross’ sake, she had put aside her plan to travel to Helm’s Deep, at least for the moment.
And there was another reason. She stood back from her own work, wiping the back of a hand over her moist brow and looked to the girl, Ethel. The girl was definitely a reason for staying if, as Hertha suspected, Waelden would not allow his daughter to travel to Helm’s Deep.
There was something about Ethel’s eagerness to learn, and her natural skill, that caused the Master Smith consternation. If she abandoned the girl’s mentoring then who would take over? Hearrd thought highly of Ethel of course, but it wouldn’t be the same. Hertha was thankful for the man who had taught her his skills, despite her being a girl. She understood very few others would have risked their reputation so. And although no actual oath had been made by her, Hertha felt almost as if she had! ‘I swear to you that I shall see you through to being a worthy and notable smith’? She wanted to pass on her skills to someone she had faith in. Oh, she had taught Hearrd a lot, but that someone was Ethel.
The Master Smith caught a glance from Hearrd, who was working at the back of the forge on a pile of spear heads. Straight forward work it was, that most competent smiths could manage. The thought was in her mind of asking Ethel to undertake the work and free Hearrd to finish the shields. Ethel would be an apprentice for two years yet, but Hertha was prepared to push her forward, under her supervision of course.
Had this been any other time she would not have thought twice. But this work was vital. It needed to be finished fast, and well. The threat of an attack seemed to loom more menacingly over the village. More men had been recruited into the garrison, some with no more than a small hand axe, and a blunt one at that. There were shields and swords to be made for the more experienced would-be guards, thanks to the Thane’s provision of coin and ore. Old swords and axes needed sharpening, spear points needed making, and some arrowheads. They were working flat out, she and Hearrd, and Ethel was building and stocking and blowing air on the fire with bellows as fast as she could.
Then, two days ago, Wigthegn arrived. Hertha had sent for the sword specialist, with Denholm’s permission, knowing him to be the second best sword smith in the Westfold. Maybe the best? As matters transpired he had also intended to apply for the position at Helm’s Deep that she had sought. They had both laughed heartily when they found that out. But he was an old friend, and had agreed to stop over at Bancross for as long as it took to fully upgrade the garrison.
Three smiths and one able apprentice in one forge. They should manage.
So Ethel was on to making spear heads, Hearrd repairing shields, and Wigthegn and Hertha were working on the swords. Ten new swords had been commissioned by the garrison. Twelve further swords needed repair or sharpening, without adding axes and spears.
Busy! That word did not do justice to the situation.
“Why are all the swords almost the same?” Ethel had asked of a sudden, turning with curiosity to her mentor. “Those who wield them can vary a lot in height and strength and skill.”
Wigthegn, who was also becoming kindly disposed towards the apprentice, replied. “That is down to coin, young one. If a man has enough in his purse he can have a sword fashioned to his liking. Plain or adorned, runes and gems, and a name rune-etched upon it.”
“Aye. My papa’s sword has that. The runes, not the gems. But I mean heavier swords for stronger soldiers, and lighter, sharper ones for those who rely on speed, and sort of dance with their swords… like Duncadda does… did. And shorter ones for those who are short? And so on.”
“I know what you mean, Ethel. And I have both seen your papa’s sword, and Duncadda sword dance. But there is not the time nor money to outfit each guard and inhabitant of the village personally. After this, when we again have peace, I will work with you on a few commissioned swords. You will learn. By next summer you will be making swords yourself.”
“And the summer after that, she will be a Journeyman,” Wigthegn added, scratching his near beardless chin. “Look. Here’s a suggestion, Hertha. You carry on with the swords you are working on, and Ethel and I will make a blade to her specification.”
Ethel’s head had shot up at those words. She silently mouthed 'Oh yes please,’ but Hertha raised a hand in a halting motion. Work still had to be finished.
“I know you are being encouraging, Wigthegn, but we have much to complete.” The master smith looked firmly at her companion smith, then at her apprentice.
“Very well. This alone I will permit. One blade. One blade only. Then both of you finish those spear heads.”
There was eager nodding from the girl, who moved to put aside what she had been working on, then thought again, this time as a smith, and continued until told to stop.
Wigthegn winked knowingly. “Aye, Ethel. We shall both finish our present work, then start on the blade. Now will we be making something for a tall or short guard?”
“A tall and swift man, who can make a dance out of a fight. We are making a blade for Duncadda,” Ethel stated, with no further explanation.
Now the Master Smith was in the forge alone, some ten days later when Duncadda did indeed come looking for a sword. It seemed Denholm had given him permission to take one from the forge. The tall man had made for the bucket of blades ready to be claimed or finished. He took up one with a hilt and swung it back and forth. It seemed to Hertha he was merely going through the motions.
“For a man who lost his sword, this will suffice.”
At that moment Heard entered, and looked a touch sheepishly at Duncadda, before colouring slightly.
“What’s wrong?”
Hearrd shook his head, but then pointed to one of the unfinished blades. “Why don’t you try that one, Duncadda. It won’t take long for it to be completed.”
Hearrd was indicating the blade Ethel had worked on with Wigthegn. “Aye,” Hertha added her recommendation. “Try that blade. It seems to me it was almost made for you.” she said.
And so it was that Duncadda got his sword, after Ethel, overseen then by Heartha, had finished the hilt and sharpened the blade to perfection.
