The Copper Sign (43 page)

For two days nothing happened. Neither Thibault nor William appeared in the shop, and Ellen had also not noticed the person who had been prowling around their tent ever since they arrived. To get her mind off these matters, she finally began work again on the decorations for Athanor. Before long she had engraved the little heart on the blade. Carefully she tapped the gold wire into the groove she had cut into the blade and checked with her thumb to make certain the inlay was smooth, and then she rubbed the blade with a piece of cloth so no rust would form there due to moisture from her fingers. She examined the sword with satisfaction. The little golden heart looked elegant and simple at the same time and was exactly at the center of gravity. Ellen had also purchased some copper wire and used it to inlay her sign, a rounded “E” within a circle, on the other side of the sword. In shaping the letter, she was thinking of her first attempts at engraving for Jocelyn. They had often engraved entire sayings into sacral objects, so she had a lot of experience with that from the outset. For a long time these decorations had been nothing but trivial squiggles for her, nice to look at but meaningless. Only with time had she learned to write all the letters and a few words that were frequently in demand. When she had finished the “E” she examined it with a critical eye. It was well rounded, like a C with a vertical line at each end. Through the middle of the rounded center was a horizontal line with a tiny vertical line at the end as well. It was all contained within a circle that Ellen had fashioned with great care. She beamed with pride at the result. When Jean entered the workshop, she showed him Athanor.

“Is that what I was working on? I mean, that’s the same clump of iron that you picked out of the pile?” he asked incredulously.

Ellen smiled broadly. “I can’t imagine anything more wonderful than being a swordsmith. Athanor is balanced, elegant, and very, very sharp.”

“I’ll admit, Ellenweore, I’m impressed.”

“I hope you’ll not be the only one who likes Athanor. I wonder if William is really here already?”

“Henry says that the Young King arrived three days ago.”

“Good.” Ellen slid the sword into its scabbard and wrapped it in a blanket.

“May I carry it?” asked Jean.

“Of course!” She seemed to be thinking. “Do you know what? I’ll follow your advice and confess my deception to William. But before he learns anything, I want him to see Athanor.” She stared into space wistfully before catching herself again. “Look here! The chape!”

“Gold?” asked Jean, impressed.

“For heaven’s sake, no, do you think I’ve suddenly become rich? Brass, of course, but it looks good, doesn’t it?”

Jean nodded enthusiastically.

“It goes well with the dark red covering of the scabbard. Your sword has become a real masterpiece. You should never sell it; it’s the proof of how good you are. If you have that to show, you can definitely find work in any smithy!”

“I’m not so certain of that. Probably no one will believe that I made it. And malicious tongues could also claim I stole it,” she opined gloomily. “But the most important thing for me is that William likes it!” she said with a broad smile.

“William, there you go again!” Jean groaned.

“Of course! He said if I’m good, he’ll recommend me to the Young King!”

“Oh, he is always broke, that’s what our friend Henry says, and he knows everything that’s going on at the Young King’s court.”

“It may be that the Young King doesn’t have so much money at present,” Ellen agreed reluctantly. “But when his father dies, he’ll have all the power and money to spare. You’ll see, Jean, one day I’ll make a sword for the king! I’m absolutely convinced of that!”

They had almost arrived at the tent when a young man bumped into Jean and knocked him down. He wrenched the sword from Jean and tried to take off with it.

Ellen’s heart leaped; she jumped over Jean, who was lying on the ground, and rushed after the thief. She hadn’t worked so hard just to have a scoundrel come and destroy it all! She remembered the purse snatcher in Ipswich. This time she wouldn’t let the thief get away! Shoving and pushing, she pursued him through the crowd and in fact was getting closer. She reached out and caught him by the back of the neck, yanked him back, knocked him over, and ended up sitting on his chest. A few bystanders were laughing, but nobody interfered. “You’ve got something there that belongs to me!” she shouted, punching him on the chin; then she grabbed Athanor and let him go.

At first he wanted to jump up and try to wrest the sword from her again, but then he saw a man approaching and decided to take off.

Ellen wondered why he had changed his mind so fast until she looked around and saw Thibault.

“Why don’t you come to me instead of attacking poor, innocent people?” he whispered to her.

Ellen looked him directly in the eye, and her golden freckles seemed to gleam and dance around.

“The only way you can have me is by force—I’ll never follow you voluntarily to your tent,” she hissed.

“Isn’t that a shame? Poor William won’t be happy when he hears the truth about you.” Thibault shook his head as if he felt sorry about that.

“I’ll tell him myself.”

“I could get there first.”

“What difference does that make? He’ll hate me for it, one way or the other.” Ellen shrugged, turned on her heel, and left Thibault standing there.

Jean had pulled himself together in the meanwhile and stood there, grinning.

“You better watch out, little guy,” Thibault warned him, raising his fist angrily.

Jean rushed to catch up with Ellen.

“You really gave it to him,” he exclaimed admiringly.

The next morning as Ellen was arriving at the smithy, she caught sight of two men standing nearby. She slowed down when she recognized the huge figure in front of her that almost blocked her sight of Pierre. At the same time, Pierre saw her and nodded warmly. “Here she is now, Sir William!”

“Ellenweore!” William exclaimed. His face shone with passion.

Ellen nodded to her master. “Will you excuse us for a moment?” she asked, and Pierre stepped a few paces to the side.

“I looked for you at the tournament in Compiègne. Where were you?”

Ellen couldn’t help but chuckle. If she wasn’t completely mistaken, William sounded jealous!

“I was sick,” she replied tersely.

“Aha!” William seemed uncertain whether to believe her.

“I have finished the sword. Would you like to have a look?” She raised up the bundle she was carrying.

“I’d like nothing more!” He seemed delighted and stepped closer.

Ellen’s heart beat furiously. “Then come, Pierre hasn’t seen it yet, either.”

She unwrapped the sword under the critical eye of the two men.

The scabbard, covered in dark red, radiated elegance and dignity.

William raised his eyebrows approvingly when Ellen handed him Athanor. He weighed the sword in both hands, then seized it with his right hand and pulled it out of the scabbard slowly, with feeling and awe. “It handles very well!” he said appreciatively, swinging it back and forth. “How sharp is it?” he asked.

“I split a hair with it,” Ellen stated calmly.

William nodded his appreciation and examined the sword more closely. The two cutting edges of the gleaming blade were perfectly formed. Then he looked up and handed it to the smith.

“Do have a look, it’s simply wonderful. It has a splendid sheen! What do you think?”

“Let me have a closer look, sire,” replied Pierre, scarcely able to conceal his curiosity. William placed the sword back in the scabbard in order to hand it to Pierre. The smith looked it over critically and finally shrugged.

“The shine is beautiful, but there is not much decoration, just two little inlays, one of them in copper,” he complained. Ellen could not resist thinking that Pierre was jealous.

“Decorations, such silliness! You mustn’t judge a sword like this in those terms. Swing it through the air—then you’ll see how unimportant such decorations are. The sword is perfectly balanced. It’s something special because it has character!” William enthused, once again taking it out of its scabbard. Ellen took a piece of wood the thickness of an arm and held it out to him. He sliced it in two with one blow without knocking the wood out of her hand.

“Whoa! Sharp! Very sharp!” William exclaimed with great enthusiasm.

Pierre shrugged. “Well done, Ellenweore,” he said, clearly trying to sound as indifferent as possible. Then he turned around and went back to his work.

“He finds it better than just good but doesn’t want to admit it,” William whispered to her, and kissed her on the tip of her nose without bothering to look and see if anyone was watching.

Ellen turned around, embarrassed. “Can we meet after work? I must talk with you. It’s important, but not meant for everyone’s ears,” she said.

William nodded. “I’ll stop by and pick you up,” he winked.

“But Athanor will stay here,” she said with a laugh and took the sword from his hands.

“I’ll get it someday, one way or the other,” he called over his shoulder as he left.

“Then hold on to your money so you can afford it,” she grumbled, but William had already disappeared in the crowd.

Just before sundown Madeleine came to her.

“Look what I’ve got!” She showed Ellen another silver piece.

“He gave me a message for you. I didn’t understand what he meant, but he told me just to repeat it and you would.” She gave Ellen an innocent look.

“What? Tell me!”

“He said he was a bird-catcher and had the right bait to catch the most beautiful songbird in the world. And then he asked me whether Jean was my brother.” Madeleine giggled. “Do you understand that?”

All at once Ellen understood that the secret knight who had given Madeleine the silver coin was not William, but Thibault.

“Where is he?” she asked.

“Who?”

“Jean!” Ellen was seized with panic when Madeleine didn’t answer at once.

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen him.”

“Go to the shield maker and ask if he is there. If not, look for him in the tent and then come back to me. I’ll be done in a moment. But hurry, Madeleine, it’s important. I’m afraid Jean is in danger!”

Madeleine had been smiling the entire time, but now she looked up anxiously. “I’ll do it right away!” she said, and rushed out.

Ellen quickly finished her work and cleaned up the shop. She kept looking around, praying she was mistaken, and hoped to see Jean and Madeleine walking calmly toward the shop at any moment. But if Thibault had gotten hold of him…

“Are you ready?” William’s warm voice tore her from her anxious thoughts. She wanted nothing more than to rush into his arms.

“Hm, I’m coming.” She had to control herself. Probably William would be furious with her forever when he learned what she was planning to tell him that day. She took off her apron, folded it together, and packed it up with her tools. Then she picked up Athanor and turned to leave. Just as she was walking out the door, Madeleine came running.

“Ellenweore! He’s gone! I can’t find him anywhere!”

“Who is she talking about?”

“Jean—I’ve told you about him before.”

William nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”

“Let me first take my tools and the sword to the tent; then we can take a little walk. I have something urgent to tell you.”

“You’re making it all very exciting!” William winked playfully.

“Wait a moment, I’ll be right back,” she asked when they arrived at the tent, leaving William standing not far away. After she had put down her tools and was about to return to him, she heard someone calling softly to her. It couldn’t be Jean. Behind the tent she finally discovered an emaciated woman half hiding in the shadows. “Who are you and what…?” The rest of her question stuck in her throat. “Rose? Is it you?”

The woman nodded, fell down on her knees in front of her, and cried.

Ellen pulled her to her feet again. Rose’s body seemed wasted, and the shadows beneath her eyes gave a hint of how unhappy she must be. “What are you doing here?”

Rose wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Thibault is a scoundrel. I never wanted to accept that. I always did everything for him, and, oh, Ellen, I was so stupid!” Rose sobbed.

“Are you still with him?” Ellen asked, surprised.

Rose looked down at the ground, embarrassed.

“Why do you let him hurt you?”

“I somehow thought that he loved me, in his own way.” She looked at Ellen with big, childlike eyes.

“Sometimes when I share the bed with him he is loving and tender, and that’s why I always had hope he would change. But he isn’t changing and never will. For months he has been stalking that girl.” Rose looked over at where Madeleine was standing. “I watched him and was jealous because I thought he was chasing her. But all he did was to pump her for information, about you.”

Ellen clenched her fists. “I hope he kept his dirty hands off her.”

“He is obsessed with you, Ellen, and that makes him dangerous. He runs back and forth in his tent just muttering your name. I am so sorry that I betrayed you back then. I was blinded by love and didn’t really mean to do it, believe me!”

Ellen embraced Rose and tried to console her. “Now just stop talking about that. That was a long time ago.”

“But now Thibault is holding your friend prisoner.”

“Do you mean Jean?”

Rose nodded. “He’s threatening to kill him if you don’t come. Do you think he could ever do anything like that?”

“Yes, Rose, I do.”

Rose took a deep breath. “Sneak up to the back of his tent and I’ll let you in,” she whispered. “I have to go—if I am away for long he goes crazy.” She turned around and disappeared.

“What’s the matter, Ellenweore?” William asked. He had been looking for her in her tent and had not found her there.