The Copper Sign (51 page)

Ellen had had to purchase new files, a whetstone, and several polishing stones in order to complete the orders for the castle garrison but so far had received only half of the agreed payment. She preferred not to discuss that with Mildred or Isaac and asked Jean also not to discuss her work. Thus, conversation at the dinner table was not about work in the forge, and Isaac remained happy, joked with them, and behaved appropriately toward Ellen, just as a brother-in-law should.

They celebrated Christmas dinner with smoked eel, the fat goose that Mildred had brought along, strong bread, and hearty sauce.

“If you could only see it, Father!” Ellen nudged her father, who had gone completely blind again just a few months after the surgery. “Will is letting go and trying to walk on his own now…”

And then, in fact, William let go of the stool and toddled toward the little wooden crib on the other side of the room. Ever since Jean had put it there that morning, William had had an eye on it, and finally his curiosity overcame his fear.

Ever since Easter they had been waiting to see him start walking, but he didn’t dare because his foot was turned inward and he could only walk on the side of it. Even when someone was holding his hand he stumbled easily over his own foot and had trouble keeping his balance.

Osmond had tears of relief in his eyes when he heard that his grandson was walking with determined steps toward the crib, even if unsteadily.

“Good job!” Ellen praised the boy when he got there. Little William beamed, let go again, and toddled his way back to the stool. He kept going back and forth until Rose decided it was time for him to go to bed.

Isaac was crazy about the boy. “We need a son and heir like him, too!” he said, winking at Mildred, who was still a bit weak from Agnes’s birth.

On the next day, too, Isaac watched little William’s untiring attempts to walk, and suddenly he had an idea. “Jean, can you come to the workshop with me?”

Ellen frowned but didn’t say anything for Mildred’s sake as Isaac rose from the table and headed toward her smithy without asking permission.

Jean glanced quickly to see if she approved and then followed Isaac.

“It’s because of his crooked foot that the little fellow is having trouble learning to walk. He’s brave and has an iron will, but his foot will bother him for the rest of his life. If he had a firm shoe to support his foot, perhaps it would grow out straight. What I am trying to say is that children’s feet are in a way undeveloped. Have you looked at Agnes’s feet? They are flat and thin and only with time will they take on their final form. Even Marie’s feet are still a bit flat.”

Jean made a face and thought it over. “And what material would you use to make that?”

“We are smiths, aren’t we?”

“You want to make the child a shoe out of iron?” Jean laughed. “That’s much too heavy—he’ll never be able to walk with it.”

Isaac took a deep breath. “You are probably right, but I’m sure we can find a solution if we both give it some thought.”

Jean nodded enthusiastically. He liked Isaac even though he could understand why Ellen hated it when he treated her so condescendingly as soon as the talk turned to smithing.

“In any case, a shoe made of leather is too soft—it will just conform to the foot,” Jean said, thinking aloud.

“What about a wooden shoe?”

“That won’t work.” Jean shook his head dispiritedly. “He wouldn’t even be able to get his foot into it. That’s the reason Ellen always lets him run around barefoot,” he explained.

“That’s fine in summertime. Marie usually runs around barefoot, too. But we’re concerned with his crooked foot. If we make him a wooden shoe that’s just a little too small, it will push the foot gradually in the right direction, and after a while we could make him a new one. Children’s feet grow so fast in any case that they always need new wooden clogs. Believe me, I know that’s true of Marie, and she’s a girl. Certainly boys’ feet grow even faster.”

“I’ve never made a wooden shoe, have you?”

“Only ordinary ones, nothing special like that. But look, we are skilled workers and can do that, don’t you think?” Isaac grinned encouragingly. “We just have to think about how we are going to fit them for his foot. First we can take one of Marie’s shoes and have a look at how it’s made. So let’s go—do you have some dry wood?”

Jean nodded. “In the shed, over on the right.” He pointed to the west side of the smithy.

Isaac went and got Marie’s wooden shoes while Jean brought William into the workshop.

Ellen wondered about all the secretiveness and what kept them so long in the workshop. There was no smoke coming from the forge, and she couldn’t hear any hammering. If Isaac’s condescending way hadn’t been so annoying to her, she would have joined them in the smithy to see what was going on.

When Jean and Isaac returned to the house with little William in their arms, it was already pitch black. The wooden shoes were finished.

Ellen just gave a bored shrug when Jean explained to her what they were doing.

“Someday he’ll be a smith and he won’t have to walk especially well,” she snapped back.

“Yes, yes, I know, in olden times kings used to even cut the heel tendons in the feet of their best smiths so they couldn’t run away and work for anyone else. We know all about that,” Isaac said irritably.

“Is that true?” Jean asked with a shudder.

“Haven’t I ever told you the story of Wieland the Smith?” Ellen asked in amazement.

Jean shook his head.

“Wieland was a great smith even though he couldn’t walk!” Ellen said, irritated. “Just like Hephaestos!”

“The way it looks to me, Ellenweore is crazy about these strong men. What a shame none of them are available anymore,” Isaac teased her.

“Get out, both of you!” Ellen scolded them angrily.

Isaac took Jean by the shoulders and led him out.

“First we’ll go and get some wood so the women can cook us something good to eat.”

“You’ll never live to see the day I cook anything good for you,” Ellen grumbled after the two had left. Isaac’s little dig at her had hit home.

Rose laughed. “You two get along like cats and dogs. How fortunate that your parents saw to it that Mildred married him, and not you.”

“Oh, I would have been widowed a long time ago, because I would have ripped his head off the very first week,” Ellen replied, and she couldn’t help laughing when she saw how shocked Rose looked.

Ellen stood freezing at Osmond’s grave. Only one year after the surgery on his eyes he had fallen asleep one bright summer day and simply not woken up. Ellen and Leofric bore him to his grave, with the help of Jean and Simon.

For a while after Osmond’s death, it was noticeable how often Simon came to the smithy. Ellen thought back on the evening when Simon had proposed to her.

“Simon is a nice fellow, and you ought to give him a chance,” Leofric said as soon as Simon had left the house.

“I don’t want any nice fellow, and certainly not Simon. He’s my friend and always has been, but marry him? Never!” Ellen trembled with anger.

Simon was her confidant from childhood, but there was nothing else they had in common. Simon’s world consisted of animal skins, urine, and tan bark. His only ambition was to take over the tannery someday and have children, just as his father had done. The tannery had not made the family rich, but they always had a roof over their heads and never went hungry.

Ellen’s plans, however, were quite different. The very thought of becoming Simon’s wife and winding up like his mother— tanned and permeated with this horrible stench—seemed so awful to her that she stared angrily at her brother. “If you think you are going to get rid of me so easily, you have another thing coming. I know it’s you who will inherit the smithy, and not me, that’s the law, even though I am older. But you’re still too young and inexperienced to manage the shop by yourself. For the time being you need to have me here, so you’d best hold your tongue and give a second thought to your choice of the person I have to marry.”

“By the time I take over the smithy, you’ll be an old hag, and who will want you then, huh?” Leofric replied, furious. “Anyway, I have no intention of getting rid of you. You wouldn’t become an old tanner woman even if you married Simon, because you could work here.”

For a moment Ellen didn’t reply. Leofric was afraid she would leave! The angry look in her eyes gave way to a tender glance at her younger brother. “I can’t marry him, really!” Thinking of the old tanner woman made her turn pale all over.

Leofric continued, “I think you’re just pretending, honestly!”

“I won’t marry a tanner, do you understand?” She didn’t want to hear any more of it. “If I marry anyone, it will be a smith who lets me continue smithing. You can forget everything else, and that’s my last word. Go to bed now, we have a lot to do tomorrow!”

When Simon came a week later to get her answer, she turned him down without any explanation. To her great surprise, he didn’t try to change her mind but accepted her decision without getting angry or saying anything spiteful. But after that he never came back to the smithy, and it was only Jean or Leofric who would go to the tannery if they needed leather for their work.

An icy gust of wind tore Ellen from her reveries, and she looked up anxiously at the sky. It looked like snow again. Freezing, she pulled her cloak tighter around her, said a prayer for her foster father, and trudged over the snow-covered hill back to the smithy.

Long before she arrived, Leofric had taken the sled and left for the forest to cut wood. In winter it had to dry out for a long while before it was useable, and it was Leofric’s job to head out early and get the wood. Coal for the forge was too expensive to be used for cooking.

Jean was alone when Ellen entered the shop. “Isn’t Leofric back yet?” she asked, frowning.

“No.” Jean looked up from his work. “He’s been away a bit too long, don’t you think?” It looked as if he were worried.

“Perhaps we should go and look for him before it gets dark,” Ellen suggested. Ever since Osmond had died, she was the one who decided what to do.

“Let’s do that!” Jean removed his apron and took his cloak down from the hook.

“Come, Greybeard!” Ellen called, slapping her hand against her thigh.

The dog raised his head, stood up slowly, and stretched comfortably.

“It’s gotten damn cold. Leofric’s hands and feet must be freezing, being in the forest this long!” Jean shook himself as the icy wind hit him.

Out in the meadow the snow crunched under their feet. It was easy to see Leofric’s footprints leading into the forest, and they followed them at a quick pace.

Ellen discovered the sled in a small clearing, but there was no sign of Leofric. Greybeard was getting restless and began to whine, while Jean ran to the sled and followed Leofric’s footprints from there.

“This way, Ellen!” he called, motioning her to come.

Just a few steps further they discovered a pool of blood in the whiteness of the freshly fallen snow.

“For God’s sake, Jean!”

Several sets of footprints led away from the spot.

Jean discovered a wide trail as if something had been dragged in the snow, but suddenly it ended.

“They tied it to a stake here in order to carry it off,” he explained, pointing to the prints that now led away, close together.

“What are you talking about?”

“Poachers!”

Ellen stood there with her mouth open in shock. “How do you know that?” she yelled at Jean.

“Marcondé was a master at poaching, and these people here were bunglers. They must have been afraid of getting caught. Anyone found poaching in the king’s forests is hanged.”

“I know that myself,” Ellen lashed out, and looked around in despair. “But just where can Leofric be?”

“Shh, quiet!” Jean listened intently.

Ellen stood still.

Greybeard had disappeared into the woods. Suddenly he started to bark furiously.

“Over there, come along,” shouted Jean as he ran off.

A cold chill ran down Ellen’s spine followed by a feeling of horror.

She saw two masked men with clubs. “Leofric!” she shouted. Jean grabbed a broken branch and ran after the men, who threw their clubs down in panic and fled.

Ellen ran toward her brother.

Leofric was unconscious and had a large, open wound in his head that was bleeding profusely. Ellen laid her right ear on his chest and listened to his heart. It was beating weakly.

Greybeard whined and licked Leofric’s face.

“He’s alive!” she called to Jean, who had followed them only a short way and kept turning around warily.

“The bastards!” He spat into the snow angrily and lifted the boy by the shoulder. “Take his legs and we’ll carry him to the sled. We’ve got to get him home where it’s warm as soon as possible and care for his wounds.”

Ellen stood there, dumbfounded, realizing for the first time how much Leofric meant to her.

“Let’s go!” Jean shouted at her.

“Right, what am I supposed to…oh, the legs, yes.”

Ellen grabbed Leofric’s feet and helped Jean carry him to the sled.

Greybeard ran along beside them, whining softly. It seemed to take forever for them to get home.

“What happened?” Rose had been waiting impatiently by the house and now ran out to meet them.

“He was attacked by poachers. Go and heat up some water— he’s badly injured!” Jean shouted to her.

Rose didn’t ask twice but turned around and rushed back into the house.

“I think we’ll have to sew up the wound on his head,” Jean said after he had put Leofric down on the straw bed that Rose had quickly prepared.

Ellen bent down toward her brother and stroked his pale cheek. His hair was matted down by all the blood that was oozing from the wound in his head.