The Copper Sign (60 page)

Isaac laughed and tousled his hair before continuing. “Well, one day Nidung’s two younger sons came to see Wieland in the smithy and asked him to make some arrows for them. They didn’t want their father to know anything about it. Wieland told them to come back on a day when fresh snow had fallen. They were to walk backwards to the smithy, where he would make the arrows for them. The very next day it had snowed, and the two boys did as the smith had instructed them.” Isaac looked deeply into Will’s eyes. “Wieland was obsessed with the thought of revenge. He took his hammer and slew the king’s children.”

“But they weren’t guilty of anything!” Will cried out angrily.

“That’s right, my son, but a person driven by revenge is seldom just.” Isaac took the boy in his arms. “Do you really want me to go on?”

Will swallowed his tears and nodded.

“Wieland hid the corpses of the children, and when the king’s men came to the smithy to look for the boys he told them he had made arrows for them. The footprints in the snow leading away from the smithy seemed to confirm what he was telling them, so Nidung’s men looked for the boys in the forest nearby. After many days, they finally gave up the search. Wieland went and got the corpses from their hiding place and made drinking cups of silver and gold out of the children’s skulls. From their bones he carved knife handles and candlesticks for the king’s dinner table. But Wieland longed for even greater revenge. Using a magic ring he persuaded Badhild, the king’s daughter, to secretly marry him. When shortly afterward one of Wieland’s brothers—the best of all archers—came to Nidung’s kingdom, Wieland could finally get his revenge. He made wings out of eagle feathers, put them on, and flew up to Nidung’s castle. He told the king he had killed his sons and Badhild was expecting a child from him, then flew away. Now Nidung ordered the archer to kill his own brother.”

“So now Wieland, too, is getting his just punishment!” the boy announced triumphantly, but Isaac shook his head.

“Wieland was smart and had told his brother to shoot him under his right arm where he was carrying a bag filled with blood. On observing all the blood, Nidung believed the smith was dead, but he died himself shortly thereafter from his grief. His eldest son became a kind and just king, and when Badhild gave birth to a boy, Wieland pleaded with the young king for forgiveness. Wieland and Badhild married and lived happily in their homeland until the end of their days.” After he had finished the story, Isaac was silent for a long while.

Will started picking up stones and throwing them, at first hesitantly and then with increasing rage.

“I don’t like him!” he growled.

“Who don’t you like?” Isaac asked with surprise.

“Wieland! He isn’t a hero at all. He’s underhanded and not one bit better than Nidung!”

“But Nidung deceived him and made him a cripple,” Isaac said, looking at the child in surprise.

“Wieland is a coward. The children did nothing to harm him, nor did the poor eagles who had to lose their feathers!” Will cried out angrily. “Would you kill me because she allowed the barber-surgeon to cut off your arm?” he asked in horror.

Isaac thought about his quarrel with Ellen and didn’t know what to say to that. He just silently shook his head.

“I’ll never be like Wieland, and I’ll never become a smith!” the boy said disapprovingly.

“Oh, Will!” Isaac took the boy by the arm. “You are still much too young to be such a stubborn fellow. Of course you will become a smith. In our family all the men are smiths, your grandfather, my father, and all our ancestors.” He gave the boy an encouraging smile.

“And what about my father?” Will’s eyes filled with tears; then he jumped up and ran down the hill.

“Wait, Will, wait for me!” Isaac had gotten up, too, and hurried to catch up with the boy.

“You are pretty damned fast with your crooked foot,” he congratulated him, panting, after he had finally caught up with him just before they got to the smithy. Will flushed with pride at Isaac’s compliment and forgot his anger.

“Shall we go to the forest again tomorrow?” Isaac asked, smiling at the boy.

Will nodded and dashed off happily.

“I could do carvings again if only I knew how to hold the wood,” Isaac mumbled the next day while they were sitting on the meadow near the forest. He pulled off his shoes and tried to hold the piece with his feet.

Will was excited by the idea and did the same, and soon the two of them realized it wasn’t all that difficult.

From that moment on, Isaac practiced with great enthusiasm every day, and eventually learned how to hold a piece of wood tightly enough to whittle it with his right hand. Isaac was amazed at how intent Will was also.

“Why are you doing that?” he asked one day in amazement. “You have two good hands!”

“When you started doing that, I just thought it was fun,” Will said, grinning. “But it also makes my foot stronger. Ever since I have been practicing with you I can run father without it hurting.”

Whenever he was together with Will, Isaac felt the comfort and warmth he had missed for so long. “Now it’s time I started whittling so I can make you a new pair of wooden shoes!” Isaac put a piece of wood between his toes and held it tightly with his other foot. He began by cutting a figure of a cow. Shortly after came a doll for Marie and a little puppy for Agnes, and later two more cows, a pig, a donkey, and a horse as well as a farmer, a cat, and a cradle with a baby inside.

His daughters’ eyes sparkled when he gave them his first creations. Every day they stormed him with requests, eagerly anticipating what would come next.

With every figure he made, Isaac became more skillful and, as everyone noticed, happier.

Will ran barefoot through the grass that was wet with the morning dew to the place where Isaac usually sat to do his carvings. The ground was soft, had a sharp fragrance, and was covered with colorful leaves that Will joyfully kicked up in front of him as he ran. Isaac was not working on a piece of wood as usual but stood there with a stone in his hand. Will stared at him in surprise. Isaac kept bending the arm holding the stone and then extending it far from his body. Sometimes he swung his arm around, and sometimes he pressed the stone straight up. Will was fascinated by what Isaac was doing and didn’t dare to disturb him for a long while. “What are you doing there, Uncle Isaac?”

“I’m losing strength in my arm, and it’s time I did something about that.”

Will nodded, even though he didn’t understand.

Isaac looked at the boy and broke out laughing because he looked so puzzled.

“Keep an eye on my arm when I press the stone up. Do you see?” He pointed to his muscle with his chin. “Once my arms were almost twice as thick, and I want them to be like that again. I’m starting with a small stone, and gradually I’ll take bigger ones. The heavier the stone is, the thicker my arm will become with time.”

“And the other one?” Will pointed to the left arm that was hanging limply at his side. “Can’t you make that one thicker, too?”

Isaac didn’t reply. How could he lift a stone with an arm that had no hand to hold it?

Will couldn’t suspect how much this question would occupy Isaac in the next few days.

“Grab hold of it!” he asked the boy one day, proudly extending his right arm to him. Will put his arms around it and pulled his legs up. Isaac was pleased to see he could carry the boy with his arm only slightly bent. His exercises had helped—the arm had gotten back its strength.

“Now the other one,” Will demanded.

Hesitantly, Isaac stretched out the stump of the other arm.

Will wrapped his arms around it and pulled without raising his feet from the ground. He pulled as hard as he could until Isaac’s arm began to tremble under the strain, and at once let go.

“Not a bad idea!” Isaac tousled the boy’s hair as he always did when he wanted to show him affection. “We can do that again!”

Will nodded happily. “Then it will get as strong as the other one!”

They practiced every day to make sure Will’s prediction came true, and before spring Isaac could lift the boy long enough to recite the Lord’s Prayer twice, without hurrying. The muscles in his arms, shoulders, and back became steadily stronger, and one day he started doing one-arm pushups. When he was able to do that easily with his right arm, he made a pillow for the stump that had completely healed in the meanwhile and practiced with the left arm as well. As his muscles grew stronger, so did his desire to go back to work in the smithy.

“Isaac can hold me for a long time on his outstretched arm!” Will proudly told everyone one evening.

Ellen cast an angry look at Isaac while Jean and Rose smiled at him warmly.

“I’d like to come back to the smithy tomorrow,” Isaac said. “Perhaps, with Peter, I could…”

“It’s your smithy,” Ellen replied gruffly.

Isaac said nothing.

“Peter will be happy,” Jean said. “We have lots to do, and it would be great if someone else was there to help.”

Ellen avoided looking at Isaac again.

“Why didn’t you try to change his mind?” Ellen snapped at Jean as soon as Isaac left the room.

“Why should I do that? For two years you have been annoyed that he isn’t working. Have you seen his arm? He has regained his strength, I’ve observed him, and he’s laughing again, too.”

“Barely has a smile started to flicker on his embittered lips and you’re already doing cartwheels! We’ll have to put up with his bad temper all the time.” It was clear she was furious.

“Why are you so out of sorts?” Jean asked bluntly.

“Why am I…what?” Ellen gasped. “Have you forgotten that he thinks my place is in the kitchen and not in the smithy?” she replied, rubbing her index finger against her temple.

“Are you afraid he would send you back into the house to work?” Jean asked, in disbelief.

“I couldn’t care less what he thinks, but I like working with you all and want it to stay that way. He’ll only make trouble, and that won’t be at all good for our work.”

Jean tried to reassure her: “If you are right, you can throw him out again. I don’t think he’ll ever become essential for our work unless he works well with us and recognizes you as the master.”

“But that’s just exactly what he
won’t
do!” Ellen said angrily.

Aha, that’s the real problem
, Jean said to himself, without letting on to it.

“Give him a chance! See what he can do! You don’t have to work with him—let Peter do that. Moreover, it would be good for Will!”

“What does the boy have to do with it?” She looked at Jean defiantly.

“He adores Isaac, and if he can work again as a smith, that can only be good for Will. You know what he thinks about smithing.”

“Nonsense, Will is still a stubborn child and wants to have his own way, but he’ll become a smith just like his forbears, and I’ll see to it he’s a good one.” Ellen placed her arms on her hips defiantly.

“You can’t force him…” Jean objected, because he understood why Will was behaving that way.

“Oh, indeed I can! He is not going to waste his talent, I’ll see to that!” Ellen shouted.

The look on Jean’s face seemed to be saying,
What do you know about your son’s talents?

“It’s Isaac’s smithy and I can’t keep him out, but I’ll only work with him under one roof if he holds his tongue,” Ellen warned.

Jean nodded. He could understand her concerns. She had fought so hard to try to reach her goals and had put up with a lot more than any other smith—yet he also thought that Isaac deserved a chance. Jean decided to talk to him and then went out looking for him. He found him behind the woodshed sitting in the straw. Without saying a word, Jean sat down alongside him.

“She hates me so much!” Isaac said.

“You haven’t made it easy for her—from the very beginning. Have you forgotten that?” Jean pulled a little blade of grass out of the pile of straw.

“I have had a lot of time to think. Much has changed, and I look at a lot of things differently today than before, but some things are still the same.”

Jean gave him a quizzical glance. “To tell you the truth, I’m just as confused as before.”

Isaac grinned. “Then you must feel the way I do. I don’t know if I can bear watching her bossing you around. Under these circumstances,” he said, raising his left arm, “I don’t even know if I can work in the same shop with her. I’m neither blind nor deaf. I know she has made a good reputation for the smithy, so she must have some ability, but I still don’t know if I can stand thinking of her as better than I am. If I still had my hand, I could run circles around her!” Isaac sounded more despairing than aggressive.

“You’re mistaken, Isaac!” Jean said.

“What do you mean?”

“Isaac, I have seen your work. You are a good smith, but she is more than just good, she is gifted. I’m sure there are no more than a handful of smiths in England and Normandy who can measure up to her. If she were a man, she would already be famous—not only in East Anglia but even outside of England, believe me!”

“I just can’t,” Isaac groaned. “It’s so unfair!”

“What is there about it that is unfair?” Jean looked at Isaac, wondering.

“Do you think it is just, perhaps, that the Lord has blessed a woman, who is already beautiful, with a talent that would have brought great honor to a man? And why did he take my hand away from me?”

“Perhaps the Lord wants you to learn humility and to realize that it is He, and not us men, who decides who receives His blessings! Just look at how she works, and how hard, and you can’t help but admire her. And perhaps someday you will thank the Lord for sending this wonderful woman to you to be your wife.”

Isaac looked at Jean, deeply moved, and did not reply.

“She is a very special person! If you desire her for her beauty, you must earn her through your respect, and that is not something you can acquire through your skill as a smith but only if you climb down from your high horse and recognize her abilities.”