Quest of the Wizardess Read online

  Bellia worked two days breaking down the old coals into a fine powder. The final process involved crushing the fine particles in a big thick stone mortar bowl with a metal pestle. At least Pock put a comfortable wooden handle on the thing, thought Bellia. Dust from the powder required Bellia to wear a cloth over her mouth and nose.

  The barrel of coals now sat as buckets of fine carbon powder.

  “Here we are.” Pock pulled a flat billet out of the coals. He pounded on it, and then took a tool that looked like a heavy hatchet and cut a ‘V’ into the middle. “This is one of the secrets.” Pock took a small ladle and dipped into the powder. “We put grains of carbon powder between the layers. It gives the steel more flex and it takes a better edge.”

  The ladle was emptied on a coarse cloth which Pock bundled up and sifted a fine layer of the powder on the still-red metal. “I want you to do that each time I make a fold.” Pock then folded the metal at the ‘V’.

  Bellia helped start the blade. By the time they finished for the night, the billet had over a hundred layers and was over two feet long. “I suppose I could do thousands, but we don’t have the time. Ten more folds tomorrow and that makes over a thousand layers. Good enough for officers’ blades,” Pock said.

  Late the next day, the blade was ready for receiving its handle. “See how this tang is twice as thick as the blade? It makes for better balance. The carpenter made these handle blanks for me some time ago. I’m going to have to pay him some money to make some more.” He showed Bellia two blanks of wood. He put the tang in the forge.

  “I want you to do this, Bellia.” Two wooden handles lay on a worktable. A brass ring and a knob with a slot in the end sat next to the handles.

  Pock pulled the tang out. It was nearly red hot and put the blade in a vise. Pock slid the brass ring up the smaller end of the tang all the way up as far as it could go against the blade part. The handles were held on either side of the tang and then Pock pressed the handles into the hot tang. The tang was burning its way to match the inside of the handles. Then Pock grabbed the knob and slid it next to the handle and bent the sharp end of the tang to keep everything together.

  “Quickly now, we quench.” Pock removed the blade as fast as he could and put the whole sword into a water-bath.

  A few minutes later, Bellia pulled out the sword. “Now what?”

  Pock straightened the end of the tang to remove the knob and the handles fell off.

  “Nillie and Hella braid cording and leather strips to cover the handles. We just tie the handles together now with a piece of string and set the sword in that frame over there with the slots.” Pock nodded to a long rack the carpenter had delivered during the day.

  ~

  That year, Bellia grew. The constant heavy work of the smithing added muscle to her growing frame. Bellia traced her growth on a wooden stud in the shop. She now was as tall as her mother, and she could feel changes in her body. She didn’t think her growing had stopped. Bellia figured she would end up at least as tall as her father, who wasn’t too tall for a man. Bellia looked at her wrists. She had just grown out of another set of clothes.

  Bellia returned to the House and rummaged around her brothers’ rooms trying to find clothes that fit. She avoided her parents’ rooms. Her eyes always lingered on the four urns. She found more spoiled food and threw that out. Bellia looked down at the sand. Only the skeleton remains of the thug remained on the sand. refreshed the spells of the House and left. Bellia couldn’t help but sigh, thinking about what might have been. Images of her family haunted her as she gathered what she would take back to Pock’s. The House no longer felt like a refuge and she couldn’t wait to return to the smithy.

  ~

  Pock nodded to Bellia one morning as they worked. “It’s time we had a reckoning. Let’s go into the house.

  A mass of coins littered Pock’s dining table.

  “Where did these come from?” she said as Nillie just finished putting them in stacks.

  “Our income for the year. King Rollack likes his taxes,” Nillie said.

  “We did all right,” Pock said. “The swords bring in a lot of coin.”

  “Your investment in our smithy has grown two times. Your share is half. That means Pock and me get half of this and you get the other.”

  “How much in taxes?” he asked.

  “Oh, they’ve been paid,” Nillie said.

  “I’m confused. I just get back what I paid in? That doesn’t make any sense to me. I thought I would get more than just what I put in.”

  Pock scratched his head. “I figured we got a lot more than this, Nillie.”

  Bellia sensed Nillie was withholding. “I want to see how much a sword costs to make and how much we get paid. Something’s just not right here, Pock.”

  “Let’s see.” Pocked looked up at the ceiling and began to count on his fingers. “The blanks cost about two guilders. The handles, a groat a side. The brass comes it at a guilder and the handle windings are about another guilder. That’s—”

  “Four guilders and two groats,” Bellia said. “How much do you get for each sword?”

  “That’s none of the girl’s business.” Nillie said to her husband ignoring Bellia.

  “We don’t work that way, Nillie,” he said, quietly. “Two crowns apiece. That’s twenty guilders.”

  “We’ve made one hundred sixteen swords. I tally each one.” Bellia said. “So we make 15 guilders and 8 groats on each sword times all the swords.” Bellia sat thinking of the sums.

  “How much do we have here?” Pock asked his wife.

  “600 guilders.”

  “And there should be over 1,800.” Bellia looked at Nillie, who started to redden. “Those taxes are high.”

  “Who taught you sums?” she asked, folding her arms.

  Bellia tried to keep her anger in check. The woman tried to cheat her. Bellia looked at Pock. “Did you know about this?”

  The blacksmith shook his head in despair. “Nillie. The lass has worked beside me for more than a year. Why?”

  “It’s your smithy, Pock. Not hers. She owes you for everything she’s got. We need to take care of our own. She’s just a little girl, anyway.” Bellia was a head taller than Pock’s wife and bristled at being called a little girl.

  “I keep my word Nillie. Where’s the rest of the money? How much do we owe you Bellia?”

  “Let’s say half is nine hundred guilders and I pay you a guilder a day for apprentice fees and room and board. That’s 600 for me. Except for taxes.”

  “A guilder a day? That’s way too much girl. A couple of groats is more like it,” Nillie said.

  If you want me to stay, those are my terms,” Bellia said. It wasn’t the money. She figured she still had three times more than this in the exotic coinage back at the House.

  Pock looked at Nillie. “Bellia here’s going to manage the smithy money from here on out. How much for taxes?” He looked at his wife, with her arms folded and her lips clamped shut. “Don’t say anything. I won’t know if you’re telling the truth.”

  “How dare you!” Nillie walked into their bedroom and slammed the door shut.

  “This time the taxes will come out of our share. Take all of this. It’s yours. We’ll settle the taxes next year,” Pock said.

  Bellia went to bed depressed. It looked like she’d be leaving Pock’s smithy. She liked Pock and the work had served its purpose to keep the memories of her family at bay. But she didn’t feel as though it was her place to manage Pock’s money and she certainly didn’t trust Nillie. No, she’d have to leave before she felt ready.

  The next morning, Pock knocked on Bellia’s door before dawn.

  “It’s open,” Bellia said.

  Pock came in with a lantern. “She’s gone. Took our pewter pot s and our best kitchen knives and I don’t know how much money, but our strong box is empty. Left me this note. I can’t bring myself to read it.” Pock sat down on the floor, covering his head with his arms.

  Be
llia read the note aloud. “If you can’t trust me, we are through. I’m moving in with my sister. Don’t try and follow me. Hella knows where I went. I don’t think she wants to go home. She can cook and clean for you. My sister will not appreciate a visit.”

  “That’s it?” Pock said.

  “I’m afraid there’s nothing more. Have things been difficult between you?” Bellia didn’t know if she should ask, but Pock looked extremely distressed.

  “Oh yeah. I haven’t slept in that bedroom for years. I used to come out here most nights when I didn’t have an apprentice. She’d be spending more time at her sister’s than here if it wasn’t for all the sword making.”

  Bellia had an awful thought. “Have you met her sister?”

  “No. Hella has, it’s her aunt, after all.” Pock face lit up with an awful realization. “Perhaps I should have a talk with Hella. But I can’t afford you any more. She took all our money.”

  “She didn’t take mine. Why don’t we stick with the same agreement? Only I get my investment paid back while we earn--a third to you, a third to me and a third to pay back my investment. After that it’s fifty-fifty, just like this year.”

  Pock looked at Bellia with hope in his eyes. “I’ll agree. Maybe you can put it in writing and make it official.”

  ~

  Bellia busily sharpened the swords while Pock traveled to Nillie’s sister’s village. He had missed her more than he admitted and wanted her back. Having the smithy to herself gave Bellia a chance to think and that wasn’t a good thing. She sunk further into depression. She had just turned sixteen and Pock could cast her out on the streets at any time, especially if Nillie returned.

  She knew that if that woman returned, she’d find another village. At least she now had a trade, even if it was one unsuitable for a woman. Pock had taught her well and while Bellia might not have enough experience to be called a journeyman, she possessed enough knowledge and skill to make swords and a number of other things on her own.

  She paused as he saw Pock and his niece turn into their lane. Nerves leached the strength out of her as Pock came closer. Not wanting to get hurt, she decided to keep at her work until Pock approached her with the news.

  “She’s got another husband and a couple of little kids.” Pock looked vanquished. Hella reddened at her uncle’s report. “Says someone else stole the money and stuff and she left because she was afraid that I’d beat her.” He rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. “That’s all nonsense, of course. I’ve never laid a hand on the woman. Nothing I can do, is there?” He wiped away the tears from his watery eyes.

  Bellia had to hide the fact that this was good news to her. She bit her lip. “No. The money’s probably buried in their back yard or wherever they live.”

  “Cobbler. No back yard, he lives above his shop.” Hella finally said something.

  “You knew all this time?” Bellia asked.

  Hella nodded. “Auntie made me promise. When she was a few months away from delivery, she’d always say her sister was sick and we wouldn’t see her for half a year.”

  Bellia looked at Pock. “Married?”

  “Hella, let’s take our things in the house. I’ve got to speak to Bellia alone after that.”

  An hour later, Pock looked better. “I took a bath. Made me feel better, but I don’t think I’ll ever wipe all the grime off. To think she had that man for seven years, under my nose. I used to buy his scrap leather and thongs right here in Greenwell. Some years back he up and left to go the other village. That’s about the time Nillie told me about her sister needing her. And I swallowed it.” Pock spit in the dust.

  “Pock. You’re better off without her. And think of it this way, you’re free to find another woman.”

  The blacksmith scratched his head. “Mmm. Never thought of it that way. I guess I’m free to do whatever I want. I still miss her.” He sniffed, but clapped Bellia on the shoulder. “Thanks, lass. Let’s get to work. Show me what you’ve done.”

  ~

  “Another good year.” Pock stared at the piles of coins on his table. “War has got to start soon. It’ll be never-ending demand.”

  Now that Bellia was working on the inside forge to split the work, the pair could put out a sword a day.

  “Two hundred and seventy this year.” Bellia said. “Not only that, but our swords are in demand. Once we hired the two widows to wind the handles, we’ve done really well.”

  “How much for housekeeping?” Pock asked.

  “I set aside a guilder a day contribution, so we’ve even got a little fund from that.” Bellia felt really pleased. Bellia had shot up in the last year and now stood as tall as Pock and her body had filled out with all of the heavy work. She wasn’t quite as strong as Pock, but she could easily manage just about every task Pock could.

  Hella brought in three mugs of ale.

  “Here’s to the business.” Pock said. The three raised their mugs and drank.

  Later, Bellia left the house and made her way to her room through the shop.

  “Bellia.” Hella sneaked up behind and touched her ear as Hella said her name.

  Bellia jumped up, not expecting anyone behind her.

  “What is it?”

  “I just thought you and I… you know.” Hella smiled and moved her body closer to Bellia. “Uncle likes you and so do I.” She jumped up and kissed Bellia on her cheek.

  “I like both of you too, but as friends.” Bellia felt confused. She’d never had an encounter with a girl or a boy before and didn’t know quite how to react. One thing she was sure of, Bellia was not attracted to other women. She felt a little sick about letting the girl down and moved away from Hella. “I’ve got to get some sleep. Lots of work tomorrow. Good night.”

  Hella just stood there. Bellia turned and gave her a little wave and a sickly grin as she escaped into her room and locked the door. Sweat beaded her brow and she felt the heat of embarrassment in her face. The door handle moved and Bellia jumped.

  “Good night, Bellia,” Hella said from behind the door giving it a little knock. She heard Hella’s footsteps fade into the night. Bellia lay back on her bed with her hands underneath her head, thinking about what to do. The last thing she needed was this kind of thing to happen. Nillie was bad enough as a harridan and a thief. Did her future lie with Pock and his sword making operation with the complications of a woman attracted to her? Visions of a future working with Pock had turned into a blank. For the last three years, she approached life one day at a time, but Bellia couldn’t work here in the future with Hella looking at her like that.

  ~

  Pock had words with the officer who came for his monthly shipment of swords. Bellia looked on from her work inside the smithy. Their chat was longer than usual. “Just as I thought. King Rollack is aiming to invade South Wansua,” Pock said as he walked in to talk to Bellia. “They want us to make a different kind of sword. Something longer and heavier with less balance for the horse soldiers to cut down infantry. A couple of soldiers will be here in a few days to bring a sword for the pattern.”

  Something came to Bellia’s mind from a class her father gave him on arms. “A cavalry saber, most likely. Do King Rollack’s army have much in the way of armor?”

  Pock looked surprised at Bellia’s knowledge of arms and armor. “No, just leather and chain mail. Armor is only for the gentry and with the new crossbows being able to punch through all but the heaviest armor, even that is falling out of favor. Where did you learn about military things?”

  “Something my father taught me.”

  “Oh, aye. Your father was a teacher. I nearly forgot.”

  “Mmm, so did I. They are curved with only one sharp side. I think we can make them with fewer folds, but more metal. A bit more profit per blade, because they won’t take as long to make.”

  Each night, Hella knocked on Bellia’s door. Each night, Bellia told her as politely as she could, to leave her alone. On the third day, a pair of soldiers walked into the smi
thy, a woman and a man, both dressed in the King’s uniform.

  “You Pock’s daughter?” one of them said to Bellia.

  “No, I’m the apprentice.”

  The woman soldier eyed Bellia up and down. “You’re a well built lass. How old are you?” The woman had piercing green eyes and red hair fashioned into one thick braid that ran down her back.

  “Seventeen.”

  “Ever want to be a soldier? King Rollack has a woman’s brigade, I’m in it. You sure have the build of a warrior maid.” She spoke with an unfamiliar accent.

  “Never thought about it.” Bellia stood, uncomfortably, waiting for Pock to show up.

  “You ever change your mind, we’re camped ten leagues south, just outside of Northwood.”

  “Northwood.” Bellia gave the woman a half smile just as Pock entered the smithy.

  “Soldiers, Pock.” She felt like a fool. Pock knew what soldiers looked like.

  “Got the sword?”

  “Name’s Menna.” The female soldier thrust out her hand to Pock. “That there’s Will.”

  “Private Will, if you don’t mind.”

  “I mind.” Menna grinned. Bellia could see Menna enjoyed her jab. She unwrapped a long bundle, revealing a mildly curved sword in a scabbard. Menna handed it to Pock.

  “Heavy.” Pock looked at the soldiers and then at Bellia as he drew the sword. “Need to have a strong wrist with this.” He made a few swipes with the blade. Bellia could see that most of the weight played out along the blade, with little in the hilt. Pock handed it to his apprentice.

  Bellia stepped back. Her time working in the smith had made her strong. She felt the mediocre sharpness of the edge. A descending blow put pressure on her wrist, but it was equal to the blade.

  “There’s a lot of force in that downward slash.”

  Menna smiled. “You bet. It’s worthless on foot, but on a horse, it’s a formidable weapon.”