by K T Findlay
Deena and Deana raised their left eyebrows in harmony with each other.
‘And these,’ Thomas went on, ‘are Oscar, Oswin and Sigeberht, each with their own special talents.’
He turned in his saddle to introduce the others. ‘These five ladies we met on a forest ride. Freawaru and Storm are blacksmiths, Topaz and Jade are polishers, and Scarlett can read and write.’
Gundy and Grimhild goggled again. ‘Blacksmiths?’ they cried. ‘Girl blacksmiths?’
Freawaru frowned in annoyance.
‘Yep.’ replied Thomas. ‘None of my doing either!’
‘And someone else who can read and write?’ shouted the children again.
Scarlett waved shyly.
‘And that,’ he pointed to the rear of their column, ‘is Kelsey. A really good man to have on your side, and a great friend of Hengist. He completes our company.’
Oscar sidled up to Obsidian’s flank, and stroked his neck before looking up, his face filled with worry. ‘So will you be leaving soon to fight Thegn Grimketil?’
Thomas shook his head. ‘No Oscar. We have a lot of things to do before that happens. You’ll have to put up with us for a year yet.’
‘Hurrah!’ shouted Sigeberht.
‘Hurrah!’ shouted the others, their faces filled with relief.
So it was a happy company that entered the village a little later, but nothing compared to the joy of Hengist and Kelsey as they embraced for the first time since the King’s anger.
Thomas spent the rest of the day directing the unloading of the carts, making sure the carters were looked after for the night, and ensuring the horses’ welfare. He was helped assiduously by the five children, who were desperate to show him how they had progressed on the tasks he had left them only a week before.
Sigeberht and Oswin boasted that they had designed their crane, in their heads at least. They were certain it would work perfectly, but they hadn’t actually built any of it yet.
Gundy just smiled at this, but carefully, so the boys didn’t see her do it.
Oscar told of how he, Gundy and their father had already managed to square off the floors of the new bowyery and school extensions to the hall. They were trying to work out how they could square up the walls without having to rebuild the outer walls of the hall itself.
Grimhild sang him the words for the song that Lynette had written. Twice.
By then the horses had been seen to, the carts unloaded and their contents stored in the appropriate places, and it was time for dinner.
The following morning, Thomas hit the ground running. He sent the coterie off to do archery practice under Berthilda’s instruction, except for Scarlett who he took to school. He needed to know where her skills lay compared to the rest.
She turned out to be a confident woman, secure in her knowledge of letters and numbers, but Gundy rocked her back on her heels right from the start, when she counted up to a hundred by starting from zero.
‘But what is zero?’ asked Scarlett.
Thomas applauded Oscar’s explanation, then told them to take Scarlett through all of the homework he’d set them before he’d left for Tamworth. After that he left them to it, while he visited the smithy.
‘Welcome back Prince Wulfstan! We have something to show you!’ cried Smith over Buck’s hammering.
He walked over to the forge, pulled out a roughly cylindrical lump of red hot metal from its coals and placed it on the anvil. A loud clang rang out as Buck gave it a relatively gentle tap with his hammer, and to Thomas’s delight there were almost no sparks.
‘Excellent!’ he breathed. ‘Oh very well done my friends! Pure iron, and so soon!’
‘It worked perfectly, just as you said. We put bits of old iron into the crucible with some white sand and a little bit of broken glass, sealed it, then cooked it in the furnace as hot as we could make it, and this is what we got. Pure iron!’ said Smith, grinning broadly.
Thomas nodded enthusiastically. ‘Just the one?’ he asked.
‘We did one in the first firing, then five in the second. Each billet has more than enough metal to make a sword, just like you said.’ Smith pointed to four more metal cylinders, and one that was broken into three parts.
‘This one,’ he said, picking up the three bits, ‘was the first. We put it into the forge so we could work it, but it broke at the first blow. So we’ve learned to hit it more gently now.’
Thomas nodded. He knew the chemistry involved, and why the iron was so brittle and reluctant to change shape, but without a microscope he wasn’t going to be able to explain it to them. What he could explain though, was the next step in the process, and not just to the smiths.
Wulfstan sat on his shoulder throughout, paying attention to everything that was happening. Partly it was so he’d be able to pick things up if there was another body swap, but mainly because he was genuinely interested. He was however, beginning to wonder if he’d ever return to his own body! It had been a long time since he’d been the one in control.
Using a simple balance scale, Thomas weighed each “sword billet”, then measured out enough pure charcoal dust to make just over 1% of the billet’s weight. That was added to the billet in a new crucible, with more sand and glass. The carbon in the charcoal would alloy with the iron to make the steel, while the sand and glass would attract away any remaining impurities, as well as act as a flux to reduce the overall temperature required to melt the steel. If all went well, each crucible would produce a billet of uniform, high carbon steel.
There were just two things that concerned him about this approach. Firstly, in an ideal world he should be adding other carefully measured things to the mix such as manganese, chromium, nickel, molybdenum, vanadium etc. to get exactly the right mix, but this wasn’t an ideal world and it simply wasn’t possible.
The second concern was a bit more of a worry, and that was that he didn’t have any idea about how much carbon was already in the iron. Ideally they’d get rid of it all in the smelting process, but that really required air to be bubbled through the metal in the crucible, and that too was beyond him for now. So he’d just have to trust to luck and assume it was low after the first crucible melt had taken out most of the slag.
He knew that by adding a large amount of carbon, and 1% was a very large amount indeed, he’d get a blade that would take on a lovely edge and be easy to sharpen, but it would also be brittle and prone to breaking. On the other hand, if he went for something like 0.45% carbon, then the sword would be a lot more flexible and less prone to snapping, but the edge wouldn’t be as good.
Of course he could use different types of steel for different bits of the blade, lower carbon steel for the core to provide the flexibility, and higher carbon steel strips welded to it for the edges, getting the best of both worlds. That would do well enough, but Thomas wanted to use a single billet if he could.
The trick to making it work with his high carbon steel was to forge it at a lower than expected temperature, and once the blade had been finalised and quenched, to retemper it back down until the core achieved a more usable level of hardness. This was how the famous Ulfberht swords had been made, and Thomas knew they’d been far and away better than anything else for hundreds of years.
Which all sounded easy enough, but knowing how something was done and actually doing it were two completely different things, as anyone faced with walking a high wire fifty feet above the ground could tell you!
Team work was also a big deal, so he went and brought all the women to meet Smith and Buck. There was a degree of professional reserve between the local smiths and the Freawaru family, but that was only to be expected. He dealt with this by having them work together to set up the two huts next to the smithy as additional forges for the newcomers. As it rapidly became clear that both sides knew their stuff, mutual respect grew, and the cooperation improved.
To keep the villagers sweet, Thomas made sure those hut’s original families went into much nicer huts nearer the quay, where th
ey’d have a quieter life away from all the banging!
✽✽✽
By the time the team was putting the finishing touches to the new forges, Polhard had reached Grimketil’s manor and was sitting down to a nice horn of beer.
‘News of the King’s bet has spread across the land my Lord, and I have information for sale that may interest you.’ he said smoothly.
Grimketil looked at him impassively. ‘I wasn’t aware that I wished to buy any information.’
Polhard nodded. ‘Your prowess is as well known as the King’s bet, but you may find it easier to win that bet if you know what your opponents are up to. I can help you there.’
‘I don’t need your help master slaver.’ said Grimketil.
‘Fair enough. I apologise for my mistake and shall trouble you no further my Lord.’ Polhard replied, rising to his feet and draining his horn ‘I wish you good luck, and thank you for the beer.’
Grimketil raised his hand. ‘Wait. What exactly is it that you are proposing?’
Polhard remained standing. ‘I can tell you how many of his girls Wulfstan now has, and what they look like under arms.’
Grimketil stared at him impassively. ‘And your price?’
Polhard doubled the figure originally in his head, and then wished he’d doubled it again when Grimketil nodded his agreement without haggling further.
‘He has all ten –’
‘What? Already?’ gasped Grimketil. ‘Is he taking just any old thing that comes across his path?’
‘Quite the contrary my Lord. Five of them he took from my own stock. They’d escaped, killing two of my best men and stealing their horses. The rest of my men then cornered and were about to kill them when Prince Wulfstan rode up with his other five, plus a mounted man at arms. I arrived to negotiate, placing some men in the trees,’ he smiled, ‘in case negotiations didn’t go in the way I wished them to.’
‘Very wise.’ said Grimketil.
‘But not wise enough my Lord. The Prince somehow saw them getting into position, and instructed one of the women to shoot her arrows into the forest, ostensibly after game. She killed three of them in half a minute.’
Grimketil’s eyebrows shot up. ‘One woman?’
‘One woman, three arrows, three kills, in less than thirty seconds.’
‘And you say the five escaping slaves killed two on their own? How?’ asked Grimketil.
Polhard shrugged. ‘We’re not entirely sure. Both bodies had bloodied heads, probably hit with rocks, but the fatal wounds came from their own spears.’
Grimketil gasped again. ‘Their own spears! And these men of yours, were they skilled?’
Polhard nodded. ‘Not to the level of you or your men my Lord, but yes they were skilled, and strong.’
Grimketil stroked his chin. ‘So they must have been surprised.’
‘Quite, my Lord. They didn’t have the required information…’ Polhard’s smile was positively catlike now.
Grimketil pursed his lips. ‘Anything else?’
‘Yes my Lord. The Prince then bought many goods in the Tamworth market, iron, copper, lead, knives, shields, spears, cloth, shoes, and leather.’
‘Horses?’
‘He had those already my Lord, top quality too.’
Grimketil considered this for a moment. ‘And can they ride?’
‘It varies my Lord. One or two can ride extraordinarily well, three of them hardly at all, the others somewhere in between. I only saw them riding on the way into the forest, and on the way back to Tamworth. They weren’t mounted when they practiced with their weapons on the meadow.’
‘And how did they seem with the weapons?’
‘They were mainly terrible my Lord. Two of them could hardly wield their scramseaxe knives at all, four were slow and cumbersome. Two of mine, blacksmiths and therefore strong, did much better, but they lacked any real skill.’
He paused.
‘And the remaining two?’
‘Ah, a redhead and a brunette, both well made women, very confident and strong. They set about each other with sword and shield. They couldn’t threaten any of your men yet, but they knew what they were doing. A man called Kelsey was doing the teaching.’
Grimketil frowned. ‘He’s good. A friend of Hengist. Knows his stuff. That’s a pity. The redhead will be Rowena, and the brunette Berthilda. I’m not surprised they performed well.’
Then he came to a decision. ‘You were quite right to come to me with this information. It is indeed worth your price, and if in the future you come across any more, please bring it to me.’
As Polhard was taken away by a minion to be paid, Grimketil turned to Ward, his right hand man. ‘That boy’s doing better than I expected him to. The question is, what do we do about it?’
Ward bent down and whispered into his ear. Grimketil’s face resolved itself happily into the nastiest of grins.
✽✽✽
Once the new forges were up and running, Thomas had Freawaru create a set of iron dumbbells ranging in weight from one to three pounds.
He and the women took it in turns to find the heaviest one they could each comfortably handle to mimic sword movements, and not get exhausted. Speed and stamina were going to be more important than hitting hard.
‘This is all very well,’ noted Storm part way through, ‘but these are nothing like the real thing. Here the weight is balanced in the palm of the hand, but a sword’s weight lies out near the end of the blade, and that changes everything!’
‘Stage two!’ said Thomas. ‘Go and make yourself a rough iron sword blank with a longer tang, half a pound lighter than that weight you’re playing with now.’
When the blank was ready, Thomas placed in on the scales and added some smaller pieces of iron until it reached Storm’s ideal weight. Then he carefully tied them in place one at time up and down the tang until the “sword’s” centre of gravity lay just two inches above the guard.
‘Okay, try that.’ he said.
Storm held the mock up with care, and began to thrust and slash. She found she could spin the blade very quickly, with perfect control over her thrusts and parries. Equally important, she could withdraw, or change a thrust’s direction far quicker than with a normal blade.
She shook her head in appreciation. ‘I see what you’ve done now. It’s much faster than any other blade I’ve ever handled.’
Then she frowned. ‘But it’s not going to be much use slashing into a mail shirt. You need weight to smash the bones underneath, and this won’t have it.’
Thomas nodded. ‘Absolutely right, but we know we’re not strong enough to wield a blade like that anyway, so there’s no point even trying. We need to be fast, to be able to lunge, hit exactly what we’re aiming for, then withdraw before they can strike back. This will let us do that.’
Rowena broke in. ‘Blade against blade that’s fine, but we’ll be carrying shields and they’ll slow us down, so what’s the point?’
‘Ah.’ said Thomas. ‘I have an answer to that too, but let’s deal with the swords first.’
When the first of the steel billets arrived, Thomas got Freawaru’s forge up to temperature, then gathered Smith, Buck, Freawaru, Storm, Topaz and Jade together for a lesson.
‘Now you’re the experts here, but when it comes to working this kind of steel, I know some things that you don’t, things you need to know if you’re going to be successful.’ He paused, looking around at their faces. Seeing no dissent, he continued.
‘Freawaru, please put the steel billet into the fire, but not in the absolute centre. Put it half way down the fire as you normally would, but slightly off to one side, and rotate it every thirty seconds or so. It’s important that it doesn’t get too hot too soon, or it will develop cracks. We need to warm it gently from cold.’
Freawaru followed his instructions until Thomas was satisfied it was hot enough to enter the heart of the coals. As the colour of the steel gradually changed, he continued his lesson.
‘Yo
u mustn’t try to work it when it’s blue hot. It’s still too cool, and hammer blows will almost certainly damage it. Continue heating it until you get a nice cherry red colour. If it turns orange, then you’ve gone too far and you need to cool it back down before attempting to forge it.
Smith raised his hand. ‘Your Highness, we often work metal hotter than that, even when it’s white hot.’
Thomas nodded. ‘Understood, but this steel is different. It mustn’t be worked above cherry red or you’ll damage it. Worse than that, you probably won’t be able to see the damage you’ve done, but the sword will be weaker as a result, and break in battle.’
Once the billet had reached the required colour, Storm took it out and held it on the anvil for Freawaru to strike.
‘Be gentle Freawaru.’ warned Thomas. ‘Smith found that the pure iron smashed easily if he hit it too hard, and this steel ingot is even more fragile. We really should have a piece of wood between the ingot and your hammer, but I trust you to be careful.’
Freawaru gave him a look that said volumes, but did as she was told. The blow made not the slightest visible change. She blinked in surprise, then hit it again with the same result. Annoyed now, she prepared to hit it harder but Thomas was watching her carefully.
‘No. Gentle, always gentle, until we’ve made the bar.’
‘But it’s not doing anything!’ she growled.
‘That’s because of its internal structure. It’s formed crystals in there that are all locked together, and they resist the metal moving. It’s okay, because those crystals will help to give us a sharp and sustainable edge once the sword is made, but for now we just have to nudge it into shape. If you go harder than what you’ve been doing, you’ll simply break it into pieces and then we have to re-melt it and start from scratch. You really don’t want to do that if you can help it!’
‘How long will this nudging take?’ asked Storm.
‘About eight hours.’
‘Eight hours!’ came the startled chorus.
‘And that’s just to form it into a bar. Then comes all the work to make it into a blade.’
