Chapter 4
It had only been three days since Autumn and Benedict left on their trip but, already, the little town of Ravenscar was bustling with tradesmen. Word had spread quickly about the death of the infamous past lord of the castle, and now ships were docking at the port. Traveling merchants were arriving by cart or on foot.
The town was still a long way from being presentable, but the tradesmen didn’t seem to mind. Ravenscar had, at one time, been a well-known port, and the excitement that it was no longer off-limits not only brought people from near and far but also helped lift the spirits of the townsfolk. All except for Wallace.
“Wallace, come help me,” said Winter, hammering out a peel that was for the baker. The peel, or shovel-like tool, was constructed with a flat sheet of metal attached to a long wooden pole. The wooden pole didn’t get as hot in the ovens and was easier to hold than one made of metal. However, the thin metal end was easier to use in scooping up the loaves of bread. “We have orders to fill from some of the visitors and tradesmen and need to work faster. We have a shield to fix for Sir Eldon from Canterbury, and a chatelaine from a neighboring castle wants us to duplicate a key. Not to mention, Father George said one of the hinges broke on the door to the church. I told them all we’d have the work done today.”
“I’m doing all I can to keep up with you,” said Wallace, fumbling with a punch and saw. “Lady Winter, this is too much. We need to hire more help. I wish my son were here.”
Winter noticed the wave of emotion wash over Wallace’s face. He didn’t look well. Wallace was not much help and probably wouldn’t be until his heart was in his work. And that wasn’t going to happen until Josef returned.
She looked over her shoulder at the trunk that held the Damascus steel. It was going to be near impossible to forge a sword of that quality when she didn’t have the time. But it was the only thing that would bring Josef back to Wallace. If only she had the answers.
“Oh, no!” she heard Wallace exclaim, right before the tools went clattering to the ground. Winter looked up to see him staring out the door.
“What’s the matter?” She stepped away from her work, wiping her hands on a rag.
“It’s him.”
“Who?” she asked, stretching her neck to peer out the door. Her guard from the castle leaned lazily against a barrel, his eyes fastened on the whores standing outside the tavern a few doors down.
“De Grey. T-that’s the man who has my son.”
“De Grey?” Her eyes fastened to a nobleman dismounting his horse. His squire slogged through the mud next to him, taking the reins from his lord. Lord de Grey said a few words to her guard who straightened up and bowed to him before pointing to the door of the smithy. De Grey looked up and nodded. Then he marched toward the shop like a man with a purpose.
“Lord de Grey,” said Wallace, hurrying over to greet the man as he entered the room. The knight was very tall and had to duck to come through the door. He stepped inside and blinked, letting his eyes get accustomed to the dimly-lit room. Winter slinked back into the shadows.
“Blacksmith, I’ve come for my sword,” said de Grey.
“M-my lord,” stammered Wallace. My son – is he well? Is he with you?” Wallace looked out the window and then at the knight.
“Nay, he’s not here,” said de Grey.
“When will he return?”
“You know the deal. Once the sword is completed and meets my standards, I’ll send a ship back with your son on it. Now, where is my sword?”
Lord de Grey scanned the room and stopped when he noticed Winter. Their eyes met – his dark blue orbs perusing her from head to foot.
“Who is this, Blacksmith?” he asked, making his way across the room. Winter stood still, not sure what to do. She was donned in Wallace’s wife’s clothes and wore a leather apron. Her arms were bare – something that was uncommon to see, especially for a noblewoman.
“My lord, this is –”
“Win . . . Winnie. My name is Winnie,” she interrupted, not wanting this man to know she was a noblewoman. Not yet. First, she wanted to see what he was going to do when he found out the sword hadn’t even been started yet.
“Winnie,” he repeated, reaching out and brushing soot from her cheek. “I’ve never seen a woman working the forge before. Blacksmith, you have a very comely daughter.”
Wallace was about to tell him her identity, so Winter interrupted yet again.
“Your sword isn’t finished yet,” she boldly told him.
“Address me properly, wench,” he commanded, making her want to cry out that he should do the same to her. Instead, she forced a slight smile and nodded.
“Forgive me. My lord,” she added, pushing the words from her mouth.
“So, how close are you to being done?” He spoke to Wallace and acted as if she weren’t even there. A typical action from men, especially a nobleman who thought he was so much better than everyone else.
“I – I haven’t started yet,” Wallace said, and then cringed as he waited for Lord de Grey’s reaction.
“Don’t jest with me, Blacksmith, or I’ll have your head. We had a deal! You were supposed to have my sword completed a month ago. Now, do you have it or not?”
“He’s been very distraught lately since the death of his wife,” Winter said, stepping out from behind the anvil. “If you’ll just give us a little more time, I’m sure we can have it completed soon.”
“We?” Lord de Grey lifted one brow.
“He,” she corrected herself. “I am just here to assist him. With the little things – to help him out. Since you took his son,” she added as an afterthought.
The glare he gave her could be seen even without bright light.
“Let me see it,” he told the blacksmith, holding out his hand.
“I – I . . .” said Wallace, looking to Winter with fear in his eyes. She had to help him.
“I’ll get it,” she offered, walking over to the trunk and lifting the lid. When she picked up the metal and turned around, Lord de Grey was standing so close that she almost hit him. Her eyes traveled upward, drinking in his manly beauty. His black hair was shoulder-length and clean and very shiny. She held up the hunk of metal and waited for his reaction. His eyes grew angry and a vein bulged at the side of his neck. This was going to be a horrible situation for Wallace. She had to do something fast.
“I’ll have your head for this, Blacksmith,” he ground out, snatching the metal from her hands. When he did, their fingers touched. It seemed to jolt him. A surge of heat coursed through her.
“Please, my lord. Give him another chance,” she said.
“There is no time for second chances. I’ll take up this issue with Lord Ravenscar right away.”
“He’s not here, my lord,” said Wallace. “Please, do not hurt my son.”
“Not here? Where is he?”
“He is on a trip with his new wife and won’t return for some time,” Wallace told him.
“That’s a lie! He isn’t married,” said de Grey.
Winter stepped in to help Wallace. “The Lord Ravenscar you made a deal with is dead,” she said. “The new lord of the castle is the one of which Wallace speaks.”
“Wallace?” he looked at her oddly. “Do you always call your father by his name?”
She didn’t answer.
Martin de Grey had a hard time concentrating on the fact he wanted to kill the blacksmith. The beautiful daughter of the tradesman had taken his interest and now all he could think about was that he had to have her. Never had he seen a girl in the forge. And never in his life had he wanted to bed a common wench the way he did this girl named Winnie.
Her skin was as white as snow instead of browned from the sun like most of the lower class. Her long, black hair was tied up in a knot atop her head with a few stray pieces falling, framing her oval face. It took all his control not to reach out and push away the strand that touched her delicate, pink lips.
With her chin lifted high, she almost seemed to look down her long nose in a regal manner. She held the composure of a noblewoman even though her face was dirty and her clothes covered in soot. When her emerald green eyes met his and their hands brushed against each other mere seconds ago, he felt excitement surge through his body. Aye, he wanted her.
As angry as he was, the girl seemed confident the sword could still be crafted in a timely manner. Did he really have a choice in the matter? Sure, he could kill the blacksmith’s son and the blacksmith, too, but he still wouldn’t have a sword. This man was said to be the best in the land although, by what he was witnessing, he was starting to have his doubts. With the former Lord Ravenscar dead, there was no way to collect on the deal they’d made now. He was about to take his steel and leave when another idea came to mind. It might just work.
“Will you give him more time?” asked the girl named Winnie. Her voice was like the sweet song of meadowlarks as the raging flames of the fire rose up illuminating her body from behind. Such a delicate flower amongst the ashes. She spoke in a proper manner and, as far as he could tell, she still had all her teeth. When their hands touched earlier, he swore he smelled rosewater drifting from her body. He must have been mistaken. Most wenches smelled like ale and sweat. This girl was like an angel amongst the flames of hell. She intrigued him like no other.
“Please, my lord,” begged the blacksmith. “Give me another chance. And please don’t hurt my son.”
“You seem to care much about your children,” he said, still staring at the man’s daughter.
“I do,” he said. “I’d do anything – anything at all. Just name it.”
“I will,” said Martin, reaching one hand up to stroke his chin in thought. “You’ll come with me, back to my castle to forge my sword.”
He saw the girl’s bright green eyes light up in surprise.
“That’s impossible,” she answered with no emotion at all in her voice. She was very controlled.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because this is Wal – my father’s home,” she said. Her eyes shot over to the blacksmith and then back to him. “This is where he works. Everything he needs is here.”
“I have a smithy at Castle Heaton that is much nicer than this hole in the wall,” he told her. “I also have the most expensive equipment and everything a blacksmith could ever need.”
“If I come with you, will you release my son?” asked Wallace.
“I’ll release him when the job is finished and not before,” he told him.
“Do you promise not to hurt Josef?” asked the man’s daughter.
He chuckled and reached out and cupped her chin in his hand. “You are very bold for a wench,” he said. “But you needn’t worry about the boy because you’ll be there with your father to witness the fact I will treat him fairly.”
“Me?” she gasped and pulled away. His hand dropped to his side.
“Blacksmith, you told me you needed your daughter to assist you.”
“I – I do, my lord. But she cannot come with us to your castle. It wouldn’t be right.”
“Why not?” Martin turned to see the fear in the blacksmith’s eyes. “She comes along, or you’ll both stay here, and the deal is off.”
“What about Josef?” asked the girl. “Will you return him if we don’t go back to your castle with you?”
He chuckled and shook his head. “Josef was assurance that I’d get my sword. No sword, no Josef. It’s as simple as that. If you two don’t accompany me back to Northumberland, Josef will stay at Castle Heaton forever and you’ll never see him again.”
“I’ll go,” said Winter, having no choice in the matter. Wallace would never be able to make the sword without her. Lord de Grey could end up killing both Wallace and Josef for all she knew. She couldn’t let anything happen to either of them. Josef had to come home. If he didn’t, Wallace would be so heartbroken; he might just die.
Nay, this was the right decision she convinced herself.
“Good,” said Lord de Grey, turning and heading for the door. “Pack whatever you’ll need onto a cart and meet me at the docks in an hour.”
“That soon?” asked Wallace in surprise.
“I am anxious to collect on the debt,” he said, once again raking his eyes down Winter’s body. “Don’t make me wait, because I am not a patient man. I’ll leave my squire here to help you. Now, hurry!”
As soon as he left the room, Wallace ran over to Winter.
“Lady Winter,” he said, taking her hands in his. “I appreciate everything, but I can’t let you do this.”
“Nonsense,” she said, untying her apron. “It is the only way to get Josef. We’ll go with Lord de Grey, make his sword, and come back with your son in a few weeks.”
“What will Lord Ravenscar say?”
“I’m sure we’ll be back before he returns from his trip. Don’t worry.”
“At least tell Lord de Grey you’re a lady and not my daughter,” he begged.
“Nay,” she said, starting to douse the fire of the forge, dumping water on it. It hissed and smoke filled the room, causing her to cough. “If he knows who I am, I won’t be allowed in the forge to help you. With your poor eyesight, you know as well as I do that you’ll never get the sword completed.”
“Perhaps he’ll let Josef help me.”
Putting down the bucket, she picked up a few tools to bring with them, loading the items into a long, wooden carrier with a handle. “You said yourself that Josef never learned the skill as good as me because his heart isn’t in it. I want to do this, Wallace.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t you see? It is a dream of a lifetime to work with Damascus steel. I might never have the chance again. The idea excites me. I don’t mind the charade since I’ll get to do something I’ve always wanted to do.”
“Just tell Lord de Grey the truth, I beg you. Mayhap, he’ll still allow you in the forge.”
“You heard him when he first entered the smithy. He said a forge was no place for a wench. Do you really think he’d allow me to work if he knew I was a lady?”
“Nay, I suppose not.” Wallace shook his head despairingly. “But this could be dangerous, my lady.”
“That’s even more reason why I want to go along,” she said with a smile. The fact that she wouldn’t be allowed to do something like this made her want to do it all the more.
“What are you going to tell your guard?” asked Wallace, nodding toward the door.
“Oh,” she said, having forgotten all about that. “We’ll have to cause a distraction or perhaps send him away. Just long enough for us to get packed up and to the docks.”
“What do you suggest?” asked Wallace.
“Hmm,” she said, noticing the guard still looking at the whores. She pulled a few coins from the pouch hanging at her side and handed them to Wallace. “Sneak out the back. Give these coins to the whores and tell them to keep the guard busy for at least an hour.”
“How do you know he’ll leave his post?” asked Wallace.
“I’ll tell him I’m tired and will be taking a nap in the back room. That should work.”
“If you’re sure, Lady Winter.”
“You mustn’t call me Lady Winter. Call me Winnie, like you did when I was a child. We can’t slip up around Lord de Grey.”
Giving the man a gentle push, she sent him toward the back door. “Also, ask the whores to tell the guard when they’re finished that I am safe and he doesn’t need to come looking for me. I’ll be back in a few weeks’ time. Tell them to let him know you are with me and that we are visiting another castle at the request of the lord. That should be enough to keep him from sending a search party after me. We’ll just have to be sure we’re back in Ravenscar by the time my sister and her new husband return because I don’t think they’d agree with my decision.”