He was turned out again and was watched over the next few days, to be sure the metal plates did not cause lameness or, far more importantly, come off. The fifth day, a hind sandal did get sucked off by the thick mud in the pasture from the heavy spring rains.
Canyd and Alun passed the lost rim back and forth, noting the way that three of the five nails had come out and were sticking out of the rim. We found the other two in the pony’s foot: they had broken off, but-and this was important-they had not made him lame by remaining.
“They don’t sit in firmly enough, though, even with the tapering,” Alun said, holding the erring nail up between thumb and index finger.
“But the other rims stayed on,” I reminded them. “Three out of four is good.”
“Aye,” Canyd said, “for want of the right nail, the sandal was lost… and so would the horse be.”
“Maybe”-and Alun pondered this before he spoke again, “maybe-if the nail is turned down-hooked, so to speak-on the outside, it will not pull out as easily.”
“Aye, that would clinch it in place,” Canyd agreed, nodding.
“I will make the nail a little longer, then,” Alun said, motioning me to take my position at the bellows to heat up the fire, “to be hammered down on the hoof. It wouldn’t hurt the animal, would it?” Canyd shook his head.
THIS TIME THE SANDALS remained on a full two weeks.
“Problem with all these sandals and nails,” Alun said when Canyd and I were jubilant to see success, “is that the hoof of a horse grows, or he rubs the sandal on hard ground and gradually wears the nailhead down… or gets grit between hoof and sandal… or …”
“You’ve to train men to make the rims,” Canyd said thoughtfully. “You’ve enough work on your hands just making arms an’ tools. A man’d have to be sent along with the horses, an’ with plenty o’ nails, I ‘sped, in case a shoe came loose or got lost.” His wink at me was significant.
I stared back at him aghast, silently turning my thumb in my own direction.
“And why not you, lad?” Canyd went on. “You’ve been in on the work since it started.” Then he added slyly, “‘Tis one way to get to be with Comes Artos, isn’t it?”
I know I must have flushed to realize that Canyd knew of my devotion. But that remark settled my future. I was only glad that Alun agreed, grinning at me with his eyes so lost in the folds of his cheek flesh that only a twinkle remained.
“But… but… you’ve sons …” I began in humble protest. Even if their suggestion was my dearest wish come true, I was surely not the one to be chosen. “And Ratan, your apprentice-”
“None of whom can ride well enough to move with an army, lad,” Alun said. “And I’d need them here.” He gestured around the forge, with its buckets of arrowheads waiting to go to the fletcher, and lanceheads, and all the farm paraphernalia. “To do what they’ve been trained up to do.” He nodded emphatically.
“Still an’ all, you’ll have to train up other lads, like our Galwyn here, to know how to make the horse sandals,” Canyd said.
“Aye, I will, won’t I? But”-and now Alun pointed his thick burn-scarred finger at me-“you’ll need to know more than just how to make the sandals. That’s only part of the whole.”
“Aye, ye’ll need to know the foot of a horse, and the leg, and what can go wrong with both. No hoof, no horse.”
I rolled my eyes at Canyd for that but he, too, waggled a forefinger at me.
“I know more ways to ease a lameness than stooping legs in water, m’lad, and you’ll have to learn ’em all.”
That very day at the evening meal, they approached Teldys, with me in reluctant tow, and asked to have me assigned to them for teaching. Teldys had, of course, been apprised of all their efforts to make a horse sandal, and he even came to inspect the pony who wore the first sets.