I left the carcasses to rot on the ground. Wolf skins are worthless, even a peasant can afford better. And maybe the other wolves would get a meal off of their brothers instead of killing some hapless commoner.
The next morning I gave the coup de grace to the last of my wine, cheese, and bread and found the village not a quarter mile down the trail. I caught the smith and his family on their way to church.
“But, my dear sir knight! This is Easter morning, the holiest day of the year! Surely you can’t expect me to work on this greatest of feast days!”
“Surely I can! Know that I am sworn to attend our liege lord, Count Lambert himself, on this very day at Okoitz. I cannot get there without my horse and my horse cannot travel without a shoe. You are the only blacksmith available and therefore you will do the job. Bid your family to church without you, and come with me. ”
“But to miss mass on Easter would be a great sin!”
I loosened my sword. “Not nearly so great a sin as committing suicide, which is your alternative.”
His wife kissed him worriedly and hustled their children before her toward the church. Thus she made the decision for him, though I intended the man no harm. He started to call to her, but I took him by the upper arm and moved him to his shop.
“But I am in my best clothes! I must change.”
“Very well. Do it quickly.” He went into his house and I followed. It was well built, as peasant huts go, with a brick fireplace and a real wooden floor. He stopped and looked at me hesitantly, so I drew my sword and placed it before me, point down with my palms on the pommel. He changed clothes rapidly.
“But, sir knight . . . ”
I ground the point of my sword into the floor, twisting it. He darted out to his shop. I followed.
Once he had a fire going in his forge, he said, “But I have forgotten! I have no more iron! I used the last of it Thursday and no more will come until tomorrow.”
“No iron? Then we must find you some. Hmmm … the hinges on this door are iron. It’s a start.” I ripped the door from the frame and threw it at him. It’s a pity to have to use such techniques on such a sniveling wretch, but he had exhausted my patience.
“But that’s not nearly enough and hinges are so hard to make!”
There were plenty of iron tools about, but I hate to deprive a man of his livelihood. I stalked back to his house. “That crucifix is iron.”
“But that was blessed by the priest! We can’t…”
“No, I guess we can’t. Those candlesticks … the two of them will make a shoe and nails and we can spare your hinges.”
“But I made those for my wife!”
“If your wife demands gimcracks while you lack the wherewithal of your trade, she deserves a good beating! Take them!”
It was eight hours of welding and forging, filing and fitting before my horse was shod. While I waited, his wife returned. I sent her out for wine and meat. Lent was over and I had a craving for a thick slab of roast pork.
What I got was small beer and chicken, the best-she claimed-to be had in that festering dump.
Finally, it was past none when I saddled Witchfire.
The blacksmith ran up. “But sir knight, you owe me for the shoeing!”
“The last time I had a shoe put on, it cost me eight silver pennies, so that’s what I’ll pay. And here’s another penny for the meal, though it wasn’t worth it.” I rose to the saddle.
“But the candlesticks alone were worth twice this!”
“Then next time be better prepared.” I rode out of town. Actually, I’d paid him half the money I had. My father was not a wealthy man.
We were an hour getting back to the main trail and though we pushed on as fast as I dared, darkness overtook us many miles from our destination. I had failed. There was no moon and perforce my charger and I spent yet another night under a tree.
The tierce bell was ringing as we rode into Okoitz. An old friend was at the gate; we embraced and exchanged the kiss of friendship.
“Sir Vladimir! You arrive late!”
“Aye, Sir Lestko. Witchfire threw a shoe and finding a smith on Easter … But I must apologize to Count Lambert. Where is he?”
“Your apology will be delayed as well; Lambert left at gray dawn to make his spring rounds. He may not return for months.”
“Damn! Damn and thrice damn!”
“Fear not at all. Lambert said that if you arrived today, all would be well; but if not, we should search for you on the morrow. He knows no son of your father would fail him.”
“Sir Lestko, we serve the finest lord in Christendom.”
“Agreed. But come. You have just time to wash off the road dust before dinner.”
We entered the bailey where a vast tower was under construction. “What on Earth is that thing?”
“A device of Sir Conrad’s planning. They say it will suck power from the winds and force it to do man’s bidding.”
“That smacks of witchcraft.”
“Sir Conrad claims not, though by all accounts, he’s as much warlock as warrior and a giant besides.”
“Sir Conrad? Is he the man that killed the brigand, Sir Rheinburg?”
“Rheinburg and his entire band and each killed with a single blow of the sword!”
“Unbelievable!” I said.
“But true. That German bastard’s arms are in the storeroom here without a mark on them. Sir Conrad caught him straight through the eyeslit and cut his skull in half without harming the helmet.”
“Some might call that luck.”
“Not when he killed all the others besides. I tell you he brought in four suits of armor and all of them intact save for bloodstains.”
“What manner of man is he?”
“I haven’t met him yet myself, having arrived only a day before you. They say he’s in Cieszyn and will return in a week or two. I must watch the gate until sext, but you go up to the castle; the ladies will see to your comfort.”
“Indeed!” I asked, “Is Lambert’s board and bed all they say it is?”
“Better. He has eight of them now and there are only five of us knights to keep them pleasured.”
“The poor things.” I grinned. “Well, we can only do our best.”
No one met me at the castle door, but a remarkable noise was coming from within. It sounded like a dozen mad drummers going at once, or like carpenters trying to be musicians. I followed the sound to the great hall and found there an incomprehensible flurry of activity.
There was a great table around which sat a half dozen pretty wenches. Each had a cartwheel in front of her that seemed to spin of its own accord. There were big balls of wool and complicated arrangements of thread and spools spinning with astounding speed.
Unconsciously, I made the sign of the cross.
Against one wall, two more ladies worked a great wooden machine of incredible complexity, with thousands of strings and levers and moving parts.
Against the wall opposite stood three huge bolts of cloth.
One of the girls at the spinning wheels noticed my entrance, stopped her work and greeted me.
“What … what is all this?” I asked.
“Lambert’s loom and spinning wheels, of course. Our lord would have us make our own cloth and stop paying our silver to those awful Waloons. You must be Sir Vladimir. Let me show you to your room.”
As she led me down a hallway I said, “These wheels and such. They are something this Sir Conrad has built?”
“Who else?”
“You know him then?”
“I don’t exactly know him.” She rolled her eyes and grinned. “I mean I was still only a peasant girl when he left, but I hear he’s just marvelous!”
“But you’ve seen him?”
“Oh, yes. He’s enormously tall and absolutely beautiful!”
“I fail to see how a man can be beautiful.”
“Then you haven’t seen Sir Conrad. This will be your room.” She scurried about, seeing that the water pitcher was filled and the chamber pot was empty. The place was remarkably clean, with a huge bed, a stool, and a wash stand.
“This will do nicely. Uh, would you help me get out of this armor? This is my first chance to remove it in three days. Two nights sleeping in chain mail is entirely too much.”
“Of course, Sir Vladimir … Oh. You need a good scrubbing, besides.”
“That is a glorious thought.” I sat on the stool and she gave me a thorough sponge bath. Very thorough.