Another Governess / The Least Blacksmith: A Diptych (11 page)

When my brother returns from town, he does not have the meat or the bread for dinner. I am lying on the grass outside of the forge. I prop myself up on my elbow when I hear my brother call. He calls to me. I see my brother's empty hands, dirty and big, hanging by his sides. I do not call back to my brother. I do not ask about the meat or the bread. I have never seen my brother look so defeated. His big hands are trembling. It is strange to look at my brother standing up in his clothing without the leather apron. Across the anvil, my brother stands with the leather apron hanging down in one brown piece. It covers his shirt and trousers. As my brother approaches, I look at his shirt and trousers. The two fabrics meet along a line that crosses my brother's abdomen. My brother's abdomen is a slab with light and dark fabrics dividing it in two. He sits down beside me on the grass. He does not want to tell me his news, then he tells me his news.

There will be no delivery of bar iron to the forge. We do not have money in the bank. My brother says that he now understands our father's ledgers. Our father was not depositing money for safekeeping in the bank. He was paying the bank each month so that the bank would allow him to work in the forge. We had always believed that our father owned the forge. Our father did not own the forge. The bank owns the forge.

Tears come to my brother's eyes because he finally understands the ledgers. He had not cried when our father died. Then my brother thought he was our father's survivor. Our father's name survived in the forge. The forge survived because my brother was blacksmith. My brother's good work would carry on the good name of the forge. My brother had no reason to cry. Now he knows that the forge should not be called by our father's name. The name is really the same as the name of the bank.

My brother had seen two soldiers stationed by the outer doors of the bank and two soldiers stationed inside, one on either end of the tellers' long counter. At first my brother felt surprise when he saw the soldiers. Before the town became prosperous there was no need to guard the bank. Now the bank must be guarded. More and more money goes in and out of the bank. When thieves leave their strongholds in the wilderness in the south, they travel north until they reach a prosperous town. Before, the thieves used to pass by our town. The dilapidated buildings of the town could not interest the thieves. Now the thieves note signs of prosperity. The buildings in the town are faded, but civil ensigns fly from the ships in the bay. Tall buildings are being erected in the foreign district. Thieves can see these tall buildings from far away, from far down the coast. The thieves head straight to our town. They target the foreigners' investments. The soldiers have been stationed at the bank to keep the investments safe. They have received orders to shoot any thieves on sight. In a prosperous town, thieves are recognizable. It is easy for the soldiers to shoot the thieves.

My brother stood behind the draper in the line at the bank. The draper was depositing large bags of money. He seemed pleased to see the soldiers stationed at either end of the tellers' counter in their clean, smartly ironed uniforms. The draper is happy that the soldiers take such good care of his uniforms. The draper does not have to worry that the soldiers will be too careful with the uniforms, so careful that he will not need to produce more. Every time a soldier is injured or killed, his uniform is spoiled. No matter how careful a soldier may be, eventually he will either spoil his uniform or he will attain a new rank. When soldiers attain new ranks, they qualify for new uniforms. When soldiers are injured or killed, they are replaced by new soldiers who require uniforms. The draper could not be happier. There is no end to the demand for soldiers' uniforms. If he ever lost his contract with the agency responsible for providing uniforms to soldiers, he would kill himself at once. The life that the draper used to lead before he won his contract is so incomparable to his life today that they cannot be considered the same thing. They cannot both be called life. Killing himself is the closest thing he can imagine to his old life. He said as much to my brother. My brother asked the draper to say the name of the bank. The draper said that foreigners had bought the bank. The name is completely foreign, too foreign to be said aloud. Soon the bank will be moved to the foreign district where a greater number of soldiers will be stationed outside and inside the doors. They will do an even better job protecting the bank.

I wonder if my brother has no hope. Sitting beside me on the hill with his hands by his sides, he looks as though he has no hope. The man who sold our father's father the forge had no hope after he lost his family to a common disease. Our father's father bought the forge. Our father's father had hope. He built our house behind the forge, where the man had buried his family. He built our house right on top of the man's deceased family. He had our father. Right away, he knew that our father would surpass him as blacksmith. Our father also had hope. He had my brother. Right away, he knew that my brother would surpass him as blacksmith. Our father had hope until the end, when he lay down on the floor of the forge. He had lost his name but he continued to work in the forge with his son. He knew that his son would work hard until he earned back his name.

My brother tells me he will work even harder so that he can buy the forge from the bank. He will earn back our father's name. The sun is setting. In the house, there is only enough food for my brother. I do not mind. I am not hungry. I do not tell my brother that the doctor came to see him and made me his patient. It is better my brother does not know the doctor came. My brother has no interest in the doctor. The doctor is not a customer. The doctor never brings his tools to the forge for repair. He travels by ship to conferences where he purchases new tools. He brings only paper to the forge. My brother does not have time to think about the doctor. While my brother looks through my father's ledgers I feel between the bed mat and the frame for my clipping of our father's obituary. I crumple it into my pocket. I place the doctor's clipping between the bed mat and the frame, flattening it carefully so it does not tear. I only need one clipping of our father's obituary. I prefer that I have the doctor's clipping. I will put my old clipping on the coals on the hearth.

When I go into the forge in the morning, my brother is holding the champion's knife. He is looking at the champion's knife. I make a noise and he notices that I am standing in the double doors. My brother smiles. He asks me if I want to play mumblety-peg. My brother has never asked me to play mumblety-peg. The children play mumblety-peg down by the wharves. Even as a small boy my brother did not throw knives at the mud. He wielded the sledge. He struck the iron wherever our father indicated. My brother's voice is not friendly as he asks me if I want to play mumblety-peg. I do not answer. My brother throws the knife at the anvil. It flips once in the air and breaks apart against the horn of the anvil. I do not move. My brother picks up the largest piece of the champion's knife. The fracturing of the champion's knife has caused my brother pain. He shakes his head. He does not understand how it is possible that I failed to make something as simple as a knife. My brother tosses the piece onto the hearth. The fire on the hearth is already hot. The champion's knife lands in the center of the coals. My brother shovels more coals on top, burying it. That is the end of the champion's knife.

It is difficult to work. I cannot look at the iron on the anvil without seeing my hands on the anvil, my hands where the doctor put them on the anvil. My brother taps. He taps. He turns the iron. I need to concentrate on the iron my brother turns. I need to concentrate on sending blood to my hands as I swing with the sledge. My hands need blood to grow. My muscles need blood. It is difficult to think about the iron and the blood at the same time. They have the same taste, but the iron is hard on the anvil and blood is fluid, like iron that has melted on the hearth, remaining too long beneath the coals. The champion's knife will melt beneath the coals. The champion's knife could run through my veins. If it cooled inside my veins, my veins would harden. My body would be hard and strong. It could be shaped with a few quick blows of the sledge. My body could be sharpened.

I look at my brother's throat above the apron. His throat is big and dark. It shines with my brother's sweat. I could press my sharpened arm against his throat and the skin would part. The darkness inside his throat would spill out. It would run over my arm. My brother's head would fall from his shoulders and land on the floor of the forge. I do not want to see my brother without his head. I am surprised that I can think of such a terrible thing. My brother's head is filled with blood and if his head were not attached to his body, the blood would cool. It would harden. My brother's head would be heavy and would yield too many nails to count. I would make his head into all kinds of nails and sell them for a good price. My brother would be proud. It is easy to think about blood and iron when I remember that there is no difference between them. A person's heart is the hearth that heats the blood. There is no difference between heart and hearth.

At midday my brother lays his hammer on the workbench. He eats a heel of bread on the grass outside the double doors. I want to rest on my stomach so the sun does not shine on my face but my brother does not want me to rest. I sit upright with back against an open door and my legs straight out. My brother wants to share his idea and it is important that I am not resting when I hear it. The idea came to my brother in the night. It was a vision of his walk to the bank along the wharves. Walking to the bank along the wharves, my brother had noticed the chains that moored the ships in the bay. Up close, the chains were big, bigger than he had imagined. They were the biggest chains that existed. My brother had noticed rust on the chains. In the vision, my brother saw the rust growing, moving rapidly over the links of the chain. The iron curded all over with rust. The chains crumbled. The waves in the bay were orange with rust. My brother is thankful for the vision. It means the chains will need to be repaired soon. My brother will get a contract from the foreigners. The contract will ensure that my brother repairs the chains for the ships. It should not be impossible to secure such a contract. The draper is not the only man in the town who has the right to a contract.

Repairing hardware for such large ships will be a bigger job than ever before. Even our father would not have dreamed of such a job. When my brother gets a contract to forge hardware for the foreigners' ships, the forge will thrive. My brother will expand the forge. He will double the forge. My brother cannot be responsible for two forges, not if he is the only blacksmith. It is good to have a brother. Two brothers can be blacksmiths at two forges, two forges that have the same name. The forges are two halves of the same forge. The way my brother is talking, the foreigners' contract will double the forge in a very short period of time. I will be a blacksmith soon. My brother is happy talking about his contract. He looks toward the bay while he talks, toward the ships moored in the bay. The draper is a happy man thanks to his contract with the agency responsible for providing uniforms to soldiers and my brother will be a happy man thanks to his contract with the foreigners.

My brother cannot fulfill the terms of his contract alone. He needs a striker who can soon become a blacksmith in the other half of the doubled forge. Suddenly my brother cries out, a hoarse yell, and he throws his body against me so that I am slammed hard against the open door. The hoarse yell dies quickly into the soundless air on the top of the hill. The door bangs against the forge and the hinges creak. My brother's hands grip my arms. His fingers completely encircle my arms. My arms are the same size around as the grips on the handles of my brother's tools. I could be a tool for my brother but I cannot be his striker. I am too small. I do not fight my brother. I go limp. My brother's body is hot and wet with sweat and it presses against my body. He puts his forehead on my forehead. His breath makes my face drip. My brother releases my arms and pushes my head with his hands. He is smoothing and tugging the hair on my head with his wet forehead hard on the ridges of my brows. My face drips. It is hard to move my mouth and speak into my brother's face, but I speak. I tell my brother that the doctor came to visit. He examined me and made me his patient. Under the doctor's care I will grow quickly. I will soon have what it takes to be a blacksmith. My brother flops to the side and the hot, bright air goes between our bodies. I draw up my knees. My face is dripping with fluids. My brother wipes his nose with the back of his hand. He touches my arm with his knuckles. He wants to believe that I will grow quickly. So far nothing has helped me to grow quickly. Maybe the doctor will help. My brother does not want me to cry. He squeezes my shoulder with his gentlest grip, a grip that is much stronger than the doctor's.

In town, there is a lawyer who can draw up contracts. His office is next to the bank. Before my brother leaves to see the lawyer, he eats the last of the onions fried in butter. It is a bad breakfast, onions fried in butter. I use a lot of butter because the onion is small. My brother's lips are covered with grease, and his fingers. He pretends to be angry that his fingers are covered with so much grease. As he goes out the door of the house, he wipes his fingers clean on the front of my pants. He laughs. His touch is rough and I feel it through my pants. The blood goes to where he touches.

Alone in the forge, I stir the cold ashes on the hearth with the tongs. I feel a hard shape. I think it is the live coals beneath the ashes, but the shape is not coal. It is the champion's knife. I take hold of the champion's knife with the tongs. The metal has melted into a twisted lump, like the boll of a tree. I trim two handspans of apron string from the leather apron and make a cord to hang the lump around my neck. No blacksmith has ever forged such a lump. It is an entirely unfamiliar talisman. Even the children on the wharf would not recognize this talisman for what it was.

My brother returns with two other men who beat the ass that walks between them. The ass pulls a lorry of bar iron. My brother and the men are having a fine conversation, laughing and winking. I watch them from the top of the hill. When they arrive at the even ground in front of the forge I run behind to the house. It is cooler in the house and I throw myself on my stomach on the bed. There is a bad smell but I do not mind. I would rather smell the bad smell from beneath the bed than hear the jokes of my brother and the men. My brother does not miss my help unloading the iron. He does not shout for me. I had expected him to shout and so I let the door of the house stand open. I wanted to be sure to hear my brother's shout, to respond slowly to my brother's shout, to make him wait for my help. He does not shout. Finally I go to the forge. I step over the ass dung on the grass. The men are gone. The bar iron is stacked against the walls inside the forge. My brother is arranging tools on the workbench. He gives me a piece of bread from the white bag on the workbench. I will need to be strong for the job, the job on which the future of the forge depends.

In exchange for the help with the contract, the lawyer wants my brother to make bars to protect his windows. Thieves have been tampering with the lawyer's windows. The lawyer advanced my brother the iron to make bars. My brother is excited. He will not make any money from this job for the lawyer, but the lawyer will be impressed by the quality of my brother's work. The lawyer will become a customer. Someday the lawyer will expand his practice and open offices in another building. The windows in that building will need bars, and my brother will make the bars for a good price.

We begin work immediately. It is late in the day to begin work. My brother works so fast that my arms begin to tremble. My brother works on and on. It is deafening in the forge. I begin to listen to the tapping and the clanging as though they are separate from our motions. They are sounds that come from the forge. My arms burn. They burn as though I have laid them on the hearth. I fall forward and put my face on the hearth. I see myself fall forward. I see myself fall past my brother. I see my brother's face as I fall past. My brother looks like our father, but then our father's face changed. He put his face on the hearth. On the hearth, coals burn through my nose. The fat in my lips bubbles out through the cracks. My eyelids puff out from my eyes. My brother drags me from the hearth. He lays me on my back on the floor. He douses my face with water from the slack tub. The water turns to steam. My eyes cook, my tongue cooks. I scream. I waver on my feet. The arm that holds the sledge falls down and the sledge misses the anvil. I take a step toward the hearth. I see myself fall forward. My brother catches me easily. I do not fall on the hearth. My brother catches me. He carries me through the double doors.

The sudden quiet feels like water in my ears, like someone has poured cold water in my ears. The wind is coming from the bay and the air outside the forge is sharp with salts. I twist my neck to look up past my brother's shoulder, at the moon. My brother's shoulder is a dark curve that covers half the sky but I can still see the hard light of the moon. I shut my eyes. The smell of my brother's sweat and the animal smell of the apron mingle with the salts from the bay. I am cradled against my brother's chest but I imagine I am inside the belly of a giant fish, swimming deeper and deeper in the dark water of the bay.