The Copper Sign (53 page)

Greybeard yelped with joy at their arrival.

Rose came rushing out to meet them, and Jean made a good fire for them to warm themselves by, then took the rented horse back to its stable.

After having a bowl of porridge and a goblet of warm spiced wine, Ellen felt well and at home again. Only now did she notice how radiant Rose looked. Her cheeks were rosy, and her eyes sparkled.
How good it is for her not to be around Thibault anymore
, Ellen thought contentedly.

There had been almost nothing to do in the smithy, and Jean was happy to hear that Ellen had come back with renewed enthusiasm and many plans for the future.

“The next thing I am determined to do,” Ellen told Jean that evening, “is to make a sword. Then I’ll visit the estates in our area and offer my services—I mean, of course, our services. I’m tired of just making tools; I’m a swordsmith!”

“That sounds like the old you!” Jean exclaimed with great relief. “Full of zeal and pride, that’s my Ellen!”

But even though Rose and Jean were obviously happy she was back, she had the feeling things were different than before.

“Is there something going on between you two?” she asked Jean at work the next day.

“Ahem, no, what do you mean by that?” he stammered uncertainly.

“You and Rose, have you been quarreling?”

“Oh, no,” he replied, sounding a little relieved. “No, we get along just fine.”

Ellen was satisfied with that answer. She was probably just imagining that they were not getting along.

In just a few weeks, it became clear that Ellen’s plan was working. She introduced herself with a sword she had forged herself and offered her services. She received two orders for swords and the prospect of additional ones.

On an overcast December morning a few days before Christmas, the four set out for St. Edmundsbury. Ellen now had her own horse, and Jean and Rose rode on animals rented from the stable. Jean’s horse, a young sorrel, was more skittish and at first pranced about excitedly but in time got used to his rider and calmed down.

A fine drizzle accompanied them the whole way. At first the little drops of water clung to their woolen cloaks like tiny pearls, but as the rain continued to fall, the water soaked through the material, and when they arrived at the smithy they were completely drenched.

Mildred greeted them with great joy, but Ellen was shocked.

Her sister seemed completely exhausted by the pregnancy even though her delivery date was still more than two months off. She learned that Mildred’s initial sickness had not gotten better, but actually worsened each month so that instead of getting rounder with her child she looked thin and worn out. Her belly swelled out like a tumor from her emaciated body. Rose immediately recognized the seriousness of the situation and offered to take charge of the housework. Since Mildred tired more quickly than usual, she accepted at once.

“I’m really worried about Mildred,” Isaac whispered to Ellen when they happened to be alone for a moment. “She is getting thinner and thinner, and what little she eats she soon throws up again,” he said, passing his hand through his hair. “It’s good you are here.”

He, too, looked exhausted, and when Ellen asked how he was feeling his only brief reply was that he had a great deal to do recently and a few important jobs to complete. He gratefully accepted Jean’s offer of assistance but continued to decline any help from Ellen in the smithy. Ellen was angry at him for that but decided for Mildred’s sake to avoid any quarrel. And because Isaac was also clearly trying, they had a peaceful Christmas celebration. At the beginning of January, sadly, they made their way back home. Ellen urged Mildred to send someone to let her know if she needed any help, and in fact in less than two weeks Isaac’s assistant Peter came to Orford.

“Mildred sent me,” he said, out of breath because of his hurried trip. Despite the cold, both he and his horse were steaming from the exertion.

Ellen invited Peter into the house and offered him a place at the table. Rose served him a piece of bread, a bowl of porridge, and a goblet of small beer.

“What’s wrong with her?” Ellen asked impatiently.

“She is sick with worry about Isaac.”

“About Isaac?” Jean asked.

“The injury to his hand…” Peter started to say between two spoonfuls of porridge.

“Just a moment,” Jean asked. “You are here not because of Mildred, but because of Isaac?”

“Yes, I am,” said Peter, quickly gulping down another spoonful of porridge.

“Isaac burned his hand rather badly when we were there,” Jean explained.

“It was all my fault,” Peter continued. “I left the tongs on the forge, and he grabbed the iron when it was white hot.” Peter rubbed his chin in embarrassment.

“Isaac thought that such things only happen to beginners, and he was embarrassed, especially in front of you, and that’s the reason I didn’t tell you. I had to promise him I wouldn’t.” Jean shrugged. “But it ought to have healed a long time ago!”

“His hand is swollen and pus is running out of it, but Isaac isn’t doing anything about it. Mildred is afraid the wound will become gangrenous.” Peter sighed. He seemed to fear it would, also.

“For God’s sake, don’t you have any herb women in St. Edmundsbury? What can I do? I don’t know anything at all about such things.”

“Mildred already asked the midwife to have a look at Isaac’s hand. She knows about such things and says he needs to stop working for a while because otherwise it won’t heal. But he won’t even consider that. We have important jobs that aren’t finished yet, and he can’t just sit around, he says.”

“I’m surprised he even let you go,” Ellen said in amazement.

“He thinks I am here on account of Mildred. She doesn’t look very good, either, and I think she could also use help.”

Ellen looked at Jean and Rose. “I’m leaving first thing tomorrow. Jean, you’ll stay with Rose and William, won’t you?”

“Certainly, I’ll take care of everything, don’t worry.”

A shy voice spoke up at the table. “Then I wonder if I might be able to stay, after all?”

Ellen and Jean turned around and looked at him in astonishment. In the excitement over Peter’s unexpected arrival they had completely forgotten the journeyman.

The young smith’s journeyman had come to see them that morning to ask about work. He seemed to be a pleasant fellow and his sample piece was good quality work, but Ellen and Jean were managing fine with just the two of them and had only been able to offer him a hot meal and a place for the night, as was the custom.

Ellen stared at him for a brief moment. He must have been sent by heaven, she thought.

“Jean?” Ellen asked, just to make sure.

“If you are going to be away for a while, it would certainly be best,” he agreed.

“Three pennies a day, with meals, and room to sleep in the smithy, and Sundays and holidays off, of course. Do you agree?”

“I won’t get rich, but for the time being I’ll agree.” The journeyman rubbed his hands off on his shirt and enthusiastically reached out to shake Ellen’s hand. “My name is Arthur.”

Ellen shook his hand to seal the agreement. Fate had been good to both parties: Ellen could go to Mildred’s without worrying or feeling under any pressure of time, and the journeyman had been able to find work despite the winter.

“Arthur and I will work things out together, don’t worry. You can stay for as long as Mildred needs you,” Jean reassured her again the next day when she was ready to leave. “As for the sword, I’ll ask the baron for more time, as we discussed, and the other things we can do by ourselves. You can depend on me!” Jean took Ellen in his arms and patted her on the back reassuringly.

Then William came, stood up straight to give his mother a kiss on the cheek, and then quickly dashed off.

Rose also gave her a farewell embrace. “The boy is in good hands with me!”

“I know that, you are a better mother to him than I am,” Ellen replied with a sigh.

“Oh, don’t speak such nonsense. Go now, and take care of your sister and her husband!” Rose gave her an encouraging smile.

Ellen pulled the gugel over her head and shoulders and put on the riding gloves. A crisp, cold January was calling with a bright blue sky.

Ellen and Peter drove their horses hard in order not to waste any time, and despite the icy cold, the horses were soon warm.

They arrived in St. Edmundsbury long after dark. Even though Ellen was prepared to find her sister in poor shape, she could hardly believe how terrible Mildred looked. She was exhausted and had deep shadows underneath her eyes.

Isaac tried to hide his hand from Ellen, but she noticed how pus and blood were oozing from the dirty bandage he had wrapped around the wound. One could see in his contorted face that he was in severe pain, but since he still wouldn’t tolerate her presence in his smithy, Ellen couldn’t help with the work and could only watch how he was suffering.

Ellen took care of her sister and tried to help her regain her strength, and indeed Mildred seemed happy she was there and soon was looking a little better.

But Isaac’s condition was getting visibly worse.

Late in the afternoon two days after Ellen’s arrival, Peter dashed excitedly into the house. “Ellenweore, come quickly, Isaac has fainted!”

Mildred’s eyes opened wide with fear.

Ellen put down the dough she was kneading at the moment, saying, “Don’t worry, I’ll attend to him!” and rushed into the workshop behind Peter.

Isaac lay on the floor, doubled up in pain. His forehead was burning.

“We’ve got to take him to the house!” she said.

Peter was big and strong, so the two of them could carry Isaac. Mildred had a bed set up in the kitchen so she could be with Ellen and her children and put Isaac in the bedroom.

Carefully Ellen removed the bandage from Isaac’s hand.

“For God’s sake!” she gasped when she caught sight of the wound.

The palm of his hand was covered with pus and putrid black skin, and the skin around the wound was swollen and a deep red. The gangrene already extended up his arm. Peter turned away in horror. He was shocked. “How could he have continued working with that?” he mumbled.

“Isaac is stubborn,” Ellen grumbled. “But he is also pretty damn tough,” she added in a somewhat friendlier tone. We’ve got to find a barber-surgeon somewhere.” She wrapped the dirty linen around Isaac’s hand again when flies started coming to settle down on the wound.

“Get out!” she shouted, shooing away the persistent insects that were attracted by the stench of the rotting flesh.

“I’ll find one!” Peter assured her, and rushed away.

Ellen was wondering what else to do when Isaac suddenly regained consciousness. He sat up quickly and looked around in astonishment, but then he hesitated. Perhaps he was dizzy. “Why am I in the bedroom?” he exclaimed gruffly and looked suspiciously at his sister-in-law.

“You must rest; you have a fever,” she said, trying to console him, without saying a word about his hand. Naturally, he would say he could continue working and the fever had nothing to do with his injury.

“Rest?” Isaac spat the word out angrily. “I have a lot to do, an important job that has to be finished in two days. I can’t just lie around here.” He tried to stand up, but he was unable to. “Won’t you help me?” he snarled at Ellen.

“If you think you can work, then you certainly are able to stand up on your own.” Ellen turned and walked out.

Isaac struggled to get up, but he was too weak. Finally he gave up and fell asleep, exhausted.

It took half a day before Peter returned with a barber-surgeon. He was an older man, somewhat chubby and bald, but his eyes were gentle and friendly. He examined Isaac’s hand closely, shook his head, and wheezed.

Ellen accompanied him out of the room.

Not until they were outside again in front of the smithy did he begin to speak. “The woman who is expecting the child…is she his wife?” He had seen Mildred briefly but not spoken with her.

Ellen nodded apprehensively.

“It looks bad for her, do you know that?”

Ellen nodded again.

“He probably knows that, too, and that’s the reason he doesn’t want anyone to see his wound. I imagine he is ashamed. Stubborn men like him can easily lose an arm or a leg.”

Ellen took a deep breath. “Can you do anything for him?”

“The hand is gangrenous, and it’s spreading fast. It doesn’t look good. He should have looked after his hand. I’ll tell you what you can do, but I can’t give you much hope. If we can’t stop the gangrene from spreading, we’ll have to cut off perhaps half of the lower arm or even as far as the elbow. I can’t say exactly yet.”

Ellen gasped. That would mean the end of Isaac’s smithy! How could he continue to work, even if he survived the operation?

The barber-surgeon gave her a few herbs and told her how to make a compress with them. He promised to look in on Isaac the next day and bring his tools along. “If it’s necessary, I’ll remove his hand or else he’ll die! It would be best if you could prepare him and his wife for that.”

“But how can I…what can I say?”

The barber-surgeon shrugged. “That’s not easy to do, I know.”

When he had left, Ellen was overcome with despair, and tears were running down her face. Even if Isaac had so often made her angry, he didn’t deserve anything like this. Mildred was expecting their third child, and how would he be able to feed a family? Despondently, Ellen walked back to the house. The children would certainly be hungry, and Mildred had to be continually reminded to eat. Ellen rolled up her sleeves and decided that first she would take care of everyone’s immediate needs. Then she entered, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“What’s the matter with Isaac?” Mildred asked. She had understood more of the problem than Ellen had wished.