The Secret of the Swords (3 page)

CHAPTER 3

T
HE
K
EEPER
of the Blades … Tommy was swelling with pride as she walked across the courtyard to the armoury the next morning, ready to start her new job.

Even Mrs Moon had been impressed that Sir Benedict himself had come to the kitchen. After the knight had left, she filled a bowl with hearty bean soup for Tommy. And even better, she gave Tommy a tunic and a pair of leggings that her son had outgrown. ‘Much more suitable for a Keeper of the Blades than a torn dress,' the cook had remarked.

When she entered the armoury, the first thing Tommy noticed was the noise. The blacksmith was bent over a sturdy wooden bench, hammering a large sheet of metal. The sound echoed off the stone walls, which glowed with the light from the fireplace set against the back wall.

As her eyes had adjusted to the dim light, Tommy looked around. She saw an assortment of shields and breastplates, helmets and swords, all waiting for repair.

When the blacksmith paused in his hammering, Tommy stepped forward.

‘Good morning, sir,' she said. ‘I'm Tommy, the new Keeper of the Blades.'

The blacksmith straightened up and squinted at her from under a pair of big bushy eyebrows. ‘So you're the new sword girl, eh? Well you can drop the “sir” and just call me Smith. Everyone does. Right then, I'll show you what's what.' Smith beckoned for Tommy to follow him.

‘That's the forge,' he said, pointing to the fireplace. ‘If we need to reshape a piece of armour we put it in the fire there. The heat softens it so we can bend it easily. We only do repairs here, though. The weapons and armour are made by the smiths in town.'

Tommy felt a prickle of excitement. She knew that many of the castle's needs were supplied by the merchants and tradesmen in the town just outside the castle's walls. Most days, the drawbridge across the moat was busy with carts and horses going back and forth between the castle and the town. As a kitchen girl, Tommy had hardly ever visited the town. But maybe as the Keeper of the Blades she would!

There were doors on either side of the forge. Smith led Tommy to the door on the left. ‘This is the sword chamber,' he said. ‘First time we've had a girl in the job that I can remember. But I suppose Sir Benedict knows what he's about.'

Tommy stood in the doorway of the low-ceilinged room. There were no windows, but the light from a candle on the wall to the right of the door was reflected in the gleaming blades lining three walls of the long, narrow chamber. Tommy thought she had never seen a more beautiful sight

The long wall facing her was lined with swords standing in wooden racks, and in the shadows to her left she could just make out a smaller rack of swords. To her right, daggers hung by their hilts from iron pegs which had been hammered into the stone wall.

‘You're to keep the blades polished and sharp, ready for the knights. You've got plenty of cloths here and a pot of oil for polishing, and there's your file and whetstone for sharpening. If any repairs are needed, you bring 'em to me. Simple enough, eh, Sword Girl?'

‘Yes, Smith,' Tommy breathed, without taking her eyes from the dazzling array of swords.

As soon as the blacksmith left the room and she could hear the muffled clang of his hammer, Tommy pulled a sword from the long rack. It was so much heavier than a broom, but she liked the weight of it. She liked the way the steel blade sliced the air, liked the smooth feel of the wooden grip.

She had just replaced the sword in its rack when the hammering in the armoury stopped. ‘You're late,' Smith said gruffly.

‘Never mind that,' said a familiar voice. ‘Has Sir Benedict been in? Did he say anything about making me Keeper of the Blades?'

It was Reynard, Tommy realised. But what did he mean about Sir Benedict making
him
Keeper of the Blades? She stepped closer to the door to listen.

‘Sir Benedict didn't say nothin' about you bein' Keeper of the Blades, lad,' the blacksmith replied. ‘The new sword girl is already here.'

‘Sword girl? What are you talking about, Smith?'

‘See for yourself,' said Smith.

And before Tommy could move away from the doorway Reynard was there, his red hair coppery in the candlelight.

‘You!' he cried. He turned to call over his shoulder, ‘She isn't a Keeper of the Blades, Smith. She's just a kitchen girl.'

‘Not according to Sir Benedict,' said the blacksmith calmly. ‘He reckons she's the sword girl, and if Sir Benedict reckons it, then it must be so.'

Reynard turned to glare at Tommy. He seemed to be vibrating with anger as he said in a menacing whisper, ‘We'll see about that.'

CHAPTER 4

T
HE
K
EEPER
of the Bows stormed off. Tommy guessed the bow chamber must be through the door to the right of the forge.

She was feeling a bit upset by Reynard's final words. Was he really threatening her? Well, Tommy thought, she would just have to look after the swords and daggers so well that there would be no question of giving her job to someone else.

She would begin by getting to know the swords, starting with the long rack, she decided. She knew from watching the knights that there were different kinds of swords. There were short, sharp-pointed thrusting swords. There were two-handed swords with long hilts, so heavy she could hardly lift them. There were double-edged swords with broad blades. She wiped each one with a soft cloth and clove-scented oil.

Halfway along the wall, she pulled a sword from the rack that made her draw in her breath in awe. Studded with rubies at the hilt, its blade was decorated with exquisite engravings of flamingos, matching the birds on the flags that fluttered from the towers of Flamant Castle. It was so precious she didn't dare wave it about like she had with some of the other swords. After admiring it for a few minutes, she polished it with special care, then put it back in the rack and continued her inspection.

When she had finished with the main rack, she turned to the small collection of swords along the short wall. She was puzzled to find that the swords here were nowhere near as well cared for as the others. The blades were dull and tarnished, and the wooden grips were as worn as the handle on the kitchen broom.

The thought of the old broom reminded her of Reynard's words from the day before. ‘Keeper of the Brooms,' he had called her. She smiled to think how her life had changed in only one day. From Keeper of the Brooms to Keeper of the Blades! ‘But how did Sir Benedict know that I could handle swords?' she wondered aloud. ‘How did he find out about me and the broom?'

‘That's easy,' said a voice behind her. ‘I told him.'

Tommy gasped and spun around. At first she didn't see anyone, but then a movement below made her drop her gaze. At her feet was the black and white cat.

‘You – you told him?' she repeated. Surely the cat hadn't spoken – but there was no one else in the room.

‘I did,' said the cat. ‘I told Sir Benedict how you fought off that oaf Reynard with only a broom. I also told him how much you love to watch the knights practising in the courtyard.'