May Day eve
Jared reached into the blazing forge with his tongs. In a practised whirl he extracted the long billet of iron and placed it on the anvil. He hammered at it with strong, decisive pounding, sending outwards a flying spray of sparks, listening for when his hits returned the hard ring of cooling metal.
His father had taught him everything he knew. The family forge had prospered in the village, producing everything from door latches to ploughshares, and took in work from miles around. He had lost him to an ague some two years previously but a partner, Osbert, had been found, a steady older man now outside shaping a clay mould.
‘Give us a good wind, younker!’ Jared told the young apprentice at the bellows and plunged his work back into the heart of the fire. He watched the incandescence pulsate to white heat and drew out his iron again. It was hard but rewarding work, bringing a creation of value for man out of the implacable inertness of rock-torn iron, and he revelled in the sheer physicality of forcing his will upon it.
The ghost of what would be lay within the glowing mass and he directed his blows to bring the crude billet ever closer to its outline. Already he’d drawn out the workpiece to length and now was concentrating on producing a sweet curve and at the same time a descending edge. This was going to be a scythe with the blade a full five feet long. He worked steadily, broadening and deepening the blade along the long chine, leaving the mounting tang until later.
‘You’ll never be done by the morrow, young cub!’ Osbert chided him, bringing in his mould to set.
‘I will, old man,’ Jared retorted with the confidence of twenty years. Tomorrow was a feast day, May Day!
Jared fell to it, hammering with redoubled speed and the unmistakeable shape of the scythe blade began emerging. Two more heatings and he had a wicked pointed end drawn out and the run of the blade sighted and trued.
A deft working with mandrel and punch and the mounting point for the sinuous long wooden handle was ready.
‘I’ll give you a hand,’ Osbert offered.
The piece was formed but now it had to be worked to a hardness along its edge, and that could only be done by peening, cold beating the metal with smaller hammers in a painstaking progression down the blade. They set to together, one manipulating the work on the anvil while the other kept up a rapid tattoo with the hammer.
At last it was done. A workmanlike tool whose hard edge only needed occasional touching with a whetstone to see many years of yeoman duty on grain or grass.
‘Fetch us a muzzler, young ’un.’
While the apprentice scurried off for a jug of ale Jared wiped his forehead and sat on the floor against the anvil.
Osbert joined him. ‘You’ll be going a-maying, then.’
‘I might.’
‘Maypole ready?’
‘Aye, it’s up. Me and Nolly did it.’
There was a small pause, then Osbert said, ‘She’s May Queen, I hear.’
‘Who’s that?’ Jared said casually, fiddling with his belt.
‘You don’t fool me, lad – young Aldith Beavis, I mean.’
Jared said nothing, staring obstinately ahead.
‘Look, none o’ my business, but I seen how she looks at you with them deer’s eyes as you passes.’
‘So?’
‘And I seen your sheep’s eyes looking back. Now she’s of an age, like to be married even before harvest’s in.’
‘Leave it alone, Osbert,’ Jared flared. ‘I happen to know old Beavis went to talk with Master Frauncey and stayed a-while, must have had a good hearing. And can you blame him – a blacksmith agin a bailiff’s clerk?’ he added bitterly.
‘Ha! You don’t know Beavis as well as I do. He’s ruled by Hetty, his wife – won’t refuse her anything. Now, here’s my advice, take it or leave it. You get out there, open your heart to the damsel, let her know how the wind blows. She takes a fancy, goes back to her mother and they has women’s talk as will soon have Beavis ploughing a different furrow. See?’
‘I’m to thank you for your help with the scythe, Osbert,’ Jared said stiffly.
The ale arrived and they drank thirstily.
‘Just you remember what I said. Tomorrow you has your chance – and none other after it,’ Osbert said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.