Rosamunde had promised to witness his success and she kept her word.
They rode slowly together out to the ravine and she waited patiently while he set up. He now had good pebbles and a rough baulk of wood to take the place of the rock-slabs in steadying the piece.
‘Stand away from the powpe,’ he ordered sternly.
She meekly obeyed.
The flame came down slowly as he called out, ‘Now!’
The brutal crack came as a shock, sending her to her knees but she rose slowly with a look of wonder and admiration at the far-off target, hit fair and squarely.
‘I-I did not think …’
‘Another one?’
‘No, no’, she answered faintly. ‘That was quite enough for me, thank you.’
The ride back was in silence and when they stabled the horses she pleaded a headache and retired.
At supper she was quiet and withdrawn, then said softly, ‘Jared, we must talk.’
The room was cleared.
‘Are you … do you know what it is that you’ve done?’
He chuckled. ‘Made an iron powpe?’
‘I beg you’ll be serious, Jared. And do swear to me that you will speak not a word of any of this to a soul.’
‘I promise,’ he replied, affected by her intensity, but couldn’t resist adding, ‘Do you not think I’ve found a use, then, for my devil’s dust?’
‘Yes, Jared, I do. Now, I said that if you made it happen I’d help you.’
‘Join me as a partner.’
‘Make common commercial cause with you.’
‘I’m not sure I completely understand you, Rosamunde.’
‘That is to say that the house of Barnwell is willing to invest a sum of money in your apparatus with a view to bringing it to market.’
‘Ah.’
‘On certain conditions.’
‘Oh?’
‘That the object of the investing is the producing of a machine or similar with a fixed purpose that may be constructed and sold for a profit. No wild schemes of turning castle walls to ruin or some such.’
He bristled but had to accept. If Mammon was the only path to the higher, then so be it.
‘Secondly, that you are the master who will create the machine while the House of Barnwell takes charge of the mercantile.’
‘Yes, I agree.’
‘Which is to mean that each will be guided by the other.’
‘Of course.’
‘And lastly – that we agree on a proper name for your device. If it’s to be offered up to princes and nobles I hardly think “powpe” will excite.’
‘Then … we call it a “fire-tube”, don’t you think?’
‘That is not what I had in mind.’
‘A “thunder-stick”, then?’
‘No.’
He frowned in exasperation. ‘Well, you tell me – what’s the most frightening thing you know?’
She thought for a moment. ‘It was something in my childhood, so dreadful I can still remember her.’
‘Her?’
‘I had a nurse from Norway. She took wicked joy in telling us of their awful history. Especially a war-maid married to Eric Bloodaxe, a sorcerer who bewitched men by loud shouts and became known as “mother of kings” after slaying Thorfinn Skull-Splitter. She must have been hideous to behold on the field of battle, I believe.’
‘Like our powpe will be to the foe. What was her name?’
‘Gunnhild Gormsdóttir.’
‘A bit long for most. We shorten it to … Gunn. Not a powpe, a Gunn.’
‘Hmm. I like that.’
‘How would we spell it?’
‘I would say, g-u-n-n-e. So then we can call your huo yao gunne-dust.’
‘Or gunne-powder, as saying this is not dust to be swept from the
house.’
‘Done!’
They laughed together then sobered in awe of the occasion.
‘I rather think we must now toast our future.’
She called for a page and when the wine arrived, deep, rich and red, they raised their goblets.
‘To Master Jared’s magnificent and terrible creation – his gunne!’
‘And to the two of us who are going to bring it into the world,’ he said.
She hesitated, her expression unreadable.
Then she impulsively leant across and kissed him lightly on the cheek. ‘I’ll right willingly drink to that,’ she said softly, her eyes fixed on him.
Unsure and confused, Jared took refuge in his wine.
The moment passed.
Rosamunde cleared her throat. ‘There are still matters to settle.’ She was the hard-eyed merchant investor again.
‘The market. Who will most desire our … gunnes? England is calm after the Scottish treaty, we are not at war with France.’
With none to buy the devices there would be no profit – no profit and the whole thing must fail.
‘Then …?’
‘I have my agent reporting to me shortly. He comes from a country that wars with itself without ceasing, one that glories in one town’s striving over another and who would greedily seize the chance to snatch unfair advantage over the other.’
‘Which can this be?’
‘Well, I rather fancy you will very shortly be on your way to Italy.’