Free A Fragile Peace by Paul Bannister Page A

with the famous sword Exalter.
    “I had to make the blade with two slightly curved cutting edges and a tapered point and I had to create a longer ricasso than usual. That’s the unsharpened part of the blade just below the guard. Arthur wanted it longer so he could use Exalter two-handed. The guard sits right above that ricasso on the shoulders of the blade. You set the guard snugly on the shoulders, slip the handle over the tang of the blade and the pommel locks everything together.
    “I also put in a small ring on the hilt to protect the finger you wrap over the guard as you pull back after thrusting. And, I made sure the pommel was good and heavy. It’s bronze, and you can use it as a club, but it’s really a counterweight for the length of the blade. The whole sword weighs about three pounds and about half of that is in the handle and pommel, which gives you a nicely balanced weapon.”
    Grabelius glanced at Milo and grinned. The youth was focused, engrossed in the details the smith was telling him. Gimflod caught the glance and looked down at the elf stone he held. “I’ll make a special bronze casting for the pommel, hollow it out so this can be fitted inside, with a small window so you can see it. This,” the smith casually picked up the nail Milo had reverently placed on the bench and Grabelius realized that Gimflod was pagan and the so-sacred relic that Candless publicly venerated was just another nail to the ironworker.
    “This,” said Gimflod, “I’ll incorporate as a small band in the ricasso. Tricky, but it’ll weld right in there.”
    “Arthur wants this sword quam primum ,” said Grabelius. “I’ll be as quick as can be,” said the smith, “but it will likely be two weeks.”
    “Good,” said Grabelius, “I can collect it on my way south, after Milo gets back to King Kinadius.” The legate was escorting Kinadius’ designated heir, Arthur’s son Milo, to the Pict overlord, and the pair were carrying tragic news.
    A scant month earlier, Milo and his young bride Sintea had left the kingdom north of Hadrian’s Wall to attend festivities at Arthur’s stronghold, but the girl had contracted plague and died. Grabelius suspected that the treaty which Kinadius and Arthur had sworn in blood might now be under threat. The Pict had agreed to peace when his daughter married Arthur’s son, and had further agreed that the young couple should rule Alba on his own death.
    Grabelius had experience of the broken promises of the Picts and was wary that Kinadius might choose to abandon the treaty now his daughter was no longer alive to benefit from it. He resolved to end his journey north at Dun Pelder, where Arthur’s longtime ally Bishop Candless was building a cathedral. He could find what the canny bishop knew and whether he could raise a fighting force should one be needed. Grabelius sighed. The ways of kings could be difficult, and deadly, so they must plan ahead where possible.
    He kept his fears to himself, and merely indicated to Milo that they should ready to leave in the morning. “I will go to Dun Pelder to see Candless, and not follow you to Kinadius’ stronghold,” he told the youth. “I’ll take just two troopers with me, the rest will escort you. It is important that you give the sad news to the king as quickly as possible. I shall not follow you, I must report to Arthur first.” Milo understood, and at first light the next day was booted and armed, horse saddled, all ready to leave.
    Despite the gloomy morning light, Grabelius noted that the boy’s eyes were reddened from crying and his sympathy went out to him. The young couple had been so tender together, and the plague had snatched away the bride in the full flower of her beauty. “There are a lot of tears in Britain today,” he murmured to himself. “The pestilence spares nobody.”
    Aloud, he said: ”May the gods speed us safely on our way, my prince. This is a sad time.” Milo stared at the cavalryman, blinked and