oversized forge required constant attention to spread the heat around the blade: cooler for the tip, hotter near the guard, and the tang out of the coals. His father had an expert eye to know when the blade’s color meant it was ready for the hammer. And as this was best judged in the dark, his father preferred swordsmithing after sundown. Too hot and the metal would spark and ruin its strength. Too cold and his father would tire from excess hammering.
Merlin found peace in the rhythm of heating and hammering, heating and hammering. Some of his happiest times were working with his tas after dinner. No farmers impatient for a tool to be fixed. No horses to shoe. Just him, his father, and a blade.
Once the color was true, his father would clamp onto the handle a special pair of tongs he’d made that would allow Merlin to hold the sword without getting burned, as well as maneuver it without losing his grip. Timing was critical, and his father’s forearm burns testified he didn’t want the blade slipping in the tongs.
During each hammering on the anvil, Merlin held these tongs with both hands. Despite his blindness, he had learned from his father over the past five years to lift the sword slightly off the anvil between hammer blows. This was important to keep the heat from escaping into the anvil. By doing this the visits to the forge were reduced and each blow strengthened.
Now and then during the hammering, his father would call “Trelya,” which meant that Merlin should flip the sword. This was tricky because Merlin had to lift the sword, flip it, and set it on the anvil at the correct angle in time for the next hammer blow.
In this way father and son worked together as one man: lifting, dropping, hammering, lifting, turning, dropping, and hammering. But the part Merlin liked best — when his father wasn’t sullen or angry — was heating the blade, because there was time to talk while Merlin worked the bellows. Maybe tonight he could get more answers from his father than he had been privy to these many long years.
“Tas, how’d you decide to become a blacksmith?” Merlin asked.
“It’s a long story.”
“I’d like to hear it. We have time.”
His father paused, and when he spoke again, it was so quiet Merlin barely caught his words. “The truth is that I stumbled into the craft. When your mother and I traveled to Kernow, I needed work, and a monk at Isca Difnonia told us this village’s blacksmith needed a helper. So we came to Bosventor.”
“Was that Elowek, who owned the smithy before us? I hardly remember him.”
“That was he. I learned the trade without planning on it, swordsmithing and all. When he died I bought the shop and house from his widow, and we’ve been here ever since.”
Merlin’s father used a poker to shift the coals around the blade. “A little more air … That’s it. Funny how life changes you. Now I’m the one known as An Gof, ‘the Smith.’ I can still hear the old man whistling.”
“Hadn’t you ever thought about being a smith?”
“Oh, like most boys, I was fascinated by the heat, sparks, and ringing of the anvil. But no, I hadn’t thought about it. You see I … You don’t know this, but I was the youngest son of a chieftain.”
“Really? My grandfather was a chieftain? Where?”
“Rheged, north of Kembry. The fortress of Dinas Crag. I hear my oldest brother, Ector, rules there now. My father wanted me, as the youngest, to be a leader in the church and had me trained for it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” All the years his father was unwilling to visit the chapel surfaced in a fresh light. Fear sank like a rock into Merlin’s stomach as he waited for the typical lash from his father. But this time it was different.
Owain stepped away from the forge and walked over to Merlin, who kept working the bellows, but slower now.
“Part of my life has been locked up, for I don’t know how long.” He placed a hand on Merlin’s shoulder.
Merlin’s fear ebbed away.
“But now I’m free, and my soul can move. For the first time my father’s faith, and my son’s faith, is now mine.”
“When did Grandfather leave the old ways?”
“I don’t know, but he was the first in our family. I prepared for the church because it was expected. Ah, but I failed him in that! I wanted to be