Naturally, all three of these things had appeal for young men.
The Jarsays were predominantly men and boys from the Southern farmlands. The city was full of Jarsayans after harvest, and there were more than ever this year – some with tales of brutal attacks by Royal troops. The sign of the Jarsayans was a farmer’s smock.
The outer wards of the city had received an influx of Northern refugees in the late spring. Most of them were going back to their homes now, but the remnant were angry and dispossessed and very prickly.
The guilds had responded by holding an increased number of drills for all the trained bands within the city. The armourers prided themselves on being one of the best military guilds, and they drilled so often that Edmund was tired and hungry all the time. But he had become aware that the guild masters were using the trained bands to overawe the factions.
‘We’re armourers,’ he said firmly. ‘We’re above faction concerns.’
‘That’s crap,’ said Duke. ‘The Galles is foreign, and they’re out to get the Queen. Calling her a whore. Saying she’s barren. They say she’s-’
Master Pye appeared at the door, and Duke flushed.
Master Pye looked at them grimly, but he didn’t say a word.
‘I don’t believe any of those things!’ Duke said.
Master Pye nodded and beckoned to Edmund.
Edmund felt like his feet were made of lead. But he followed Master Pye across the yard to the master’s office, a room as full of vellum and parchment as the royal secretary’s office at the palace.
He felt like the best defence might be a good offence, so as soon as the master was seated, he bowed and said, ‘Master Pye, I am sorry. The body found this morning disturbed everyone.’
Pye nodded. ‘I’m glad you accept responsibility, young Edmund. What your men say reflects on you. What my men say reflects on me.’ For a moment, his mild eyes, framed by his enormous Etruscan spectacles, magnified and enhanced, met the journeyman’s, and Edmund felt a jolt of pure fear. He had only seen the master really angry once. ‘I spend too much time at the palace. I need you, Edmund. How is the project?’
Edmund shook his head. ‘There’s no end to it, Master. But I’m making three barrels with one-inch bores. I think – think – they’ll answer some of the specifications on Mr Smyth’s contract. And the strange bell with the holes for bolts.’
Master Pye steepled his hands. ‘Good. Get it done. You know something about both casting and making punches.’
Edmund bowed. ‘Yes, Master.’
‘I will need you to take charge of a number of projects here, Edmund. These iron barrels have done a good job of training you to run a project – you are well inside your budget and your work nears completion. I will need you to direct ever more of the work here, which is why I need you to be better at controlling the apprentices.’ The master raised his hand. ‘I understand that these are difficult times and, make no mistake, I understand that you used to be one of them and therefore lack that quality of awe that might give you an air of command. In the old days I’d send you to another shop.’ Master Pye shook his head. ‘I hate to say this, but I think I have more orders than I can possibly fill without engaging another dozen apprentices and two more journeymen – yet I lack the time to train and oversee them in a way which would make them good masters in their turn.’ He looked up. ‘Do you understand what I am saying?’ he asked.
Edmund coughed. ‘No. Yes. I’ll do what I can.’
‘The most important commission in the shop is the King’s armour for the tournament. Yet I have done almost no work on it since we completed the hardening process, because I am cutting the dies by hand.’ He looked at Edmund. ‘And I need hundreds of coin blanks cast and cut.’
‘I can do that,’ Edmund nodded.
‘No, boy, I don’t need you to do it. I need you to develop a process to allow apprentices to do it, so I can cut dies and you can embellish the King’s armour.’ Master Pye’s eye met his again.
‘Tom could run it,’ Edmund said. ‘He’s very good.’
Pye took a deep breath. ‘Really?’ he said. ‘Young Tom is a street boy. You know that, eh?’
Guilds took on a proportion of foundlings, but they seldom amounted to anything because, even inside a guild, success required both nepotism and ready silver.
Edmund knew that. Tom tried not to be resentful of it, but sometimes his superior skills so obviously overshadowed Edmund’s that he was acerbic about it.
Edmund leaned forward. ‘He’d be loyal – for ever – if we give him this opportunity.’
Pye rubbed his unshaven cheeks. ‘Good call. I knew my confidence in you was not misplaced. I’ve been too long out of the shop. Send for him this instant.’
By the time an enthusiastic young woman could have murmured an ave maria, young Tom was standing with his cap in his hand in the master’s office.
‘Edmund says you are ready to be a journeyman,’ said the master.
Tom moved the cap round and round in his hands, as if his fingers were looking for flaws in the frayed edges. ‘Oh!’ he said, and looked at Edmund. Then he slumped. ‘Can’t pay the fees,’ he said.
Master Pye nodded. ‘Don’t slouch, Tom. I’ll pay your fees on two conditions.’
Tom sprang to attention. ‘Anything!’ he blurted.
‘Always wait to hear what the contract holds before you sign, young man. First – will you work for Edmund?’ The master leaned forward.
‘Yes!’ said Tom.
‘Second; you’ll have full wages as a journeyman, but I’ll have you bound to me for two years. No leaving me for other shops or other cities.’
Tom laughed. ‘Master, you can bind me for the rest of my life.’
Pye shook his head. ‘Never say it, boy. Very well – go make yourself an iron ring and meet me at the guild hall. Have a cup of wine to celebrate,’ he said, ‘for by God, it’ll be the last afternoon you spend out of the shop for many a day.’
Master Pye went out into the courtyard, and Edmund stayed to help Tom make himself a blued steel ring. While the older boy was trying to get a bezel to form and cursing over it, he said, ‘Thanks. I owe you.’
Edmund said, ‘He’s going to expand the shop. We’re going to make coins.’
Tom whistled. ‘That’ll put the cat among the pigeons.’
Edmund was polishing the ring as if he were a new apprentice but, by tradition, when a boy got raised his friends pitched in. ‘Why?’
Tom shrugged. ‘Them Galles want to kill our coinage. If’n we’re minting new they’ll come after us too.’
Edmund nodded slowly. ‘Best take some precautions.’
Tom smiled. ‘After I make journeyman. Thanks again. I never thought it would happen.’
West of Lonika in Thrake – The Emperor and Duke Andronicus
They dismounted in the courtyard of a small castle. The place was no bigger than a manor house, with two stone towers and a timber-built Great Hall that filled the space between. The castle had an outer palisade wall and stood atop a high ridge. From the tallest tower, the sentry could see the snow-covered tip of Mons Draconis, sixty leagues to the west amidst the Green Hills.
Sixty stradiotes of the Duke’s personal household accompanied the Emperor, and they received him with an elaborate ceremony that failed to conceal his status as a prisoner in a miserable border castle, so far from his home that rescue was impossible.
His dignity remained unmarred. He accepted the plaudits of his enemies, and their bows, and he went to the room assigned him with good grace. The guard on his door begged his blessing.
That night, he tied his sheets together and went out through the window, but a light snow was falling and horsemen took him at first light.
One of the Easterners took his steel axe, and used the handle to break both of the Emperor’s legs. Then they carried him back across the frozen swamp to the castle, returned him to his room, and the guards all asked his blessing.
Southford under Albinkirk – Ser John Crayford