But this was work for the warrant officers, petty officers and ship’s company. Kydd seized his opportunity. ‘Nicholas, should you step off with me, y’ could be of some service, m’ friend…’
Renzi raised one eyebrow. ‘Er, regarding Town Major Mulvany and his wife, do you not think it a trifle rash to venture abroad in Gibraltar? That you may meet them?’
Kydd’s infatuation with Emily Mulvany was nearly a year previously but Renzi’s gibe was enough to bring a flush. ‘I’ve heard there’s a new man in post now,’ he said defensively.
Bryant saw no reason to deny them both a few hours ashore, and within a short time they were speaking to the chief valuer for Moses Levy, the biggest jeweller in Gibraltar. ‘Your opinion on this, if y’ please,’ Kydd said, passing him his hoarded treasure.
The man took the object, scratched the surface with a hook-shaped pick and closely inspected the result. Then he took down a dusty vial with a glass dropper and deposited several drops of fluid on the tiny specks.
‘A remarkable piece,’ he said grudgingly, hefting the hunk of raw gold. ‘May I know where this was found?’ he said, as he set it on one pan of his scales.
‘No, sir, you may not.’ Kydd’s uncle would find his haven destroyed by prospectors if ever Kydd let it be known. It had been his uncle’s gift to probably the last family member he would see, and Kydd was going to see it well used.
The valuer carefully added weights to the other pan. Kydd glanced at Renzi, who seemed unaffected by the excitement. The man peered at the weights, then said, ‘This is what I can offer. Four hundred silver pesos on account now and an adjustment later after it has been assayed.’
‘That would seem equitable,’ Renzi said. Outside he added, ‘At six pesos to the guinea, an excellent trade – more than enough to… ?’
They knew where they had to go: a bare twenty minutes along the familiar bustle of Main Street was Town Range, the residential quarter for army officers, and in a side-street they found the garrison sword-cutler. Kydd turned to Renzi. ‘Now, Nicholas, understand that it’s a fightin’ sword I’m getting, none o’ your macaroni pig-stickers.’
‘As you’ve mentioned before, dear chap.’
The steel-glittered interior was hung with every conceivable hand weapon, ceremonial armour, regimental gorgets and armorial heraldry. Kydd wandered along the racks of edged weapons: this was no quartermaster’s armoury, with stout grey-steel blades and wooden hilts. Here was damascened elegance in blue, gold and ivory.
‘See this,’ Kydd said, selecting one. He flourished it – the military style seemed heavier, the slightly curved blade urging more of a slashing stroke than a direct thrust. It did, however, have a splendid appearance, the blade blued along its length with silver chasing down from the hilt, the half-basket guard ornate and fire-gilded.
‘A fighting sword?’ Renzi drawled.
‘Aye, well, a fine piece,’ Kydd said, replacing it as a man stepped out from the workshop at the rear.
‘Gentlemen, an honour.’ He spoke softly, but his eyes took measure of Kydd’s strong build and upright bearing. ‘Balthasar Owen. It’s not so often we are visited by the navy. Not a small sword is my guess,’ he added, with a smile, glancing at a discreet light-bladed hanger usually worn by gentlemen in the street.
‘A fightin’ sword for a naval gentleman, if y’ please,’ Kydd replied.
Owen hesitated.
‘The expense is not t’ be considered. Let th’ blade be the best y’ have.’
‘Should you have any fine Toledo steel blades, it would answer,’ Renzi added.
‘A Toledo blade! This will be difficult. Since the late war began you will understand…’
‘The best steel in the world, we agree,’ Renzi pressed. ‘And in the matter of your price…’
Owen closed the front door. ‘Toledo steel is the hardest there is because it is forged from an iron heart and the finest steel lapped and folded on itself more than three hundred times. This gives it flexibility but great hardness. It can take a razor’s edge that has been known to last centuries. You see, at the forge, the swordsmith works only by night. Such is their care that when the blade is plunged into the oil the heat’s colour is exactly known. The result, an impeccable temper.’
He paused, and looked keenly at the two. ‘There have been many attempts at fraud. Can you tell the singular damascening of a Toledo blade? No? Then the only one you may trust is myself – for if I sell you an inferior, then my standing as sword-cutler to the military will be exploded. Now, if I can find such a one, it would cost dear, perhaps more than three hundred silver pesos – in English money say fifty pounds.’