Hroudland walked slowly along the array of weaponry. Quickly he found me a lance and a couple of javelins. He rejected an axe as unnecessary and picked out a plain shield with an iron boss which he said needed a new leather strap. The clerk made a note on his tablet and said it would be provided. Finding the right armoured jacket took longer. The metal plates sewn to the fabric made the garment very stiff and restricted the wearer’s movement unless the fit was correct. The choice of helmets was very limited – the clerk made cautionary noises about how expensive they were – and Hroudland reluctantly agreed to take one under which I had to wear thick wool and leather skull cap. A pair of heavy gauntlets completed the outfit. By then the two attendants had their arms full of my war gear.
‘Now for the most important item – his sword,’ announced Hroudland.
We were escorted to the farthest corner of the armoury where a dozen swords were racked. Hroudland scanned the selection with a critical eye.
‘Is that all you’ve got?’ he demanded.
‘Fine craftsmanship, every single one of them,’ said the clerk primly.
Hroudland reached out and removed a sword from the rack.
‘Antique!’ he announced, hefting it in his hand.
He held it out to me.
‘Look, Patch, the edges of the blade run parallel almost to the tip. That makes a sword heavy and awkward to use.’
The clerk bridled.
‘A fine weapon nevertheless.’
‘But no use to my friend here,’ retorted the count, replacing the weapon. ‘I’ve heard that you’ve got one of those new Ingelrii swords here.’
There was a distinct intake of breath by the store keeper.
‘Not a genuine Ingelrii,’ he said.
‘Let me be the judge of that,’ said the count.
Reluctantly, the clerk went to a large wooden chest, unlocked it, and lifted out a long item wrapped in cloth. I could smell oil.
‘This is it,’ he said, handing the object to Hroudland.
The count unwrapped the oiled cloth and revealed a sword, its blade the length of my arm. I was disappointed. From the clerk’s behaviour I had expected something much more spectacular, perhaps a glittering blade and a handle encrusted with jewels. Instead I saw a workaday weapon with a plain iron handle. The only decoration was a small, insignificant crystal set into the triangular pommel.
Hrouldland swung the sword through the air, testing its balance. Then he examined the blade closely.
‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘This is not an Ingelrii blade. He would have signed it.’
The clerk gave a self-satisfied smile.
‘As I told you. We received the sword as a tithe payment from one of the Burgundian monasteries. We have no idea who was the swordsmith.’
The count whipped the sword through the air, and then said, ‘It’s not an Ingelrii. But it’s as good. We’ll take it.’
‘I do not have the authority to let it out of the armoury,’ snapped the storekeeper.
Hroudland fixed him with a glare.
‘Would you like me to raise the subject with my uncle?’
‘No, no. That won’t be necessary.’ The man was clearly unhappy with the arrangement.
Hroudland put the sword hilt in my hand.
‘Now, Patch, how does that feel?’
I swung the sword tentatively in a small arc. It was remarkably light and well balanced.
‘Note the difference in the blade, Patch,’ Hroudland said. ‘It tapers all the way to the point. That makes the weapon an extension to your arm. Also the quality of the steel is exceptional.’ He peered inside the sword chest. ‘I see there is a scabbard and baldrick to go with it,’ he said.
Knowing he was beaten, the clerk nodded to one of the attendants and the sword’s fittings were added to our collection.
Hroudland was looking pleased with himself as we walked back down the length of the armoury.
‘I should have driven a harder bargain with you, Patch. That sword is unique. You’ll have to find a name for it.’
‘A name?’
He laughed.
‘Every really good sword has its own name. Mine is Durendal, “the enduring one”. The king presented it to me personally, a great honour. He has its twin, Joyeuse.’
I rather doubted that I would ever be enough of a warrior to wield a famous sword, and was about to say that ‘Joyful’ was a strange name for a deadly weapon, when I was distracted by Osric calling out, ‘Master, this would be useful.’
My slave had veered off towards a rack of bows and was tugging something out from behind the display. It was another bow but not like all the others. Their staves were as tall as a man and either straight or slightly curved. He had spotted a bow at least a third shorter in length and its stave had a peculiar double curve. He held it up to show me.