‘Is there a problem?’ I asked him as I sheathed my new sword and walked towards Marcus. ‘You two!’ came the shout across the yard and the two of us looked towards my other cousin, and Richards brother, Marcus, older than me by two years. ‘I’m torn between Edwin and Alaric,’ I answered. Still,’ he said swung his mace into the head of a dummy, knocking the whole thing over, ‘I love this. ‘I do, but it’s always good to have a good sword, just in case.’ I swung, hacked and stabbed, cutting into the dummy with a broad grin on my face. A few of our men at arms were training with sword and axe but I approached a straw dummy and drew my new sword, ready to see how it felt in hand. Richard and I walked out of the smithy and towards the training yard, fortunately only a short distance away. ‘I’ll make sure my uncle gives you the money.’ ‘Sir John, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t start swinging the sword in here,’ Wat suggested. ‘It’s perfect,’ I said and nodded, drawing the shining blade from its sheath. Each arm of the cross guard had a garnet stone at its end and the pommel was ivory and carved into the shape of a unicorns head with garnet eyes. The decoration of the leather was intricate, a pattern displaying a hunting scene with a group of riders pursuing a stag through a forest, but my focus was on the sword itself. The blade was within a wooden sheath wrapped in leather. ‘One of my best,’ Wat answered as young Philip pulled the cloth away.īeneath the cloth was a perfectly made bastard sword, Philip picked it up and handed it to me. Wat’s apprentice, Philip, was next to it as well, smiling, clearly impressed at his and his masters work. The place was neatly organised, his forge at one end still glowing, shelves everywhere were covered by all manner of weapons and tools, axes, arrow heads and daggers, while on a table at the far end of the room was what I came for, covered by a cloth. ‘It’s ready Sir John,’ he said and nodded, leading us into his place of work. The door to the smithy opened and Wat, the smith, emerged. ‘What can I say? I’m a man of excellent taste.’ ‘Why do I even ask? It’s always the redhead.’ ‘The blonde one or the red head?’ I laughed as his face turned red from embarrassment. ‘Are we going to be waiting here all day?’ Richard asked while he casually swung his mace around, trying to hit a particularly stubborn fly. We both had the typical Harris features, dark brown hair, a stocky build and long nose, though he had his father’s grey eyes but mine were the brown of my mothers. One morning, I cannot recall the exact date though it was shortly before we left home, I was standing outside the forge in my uncles castle with Richard, my cousin a year younger than me. The terrible wars, which had seen many brave men and innocent women and children die, among them my own father who fell in battle at a place called Tewksbury, had been believed to be over and England would be united at last under the reign of his majesty Richard the Third.
#Hunt for helm of raedwald series
By the calendar of my old world it had been one thousand four hundred and eighty five years since the time of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the great series of wars which had divided England for years, the conflict between the Houses of York and Lancaster, had flared up once again. My name is John Harris, and when this tale begins, I was only a young knight in the service of my uncle James, Baron of Widford. The best place to begin my tale would of course be the beginning. Naturally, this is done not just for the sake of posterity, but also in the hope that by remembering our sacrifices, future generations will not have to face the same darkness which we fought against, and instead live forever in glorious summer. His Majesty has asked that I, and many of the other heroes of the war, write our own accounts of the conflict which ended the Third Age. It has been many years since I blindly galloped through the veil of reality from one world to another. The First Part of the story of the Erucaunion Bloodline The History of the War of the Ring as seen by the Honourable Men of the English CompanyĪ Part of the Englishmen’s War of the Ring Collection, Saint Estë’s Library, Osgiliath.
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