The Copper Sign by Katia Fox, Lee Chadeayne

with cooking pots, soup bowls, and earthenware. Glenna’s greatest pride in her new home, however, were two magnificent armchairs with high backs and carved armrests such as were otherwise seen only in the homes of lords and ladies. There were two small bedrooms under the roof that could be reached by way of a steep wooden stairway. The smith and his wife slept in one of them, and the other was for the helpers.
    Donovan was absorbed in overseeing the building of the workshop. With two large forges—each at least twice as big as the ones he had had in England—three anvils, and two massive stone troughs for the quenching of long blades, the new workshop was large enough for the master, two or three journeymen, and three or four helpers. The Lord of Tancarville had insisted that Donovan’s workshop be roomy enough to accommodate additional men to learn the trade. Even though Donovan found it hard to imagine how he could train smiths who were only moderately gifted, he had to resign himself to it and soon selected two young men.
    Arnaud, the elder of the two, had worked for three years in the village with a blacksmith and had at least some basic knowledge that Donovan could build on. Arnaud would have to completely relearn some things but seemed at least to understand what a privilege it was to be allowed to work for Donovan. He obviously did everything he could to curry favor with the master. Donovan had not even asked him to take the test of sorting the bloom iron pieces, however, and that displeased Ellen very much. Arnaud was a decent fellow with hazel-colored eyes and arched eyebrows. He was quite aware of the impression he made on the fair sex and loved to talk about it, something Ellen didn’t appreciate too much.
    Vincent was a bit younger than Arnaud and was meant to be trained as a blacksmith’s helper in order to relieve Art of some of his work. He was as strong as an ox and had deep-set eyes and a nose that was much too wide. He was full of admiration for Arnaud and followed him around like a little puppy with an almost childlike devotion.
    Arnaud despised him but graciously allowed him to worship him nonetheless.
    Ellen didn’t trust Arnaud and avoided contact with him outside the forge. In any case, the presence of the two helpers had the advantage that now Donovan could give additional time to Ellen.
    The more she learned about the smith and his work, the more she appreciated the master. She had long ago forgiven the gruff way he had treated her at first and was greatly impressed with what he could do with iron. Whereas most blacksmiths pounded it with long and heavy blows into the desired shape, Donovan seemed to be giving it light, almost tender love pats like the ones mothers sometimes give their children to make them laugh. Ellen was intrigued by the way he worked and was convinced that iron could be perfectly wrought only in this very special way and with a deep understanding of the material.
    Although Ellen loved every moment in the forge, she especially enjoyed Sundays when they all went to church. After the mass they stood around conversing with the other Anglo-Saxon tradesmen. When the weather was good, they often sat down in the grass and ate together. Ellen would then be seated with Rose, and the two chatted and laughed, but Ellen always needed to be on guard not to be exposed as a girl.
    Since they had left Orford, the two sensitive little buds on her chest had turned into chubby protuberances. She leaned forward with her shoulders to hide it but often had the feeling that everyone was looking at her. One Sunday when she was alone in her room, she pulled her shirt down tightly and could see how her breasts bulged out. “Somehow I have to do something about it,” she mumbled to herself, frowning.
    Suddenly she heard a commotion out in the stairwell, and Art came rushing into the room. Ellen turned around quickly and pretended to be making her bed. She breathed a big sigh of relief when Art