Andrew Girle's Blog

Crime and Speculative Fiction Blooking

The Talking Sword – Sword of Justice, post 4

Posted by Andrew Girle on April 7, 2011

***as promised, a return (again) to your regular programming. I do recommend that you go back a few posts to re-acquaint yourself with what is going on!***

 

“Sword?” Dawn interrupted the tale, “You’ve got carvings under your crosspiece. I only just noticed them.”

“Really? You are telling me that an eight year old was more observant than you are? She noticed them the first time she picked the sword up.”

“Maybe. But maybe if I lived back then I would have noticed little things like that too.”

“Little things? My engraving, little things? Hah!” The sword sounded quite upset.

“So you are the sword in this story. I thought you would be.” Dawn smiled.

“Do you want to hear the rest of this story or not?” This time it was Grandfather who spoke, and Dawn just nodded in reply, and wriggled on the hard kitchen chair trying to find a more comfortable spot.

 

 

Francesca shrugged and stalked off, back through the house to the garden where she could be glimpsed giving more directions to the gardener.

“Father, you say that this is a gift from the Celt king?” Lucca kept turning the sword in her hands, watching as the light danced along the blade like ripples on water.

“That is right. It was made to symbolise friendship between warriors. It has a blade long like the Celts prefer, much longer than a Roman blade yet similar to look at. A Roman hand grip but decorated in Celtic style. Quite a fitting gift for a warrior to give, when you think about it. Mere gold would dishonour him. I accepted it in the spirit that it was given.” Mikel gently took the sword from Lucca’s hands and slid a soft cloth up the length, wiping away smudged finger marks.

“Now, run along and play. I have Auric attending soon to discuss taxation.”

Lucca made a face and scampered away. She did not like the merchant, Auric. He laughed a lot but rarely smiled, and that was usually when someone else had bad luck. Worse, her friends the guardsmen were scared of him, although they never told her why.

A little while later Lucca wandered into the courtyard. Like all Roman villas, the courtyard was the centre of the house and all the rooms faced onto it. Her mother and the gardener were nowhere to be seen. From her father’s reception room she could hear raised voices, and she snuck closer to listen.

 

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