A Key From a Weaponsmith (Afternoon the 27th)- Xmas 1677

[Charles Whitehurst]

Ordinarily, one sought a key from a locksmith, but they key was a figurative one. Charles was in need of a good clue. He and Susan had discovered a dagger that promised to reveal a clue that might be the key to the identity of the Lion.

 

The young earl had asked around for the identity of the longest serving weaponsmith in London. He did not need the best smith, but the one with the best memory. So it was that the Life Guard officer strode into the shop that had been identified. One could find everything one needed within a few blocks of the Strand, or so it seemed.

 

The dagger was in his pocket, polished as best his manservant could manage. The detail in the blade and handle was more clear, providing a better chance that the smith would recognize the blade, the owner or its maker.

[Aria]

The shop was on a side street, a couple blocks away from the Strand. There was nothing remarkable about it. The building was old but in good shape, and the faded sign above the door showed an image of two crossed swords. It looked as if it wasn't a very popular place of business, but before Charles walked in, three well-dressed gentlemen strolled out, talking quietly among themselves.

 

The inside of the shop was as plain as the outside. The only furnishings were three large glass display cases placed around the room and a counter in the back. A variety of swords hung on the wall behind the counter. A bell above the door tinkled as Charles entered, and immediately an old man who looked about seventy years old emerged from a back room. He had once been tall and muscular, but now he was thin and hunched over. His hair was thick and white and his skin was mottled with age spots, but his brown eyes were clear and keen.

 

“Good day, my lord,” he said. His strong voice belied his frail appearance. “How may I be of service to you on this fine afternoon?”

[Charles Whitehurst]

"Good day sir," Charles greeted in return, removing his hat as he did so. Trace amounts of snow had ornamented his hat and plumage. No one would think anything of a King's soldier entering a weapons shop so there was no need to feel out of place. As he moved forward, he could not help but admire the weaponry on display. What military man would not want to take down each piece from the wall and give it a swing?

 

"I have been given a rare dagger," the young Major began, "and I am convinced that it belonged at one time to a famous Tudor lord. I am hoping that I could show it to you and you might be able to tell me something about it." Without awaiting a further invitation, Charles produced the dagger from his pocket. It was wrapped in a silk handkerchief. "Might you take a look?"

[Aria]

Soldiers did visit the shop quite often. The old man's family had once been the most popular blacksmiths in London … which was how they had come by the last name of Smith … but they had gladly relinquished that title in order to specialize in collecting historical weapons and forging replicas and custom blades. Percival's grandson did most of the work now in the smithy behind their house a few miles outside of the city, and his granddaughter-in-law was an expert at carving the wooden handles. His swords and daggers were not inexpensive, but the craftsmanship was superb.

 

He recognized Charles' uniform and knew that he was a member of the King's Life Guard and therefore a nobleman. By the way the younger soldier gazed at the swords on the wall, Percival surmised that he had heard of the shop from one of his other customers and would most likely order a custom weapon.

 

One bushy white eyebrow rose in curiosity when he said he had been given a rare dagger that he believed had once belonged to a famous Tudor lord. Many a man had made those claims, but very few had turned out to be true. When Charles pulled it from his pocket, Percival took it from him and lay it carefully on the counter before unwrapping it.

 

Excitement rushed through his old bones as soon as he beheld it. Can it be …? Picking it up carefully, he examined it closely, even going so far as to turn it upside down to look at the bottom of the rounded guards. Damn! It really is! Casually, he laid it back on the piece of silk and smiled at Charles.

 

“You're right that it belonged to a Tudor lord, but I don't know if he was famous or not. In fact, this looks like my great-grandfather's work. He was a renowned bladesmith in the time of Queen Elizabeth and these daggers were made to be presented to gentlemen who had distinguished themselves in the eyes of the Queen. One would think by the words engraved on the blade that they were passed out to her personal guard, but that was not the case.

 

“You can't see all the words on this one, but come, I'll show you.” He shuffled from behind the counter and over to one of the glass display cases. Upon a bed of black velvet lay a wide assortment of daggers and knives. They all looked very old and most of them were rusty and worn with use.

 

Percival pointed to one that looked exactly like the dagger lying on the counter, except that there were no Tudor roses engraved into the bollock guards. The dagger stood out from the others in the case because it looked brand new, showing absolutely no rust or decay whatsoever. Upon the blade was engraved the words 'In The Service Of The Queen.'

 

“I bought this one from a gentleman who said it had belonged to one of his ancestors. I was surprised that he wanted to part with it, but he probably had debts he needed to pay. These daggers are not exactly rare, but they're not common either.”

 

He raised his eyes from the case to his young customer. “Most of them I've seen were family heirlooms and were in better shape than the one you brought in. Do you mind telling me where you came by it?”

[Charles Whitehurst]

The blade could be dated to Elizabeth rather than James. Interesting. They were gifts from a grateful Qeen. The Lion was likely one of the Queen's advisors. That might narrow the list of potential candidates.

 

"You restored the dagger nicely," Charles observed aloud as he beheld the one in the case. "It seems to be missing the roses on the guards."

 

The question posed by the smith was not unexpected. As much as he might like to spin a good yarn, Charles believed that secrecy was best until the mystery was solved.

 

"I fear I am not at liberty to reveal much," Langdon began. "I am working on behalf of a lady that wishes to remain anonymous. It is important to her that she learn the identity of the lord that was given this dagger and I have pledged to assist her." He hoped that such a cryptic explanation would sound very noble. Perhaps the smith might think the Life Guard was there on behalf of the royal family.

 

"Would there not have been an initial of the owner engraved on the blade or hilt somewhere?" Charles asked hopefully. "Or, might this blade be distinct enough to allow you or someone at the palace to find a journal of recipients? I have reason to suspect that this blade was owned by a powerful lord at the time. I just need to find a way to identify him."

[Aria]

“Thank you, my lord.” Percival's thin lips turned up in a smile, which accentuated the wrinkles on his ancient face. The dagger had not actually been restored. It was a replica, forged only a couple of years ago at the request … and expense … of a particular customer for a very specific reason, which was why it was displayed in the shop.

 

“The roses were only on a few of the daggers of this type that I have seen. If my great-grandfather's records had not been destroyed in a fire, I might have been able to learn why. It might have pointed to a specific time period, as the design could have changed over the years, or it might have had some other significance. Now, unfortunately, we'll never know.”

 

A lady? That was an interesting twist. Maybe the gentleman who had paid for the replica would know who she was. He too, preferred to remain anonymous. Percival had only dealt with one of his servants, but apparently he had come to the shop at least once because the servant had told him that his master was pleased with the blade when he had paid him for it.

 

“That's mighty nice of you.” There were many questions on his mind, but the old weaponsmith didn't think the soldier would give him the answers he sought. Perhaps if he earned his respect, he would be willing to tell him more. Percival Smith was a patient man. “I'm afraid I can't help you identify the owner, but there's a good chance the palace might have a list of recipients since the daggers were official gifts from Queen Elizabeth.”

 

He walked back to the counter and picked up the knife again. “Some men of that time had their initials engraved on their weapons. Others didn't. If you'd like, I can clean this one up for you. There might be markings underneath the rust.”

[Charles Whitehurst]

The young earl listened as carefully as he might. A few pieces of the puzzle had been put into place, but more were missing. "I am wondering if the rose appeared for those recipients of royal blood," Charles mused aloud.

 

"Yes, can you please restore the blade and hilt as best you can? I should be happy to pay you for your services. I am Charles Whitehurst, Earl of Langdon. If you have need to reach me, perhaps send a message to me at Somerset Palace nearby. I am the Steward of the royal palace and much of my regiment is based there. Do you think I might come tomorrow afternoon to claim it?"

 

Already he was ready to visit Mister Potts in the library on the morrow. After his incident the previous evening in the library, he had no appetite to return there in the evening. "I shall learn what I can at the palace."

[Aria]

Percival shrugged. “Maybe. Sounds sensible to me.” Was that why the mysterious gentlemen who had commissioned the replica was interested in it? Because it had belonged to a royal? He had bought and sold a few identical daggers over the years, but only this one had the marking on the bottom of the guard that he had been told to look for. This he didn't mention to the soldier, and even if he noticed it, the old man had worked out an explanation for it.

 

An Earl who was the Steward of the royal palace. Despite his youth, he was not a man to be trifled with. Most likely, he had friends and family in high places. Again, Percival wondered about the lady that this solider was working for. Was she a royal herself?

 

“I can have it ready by tomorrow afternoon. And I'll do it for free if you tell me what you discover about it. I have a fondness for historical weapons, as you might have guessed from my displays, and I've discovered that most of them have interesting stories attached to them.”

[Charles Whitehurst]

"Grand," Langdon replied to the quick turnaround. He was eager to show the refurbished blade to Susan. "Much obliged. I shall see you tomorrow afternoon then." Charles paused to see if the old smith had anything else to offer. Failing that, a pleasant nod was offered and he turned to take his leave. There was still much to do.

 

 

 

 

 

 

~fin?

[Aria]

“I'll do my best, but don't expect for it be restored to the same quality as the one I have on display. I don't think that one was ever used.” Of course, it hadn't been, since it was a replica.

 

No one else was in the shop when Charles left, and Percival called his assistant from the back to take over for him while he wrote a letter to the mysterious customer who had paid for the replica. He did not reveal the name of the soldier who had brought the dagger in, but he did mention that he was working for a lady and that he held a position of importance.

 

When he was finished, he left the shop and went to the place where the man's servant had instructed to leave information and hid the letter where he had been told.

 

~finis~ as the plot thickens ...