Tenacious Read Online Free PDF Page B

“O’ course, the whole world knows o’
    this Toledo steel, but I never thought t’ sport such a one.”
    “I give you joy of your expectation, brother.”

    34

Julian Stockwin
    Renzi, who had been tutored from youth in the art of fencing, lifted out a straight-bladed spadroon and swung it round his wrist. Then, in a glittering whirl of motion, it came to rest, the needle point an inch from Kydd’s nose. “Supple, light in hand, but of no account in a serious contest,” Renzi said, and replaced it in the rack.
    Owen returned carrying a long package, which he carefully unwrapped on the counter top. Kydd caught his breath. Despite the ugly, naked tang at the top, the sword blade’s lethal gleam shone with an impossibly fine lustre. “Take it,” urged Owen. “If you look closely you might perceive the damascene workings.”
    Kydd lifted the blade, sighting along it and feeling its weight, admiring the almost imperceptible whorls of metal colour.
    “The other Toledo I have is a thirty-two-inch,” Owen said,
    “this being only a twenty-eight.”
    “No, sir. Aboard ship we set no value on length,” Kydd said, stroking the blade in reverence. “Sudden an’ quick’s the word, the shorter swings faster.”
    “Is the fullering to your satisfaction, sir?”
    Kydd slid his thumb down the single wide groove, feeling its sensual curvature as it diminished towards the tip. “Aye, it will do.”
    “Then perhaps we should discuss the furniture.”
    Kydd’s brow creased.
    “Yes. The blade is forged in Toledo, we perform the hilting here.” Kydd avoided Renzi’s eye and listened politely. “Naval gentlemen are taking a stirrup knuckle-bow these days,” he said, familiarly lifting a sword by its blade and holding it vertical.
    Instead of forming a round semicircle, the guard had a pleasing sinuosity, ending in a flat bar.
    “You will remark the short quillion on this piece,” he added, touching the sword crosspiece. “More to your sea tastes, I believe.

Tenacious
35
    And the grips—for a fighting sword we have ivory, filigree—”
    “Sharkskin,” Kydd said firmly, and turned to see Renzi nodding. “Aye, dark sharkskin it must be. Now, y’r pommel.”
    “Ah, yes. You naval gentlemen will be asking for the lionhead pommel. It remains only to specify how far down the backpiece of the grip you wish the mane to extend. Some gentlemen—”
    “Half-way will be fine.”
    “Chased?”
    “Er . . .”
    “Silver, gold?”
    “Ah, yes. How will gold chasin’ look, d’ye think, Nicholas?”
    “Dear fellow, this is a fighting sword.”
    “I think, then, none.”
    Owen returned the sword to its place. “And the detailing.” He pursed his lips and crossed to another rack. “Triangular langets?”
    he said, showing the neat little catch for holding the sword secure in its scabbard.
    “Not so plain, I’m thinkin’—have you an anchor, perhaps?”
    “Certainly. Would you consider damascening in blue and gold? Some blade-etching—a mermaid, a seahorse, perhaps? And the scabbard: black oiled leather, of course, with carrying rings and frog stud for belt or shoulder carriage. Shall the sword knot be in bullion or blue tassels?”
    It was well into the afternoon before all details had been settled.
    The sword-cutler had puzzled over Kydd’s insistent demand for engravings of choughs, but he had promised a sketch of the birds for the etching. For the rest, it had cost a pretty premium to command the entire resources of the workshop to have it finished in time, but he would then possess the finest sword imaginable—
    and there was every reason to suppose that it would soon be drawn in anger.

    36

Julian Stockwin
    Back on board, the remainder of the day passed busily. Men sweated in the heat as they struck stores down into the hold; others roused out cannonballs from their lockers and scaled rust from them; more still went over every inch of rigging.
    So far signal instructions from their new admiral had not