rest.”
Legon shook his head. “No wonder I’m so tired — I was delirious last night.”
Sasha laughed and said curtly to him, “Rude!”
They sat down and Legon ate his eggs. They were good, but not as good as Sasha’s pies were. After they ate Sasha washed the dishes and took off her apron, then went upstairs to get her money pouch. Legon walked to the space under the stairs to get their bows. Kovos was always up for shooting, and they hadn’t gotten the chance yesterday. Legon grabbed Sasha’s hunting bow and his combat bow.
Legon, like most of the men in town, had two bows, one that was for hunting and the other for combat. A hunting bow usually had a fifty to sixty pound draw weight on them, perfect for bringing down all but the largest animals but underpowered against armored targets. Chain mail was expensive, so very few people had it, but bandits and soldiers that didn’t have chain mail wore a thick doublet that was made of layered cloth and leather. The doublet would not be able to stop an arrow cold at close range, but it could from a distance. For a hunting bow to penetrate the armor at close range the shooter had to be about ten feet away. It was for this reason that combat bows were significantly stronger.
The average man had a bow with a draw weight of one hundred and sixty to one hundred and eighty pounds, which gave it an effective range of about two hundred yards and the power to go through leather armor and punch through chain male from about eighty yards away. Combat bows were too over-powered for hunting but were a necessary precaution. With them, most men got to the point where they could fire between ten and twenty arrows a minute.
Legon, however, was unusually strong, and his bow had a two hundred pound draw weight. A beautiful weapon, it was made of yew and as was as tall as him. He could hit a head-size target nine times out of ten from one hundred and eighty yards away and could fire eighteen arrows a minute. Only two other men in town, Brack and Arkin, could fire such a bow, but neither could claim Legon’s accuracy.
Legon walked over to the door and waited for Sasha. She came down the steps and they walked outside. The town was alive at this time in the morning, and people were moving in all directions in the streets. They began to walk in the direction of Kovos’ house. They waved and said hello to townspeople as they passed, and soon they were walking by the town carpenter’s house and shop. As they passed, Sasha touched Legon’s arm. “Let’s go say hello to Arkin. I haven’t seen him in awhile.” Sasha liked Arkin. He was the only one in the town that was truly kind to her, and Legon liked him too. He had always been a good family friend.
“Ok, that sounds good.” They walked up to the door of the shop and walked in.
As Legon opened the door their noses were filled with the scent of oak, cherry, pine, and other kinds of wood. They skirted around the counter and headed into the open work area. Sasha walked to the center of the room and ran her hand over a large table.
“He’s inlayed a checkered pattern on this. What do you think-cherry and oak?” she asked, inspecting the unfinished wood.
Legon glanced at it. “Yup, looks like it, and big too. I’d say for a family of eight. Looks like he’s got the chairs in that corner. It doesn’t look like he’s here, though. His tools are on the wall.” Way too many tools.
“You’re right. The back door is closed, and there isn’t even any dust in the air. Odd. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this place like this. Do you think he’s in today?”
She was right. Normally dust motes filled the air, swirling up to the skylight high above them. Lighting a place like this was difficult. Fire was an obvious liability with everything being made of wood, and more important the air usually being filled with sawdust. It was rare but not unheard of for a carpenter’s shop to burn down from a fire stated by stray sawdust. Arkin’s shop was well lit with the two skylights and large windows on either side of the door.
A smooth, warm voice greeted them. “Sasha, Legon, how good to see you. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Arkin said, stepping into the room.
He was tall and of a medium build, with long blond hair and hazel eyes, a thin jaw line, and a small nose. He was wearing a white shirt and brown pants, over which he had on a leather apron with three pockets built into the waist. He walked with a smooth gait and perfect posture. He was not what you would envision a carpenter to be; he was refined and confident, qualities that shined through not only in his countenance but also his work. He was not an arrogant man, however. He was kind and fair, slow to anger and had a balance of sternness and patience. Legon and Sasha had always liked him and had gotten along with him well. There was a smile on his face that revealed straight white teeth.
“We were on our way to see Kovos when I realized that it has been far too long since I’ve seen you,” Sasha said brightly.
“Yes it has, and unfortunately you have caught me at a bad time. I’ve been out hunting for the last few days and am behind on work.”
“Did you get anything?” Legon asked.
“Ah… no, I didn’t but it was nice to get out,” Arkin said. Legon detected a hint of apprehension in his voice.
Arkin said abruptly, “Will you come by later this week and have tea with me? Then we could catch up.”
“We would love to,” said Sasha, and Legon piped in, “Yeah we’ll catch you in a few days… see ya, Arkin”.
They walked out of the shop with a wave and continued to Kovos’. After they had walked a bit Legon leaned over to Sasha.
“Did something seem off to you with Arkin?” She tilted her head slightly to the side.
“I don’t know. He did seem a bit preoccupied, and he was a little vague about his hunting trip.”
“Yeah, and I’ve never known him not to bring a kill in for us to butcher. That must mean he didn’t get anything, which is odd for him.” As Legon spoke he looked at the ground and his voice was soft, almost like he was talking to himself.
“Oh well. There’s Kovos,” Sasha pointed out.
They had arrived at their friend’s house. To the right of it was a stone shop with smoke belching from a flue. They both went up to the door of the shop and walked in. They were met with a wall of heat. The one-room shop was large. Brack, Kovos’ father was by the wall on the right side of the building, standing in front of a large furnace that curved up from the ground like a teardrop. There was a long pipe that rose from the furnace to the ceiling. The furnace was made of some sort of clay, but it was impossible to distinguish from the black soot that covered it. Brack was working a billow with one hand and holding a metal rod in the other. The rod was deep in the fire; red was creeping up the rod toward Brack’s glove. He was also wearing soot-black pants and what had once been a white shirt with sleeves rolled up past his elbows. As he worked the billows, sparks and flame roared out from the opening of the furnace like some monster from a children’s story.
Benches and anvils were scattered throughout the room. It was lit only by the furnace’s glow which cast the room in a sharp contrast of dark and bloody hues of red and orange. In the center of the room was Kovos. Both he and his father were wearing thick aprons made in the fashion of leather armor. They were scorched and cut in places, signs of the hot iron’s angry touch. Kovos was wearing a thick pair of gloves and pounding on a piece of red-hot iron. Each time the hammer hit, sparks flew from it in protest. Kovos and his father were amazing to watch. They brought their hammers high in the air and then down with incredible force and precision.
Sasha was having a hard time hearing over the roar of the furnace. Legon had to shout over it. “Kovos! Kovos, pay attention to me you great buffoon!”
At this Kovos looked up, made a rude hand gesture at Legon, and continued to work. Legon and Sasha laughed. “Good to see you too.”
Kovos nodded to them, telling them to wait a minute. He raised the hammer high and brought it down with force on the rod, showering the floor with sparks. Sasha noticed the muscles on his bare arms ripple when the hammer reached its target. His stocky build was made for this work. Kovos was wearing the same black pants and blackened shirt as his father. He put down the hammer and walked over to them with the rod still in his hands. “Let me give this back to dad and we can go out back.” They nodded and walked to the back of the shop.
It felt good to get out of the heat and into the alleyway behind the shop. The spring air was cool and inviting. A moment later Kovos came walking out with a large cleaver of the type Legon had used the previous day to split a cow. He wasn’t wearing the apron anymore and looked happy to be out of the shop. He handed the cleaver to
