When he could see no more, as the motif faded at a point and would not reveal its mysteries, he bade Charlton to hold it and feel its faultlessness, but the instrument was too heavy for the boy. One by one the rest of the workers entered the shop that day and marveled at what Purchase had created in his sequestered fever, but none could lift it, nor could any decipher the legend that ran down the center of the blade.
The sharpness, though, was evident to all. One man touched a solid iron bar to it, which was split evenly in two. The same was true for paper, hair, and even rock. Nor did the blade dull. When he asked that they try to break it, they all balked, not wanting to harm anything so lovingly crafted. In fact none would approach until Purchase offered a reward for whoever could break that steel. Each man tried it then, but none of them could succeed. For Purchase had made a perfect sword, which he told all who would listen was the only need it had for existence, though he knew by then it would eventually be part of an altogether different and very sad business.
Defeated in their efforts to break the blade, the other men retired, each speaking in awe of it — most of all the master smith who had been first to teach Purchase about fallen metals. He then spent the rest of that day creating a scabbard for the weapon. Although the scabbard was itself a fine item of worthy craftsmanship, and even beauty, it was quite plain compared to the sword. Nor did Purchase see any reason it should be any other way. He wrapped the entire bundle in a piece of handsome fabric, then swaddled it again in coarse burlap to protect it. When he had finished, he bade an assistant bring his horse around.
When the boy appeared with the animal it was already nearing darkness, and Purchase boarded it in one graceful motion, holding the package in his hands. He set out briskly for Stonehouses, where he was expected.
He arrived just as the shadow across the sundial out front spread into general communion with the shadows around it, and the thumbnail of a sun, which had held up just long enough for him to say he was there before sundown, vanished.
He stabled his horse, rubbing it down a little before entering the house through the kitchen, where Sanne’s great oven was filled with foods. Before he even opened the door, he could feel the warmth from the other side of the wood and smell that his mother had been cooking all day. Inside he found Adelia, the girl who helped Sanne with the house chores, stirring a large pot as he greeted her.
“They were waiting for you to eat,” she said, as he made his way to the dining room. There he found his parents, as well as Content and Dorthea, several of his father’s friends, and their immediate neighbors — except Rudolph Stanton, who never mingled — all gathered to celebrate Merian’s birthday.
Purchase first greeted his mother, then all their guests, as his father watched from the chair where he sat. Finally he went to his elder.
“Since when is sundown half past eight?” Jasper asked, looking at a watch he had bought some years before. “You know how we appreciate punctuality.”
“You have my profuse apologies, Papa.”
Purchase knew his father’s moods by now, as well as how best to avoid them, but tonight he found occasion for good cheer, seeing that he was not intent on punishing him for his tardiness. The two men clasped and he bid his father a happy birthday and good health. Adelia then came out and Sanne announced dinner to be ready.
The guests sat down at a table of warm cherry wood, which worked on a scheme of folding and expanding sections that, when let out to its full length, was big enough to accommodate all the guests comfortably. The table was expanded that evening the entire length of the room and laid with hot dishes of venison, beef roast, ham, turkey, duck, partridge, potatoes, yams, green peas, and warm bread. For dessert there was pudding, apple pie, and cobbler.
Afterward the cider and wine continued to flow at the table, with everyone drinking and enjoying themselves tremendously. Tea and coffee were served at the end, after they sang in that most comfortable hall to Merian’s health and grand hospitality.
When everyone had satisfied himself with food and drink, and they had cheered their host sufficient enough for a king, they began to bestow gifts upon Merian to commemorate this day of joy and feasting, for he had been on the land then some twenty-odd years, and could say he was a man in old age. The exact number he knew not, but that it was around fifty. Stonehouses was known by then across the county, and his years and prosperity there had surpassed even his own expectations. True, he was frustrated in the desire to keep expanding his lands, but he had done well, bringing wealth enough to his house, and counted his time now in blocks and cycles of years instead of a single calendar turn. He was happy with what he had wrought and been blessed with.
His only living sorrow was in his son Purchase, who went steadily in his own direction, and that never closer to Stonehouses and the hearth but farther away.
First Content and Dorthea presented him with a cask of the best brandy sold in the colonies, and Merian was much pleased. Then there came a French hunting pistol from the chandler, who over the years he had grown, if not fond of, at least able to bear on friendly terms. “It’ll not backfire on me, will it, Pete?” he asked, to gales of laughter from all present who had ever had dealings with the man. He was then given a hat by Sanne, that was very dear, and he was a man at ease and good comfort.
When he thought he had received all his presents, he smiled and lifted his glass to the assembly. He did not begrudge his son not giving him anything, as such notions are not held in spite among members of the same family. No he was not sorrowed.
Purchase, however, came forth then with his present and placed it before Merian, who smiled with abundance and gratitude even before opening it.
When everyone saw the size of the package from Purchase, they all pressed near to watch as Merian undid the wrapping. After the cloth flew away the entire room held its breath as they looked on the scabbard, for it was beautiful in itself. Merian closed his hand around the sword’s hilt and drew it forth. Purchase himself was apprehensive, remembering that no man in the workshop could lift it, but Merian pulled it forth quite handsomely, as if he had been handling swords his entire life.
Everyone in the room looked at the metal when it came forth among them, and the wondrous flash that danced in the light, and each of them let out the breaths they had been holding, as if pining for something or someone. Jasper himself looked at it and saw his entire history written on the blade: first were two people he could not make out fully but knew instinctively to be his mother and father. He saw next the Sorels, and he saw Ruth, and he saw Ware, called Magnus, though both of them were, to his mind, abstractions. Even Ruth was not as he would have her be but much receded from his mind’s eye — so that he saw very little of her when he tried to look there, though he did try sometimes. On the sword she was bright and perfect, and he began thinking again of those lines that had nearly tied him down all those years ago on the road out from Virginia.
He saw the gods of a strange people, as well as the same Adam and Eve that Purchase had viewed. There was so much there that, as he read it all, he allowed himself a rare moment and wept, bedazzled both by the sword and that his son had thought so lovingly of him.
His chiefest pride was in knowing that Purchase had made it, for everyone could see it was of a craftsmanship hardly seen, either in the colonies or, said one present who had been there, in Europe. For the sword itself, he was a farmer and sometime carpenter and housewright, with no pretensions to anything else in the world, besides that he was lord of Stonehouses. He was a man of peace with no need of the blade. Nonetheless, this one did take on a place of utmost honor in his home, and he embraced Purchase again. For he was so happy his son could do such things and that it might mean he intended to do all right as a man in general.