Matthew was excited, as that made the sword even older than he could have ever imagined. Gwen attempted to throw cold water on his hopes.
“Mind you, there was a time that Victorians were making fake arms and armour and other artefacts to fill their gothic country houses cheaply, making them look authentic by writing gibberish in the form of what they thought was ancient script. My uncle found a battle axe in an old garage sale that was supposed to be Viking but ended up having been made by a local blacksmith for some English gentry who wanted to look good in the eyes of his fellow rich people in the mid-Victorian period, say 1880,” she said.
“Oh, not this sword. I am pretty sure it’s authentic,” Matthew said.
“May I?” Tamsyn asked.
“Of course.”
She reached out and moved the mouse expertly, so she could read the inscription. It was so familiar that she knew exactly how heavy the sword would be if she could only find it. She knew it was hidden here somewhere.
Smiling knowingly, Matthew watched as the girl looked at the other side and the other inscription for a second time.
“This is a sword with deep religious significance,” she said. “This word here denotes a blessing in the name of Ambisagrus.”
“Who was he?” Matthew asked, dazzled by the fact that this slip of a girl possessed such knowledge.
“He had a mixed portfolio, so to speak. He was a God of thunder and lightning: the Ancestor God, Sky God, God of Wind, Rain & Hail.”
“You mean a Celtic Deity?”
“Yes, he was what is known as a Brythonic deity.”
Matthew looked blankly at her.
“The Brythonic Celts were those who initially settled in Britain and who migrated to Brittany.”
“I thought it was the other way around?”
“There was a good degree of movement in both directions. But, there were Gaulish Celts already settled in Gaul, so the Breton Celts were mainly descended from those who came here first and then, went back as the Germanic and Norse invaders came after the Romans. That’s why the language of Breton Celts is so closely related to Welsh and Cornish. The Gaulish Celts’ language is quite different.”
Gwen regarded Tamsyn in almost awe. How the heck she knew all this was beyond her.
“And the rest of the inscription?” Matthew asked.
“There are a couple of words here that are ambiguous, but the rough gist of it is: The bearer of this sword be blessed by Ambisagrus and, now this word is not clear, but I think it is Sabrina.”
“Sabrina?”
“She was the goddess of the River Severn, so that would place the sword at the heart of the southwest of England.”
Matthew frowned.
“Just how do you come to know all this?” he asked. “My experts claimed that nobody in the country would have the ability to translate this inscription. Even professors at universities who are supposed to be the most knowledgeable in Europe failed.”
Tamsyn shrugged, as if it was all of no consequence.
“I’ve been interested in this since I was little. My granny was steeped in the local folklore, so she’d tell me about it all. She would speak in the Cornish and would probably have been able to read this as well.”
“Go on, what else does it say?”
“After the blessing bit, it says that while this sword remains in the hands of the True-blood, the, and the word here is not familiar, I think it says people, but it looks more like – tribe, shall remain free and pure. The Sword shall bring blessings and wisdom to the True-blood, and curses to those who defile the people.”
“And on the other side?”
Tamsyn knew it without turning it over, but she clicked on the other page and pretended to look.
“Cursed be he who wrests the sword from the True-blood, and the curse shall be borne by countless generations until the pure blood returns the sword to the fire that forged it.”
Matthew was stunned into silence. This was not what he expected.
“You are sure?”
Tamsyn shrugged again.
“As I said, the script is very old, and I’m not that familiar with it. It is similar enough to the Cornish to make it a ninety percent chance I’m close to the mark.”
“This True-blood, what does that mean?”
It was Gwen who answered him.
“Cornish and Celtic folklore states that the warrior king’s blood-line was blessed. While the sword remained in the hands of the family, then the people would be safe and free. However, if the sword were to be seized by someone not of the blood-line, then they would be scattered to the four winds.”
“This is obviously what happened.”
“Indeed, it is legend that a Saxon warrior called Brandt took a sword like this from a blood-line back in the dim past near Falmouth. But, they say it is a legend.”
“May we see what else was found in the burial mound?” Gwen asked. “If we can tie this man, Brandt, into the local Cornish legends, it would be so important.”
“Most of the contents of the mound were removed and are on display in the local county museum. Unfortunately, it is not open on a Sunday, but I do have many photographs of the site from before they moved anything.”
“That would be almost as good,” said Gwen, wondering why the normally bubbly teen was so silent.
Matthew showed Gwen many of the photographs he had taken of the burial mound after it had been unearthed and before the contents were listed painstakingly and removed. There were many photographs of the mummified warrior clasping an ornate box to his chest.
It was plain to see, as far as Tamsyn was concerned, that his hands had not originally been clasping the box, as the fingers were resting on it still curled as if holding a sword hilt.
“There is a chance that this man was the same man who defeated the Celts in Cornwall around 700 AD. It’s just a shame that the sword was not buried with him,” Gwen said.
“Why is the sword so important?” Matthew asked.
“According to the legend, it was the symbol of the Royal Blood-line. Legend stated that the sword must be returned to the place it was forged so that the Blood-line can finally rest in their rightful place again. Are you sure that sword you showed us was not in the burial site?”
“No, it came to me a long time before. Besides, those who unearthed the site removed everything that was there.”
“Then, it is highly likely that this sword is simply a very good copy or actually comes from the same period. Pity, as the sword would fit in here nicely. It’s almost like the sword in the stone,” said Gwen.
Matthew laughed.
“I hate to think what the Windsors might think of that,” he said. “I rather think the Royal Family is rather keen on staying put.
“Oh, it does not refer to this plain of existence, rather within the spiritual realm,” Gwen said. “There is an imbalance within the spiritual realm while this sword is allowed to remain in the hands of those to whom it does not belong.”
Matthew’s expression changed to one of incredulity. As if he thought he had been talking to someone of some intelligence and now, just for mentioning the spiritual realm, Gwen’s intellect was in doubt.
“The sword is simply a weapon, surely?” he asked.
“On one level, the material or physical level, yes, but it is so much more. It is a symbol of power and of right.”
“Right as opposed to wrong?”
“Yes and then again, no; also right as in divine right.”
Matthew laughed.
“So, you’re telling me that this sword, wherever it might be, is causing an imbalance amongst the un-dead because it’s in the wrong hands and God is upset?”
“There were Gods in this land long before the Judeo-Christian religion hit these shores. Now, I’m a believer in the Almighty, but He is so big and so great, I cannot argue with the possibility that he may have more than one facet. The Christians decided that he has three facets, so why stop at three?”