I chose to tell this tale set in a past so remote that it is sounds like something out of a fable as a reminder — humans really don’t change. Or perhaps this distance is not for the reader, but simply for me to try to say something without becoming complacent of the fact that problems now are not special and have been around for a long time. Stop taking myself so seriously.
Though the hot iron and anvil of the blacksmith trade sounds foreign today, it was something very common for the blacksmith’s wife, not only for the obvious reason that her husband works in the adjoining shed of their little house, but also because she had to take up the trade after her husband had fallen sick and eventually passed away. Her husband had a reputation for his craft and she often helped him with work, so it seemed natural to her that she could only step down after completing many of the clients’ requests her husband had left incomplete. One important commission was the request from the Emperor to forge the best sword in the country.
The blacksmith’s wife had worked really hard to deliver the requests of her husband’s clients, but the Emperor’s one was the most daunting. Her skills were far from perfect. After all, despite helping out in the shed, her more important role when her husband was still alive was to entertain potential clients.
She took pride in her job and was privately satisfied that she had contributed to part of her husband’s reputation. People far and wide in the country knew her as the blacksmith’s wife because she had a heart of gold and would help any of the clients who came with certain worries. The blacksmith’s wife had given her all to help and had surprised and touched many. She had helped set up connections between clients for the son of one to have a chance at education, and another to seek out great opportunities as a merchant. She had looked after children that the clients had brought along, many whose mothers had died at childbirth, and provided food and shelter when it is too late and too dangerous for clients to embark on the long journey home.
The zealous blacksmith’s wife was not perfect and had her faults. She was stubborn, and hence had refused to let the trade to the other less prominent blacksmiths around. She For the purposes of the story, there is no need to further delve into this.
Despite the daunting task of forging the best sword as per the Emperor’s request, the blacksmith’s wife worked hard and managed to present a decently crafted weapon by the deadline. It gleamed blue and could cut through most objects with ease. The commissioner, one of the Emperor’s generals, understood her situation and graciously approving it after inspection and promised to collect it the day after. Unfortunately for the blacksmith’s wife, the next day revealed only an empty space where the sword was guarded. She quickly reported it to the general and begged for an extension of deadline for her to craft another weapon. Once again, she was graciously forgiven.
That is not the end of the story, because weeks later, in the midst of forging the second sword, a shocking news rippled nation-wide. The Emperor had been assassinated with a sword lying by his body. As how the story would have it, the sword was the very one the blacksmith’s wife had crafted and lost.
This news came to the blacksmith’s wife as she left the chemist’s after flitting around the whole evening looking for ingredients of a medicine for a sprained wrist. The Emperor’s special guards had confronted her on the streets and charged her as the prime suspect and was bound for execution. Absolutely shocked, the blacksmith’s wife explained her alibi and promised that there were people willing to vouch for her. By now, a crowd had gathered .
The previous chemists she visited were not in the shop, and hence were unable to corroborate her alibi. The sprained wrist medicine she was looking for was also incredibly suspicious, but she was sure that one of her client’s son would be willing to vouch that it was for him after he had tried to sneak around her shed without supervision.
As the story would have it, good people are not promised a good life. The blacksmith’s wife was thrown into jail because nobody came forward to vouch for her. Unable to prove her innocence, the blacksmith’s wife was sentenced to execution.
On the day of the execution, kneeling on the floor with the executioner beside her, the blacksmith’s wife makes one last plea to the crowd around her, “Please! Anyone whom I have helped before! Please, anyone I know can vouch for my innocence!” Her sincerity was met with a stone wall, and she was humiliated and mortified. She saw a lot of the clients who had benefited from her help before, she even saw the child for whom she was finding the medicine for, restrained by his parents.
The blacksmith’s wife called out to each of them and only managed to make a fool out of herself. In this story, money talks. The blacksmith’s wife’s final thoughts before the executioner swung at her, was musing at how cold her heart had felt knowing that people would never do for her what she was willing to do for them.
And that is all to this story about the blacksmith’s wife.
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