The Golden Acorn

The Golden Acorn.

Chapter One.

The Blacksmith.

Babbin was born big, and he carried on growing after that too. By the time he was fourteen, he was bigger than every man in the village. Like many truly large people, Babbin was gentle. Most children adored him.

There was one boy, however, who took great delight in taunting him. This lad called Babbin a great, stupid ox. Babbin ignored the insults for as long as he could, but one day it became too much. He picked up the boy and threw him into the horse pond on the village green.

The lad sank at once. When he did not reappear, Babbin waded in, hauled him out, and draped him over the village stocks until the water drained from him. After that, no one ever called Babbin names again. Babbin vowed he would never lose his temper or fight again.

Because of his size, his parents were thrilled when he was apprenticed to the village blacksmith, who was also the local farrier.

Animals trusted Babbin, and the blacksmith soon realised that he could calm and shoe even the wildest horses with ease.

Babbin quickly learned how to make many of the things a blacksmith is called upon to supply. He could make shoes for everything from the tiniest pony to the biggest shire horse. He enjoyed that side of the work most of all. He made sickles and scythe blades, mended broken ploughs, and repaired anything the farmers brought him. His fame spread far and wide.

He even learned how to mend pots and pans, which made him very popular with the women of the village.

Despite his skill with iron and steel, Babbin was not satisfied.

Barehill, the small town where he lived, had a grand market hall in the centre. Every month a market was held there. One stall sold delicate trinkets made from silver and gold, or what looked like silver and gold.

The old blacksmith laughed when Babbin admired them. Many were made from brass, lead, or copper, polished to fool the unwary.

Babbin did not care. He did not want to buy them, he wanted to learn how to make such things himself.

The stallholder shook his head when Babbin asked how they were made.

“I just buy them in the city and sell them here,” he said. “You’d have to go to the city and learn their secrets, but I doubt they’d tell you.”

He was right.

Babbin went into the city and found a silversmith with a shop on the main road. The man sold all sorts of trinkets made from silver and gold.

“I would love to make things like these,” Babbin said. “I can work iron and steel, but I want to learn this craft.” He picked up a bracelet from the counter.

The silversmith snatched it from his hand. “Don’t touch if you can’t buy.”

“I have money,” Babbin replied quietly. “I want to buy a present for a girl I know, but I would much rather make one for her myself.”

The man laughed, not kindly. “I doubt anyone as big and clumsy as you could make these.” He waved at his stock. “But if you truly want to know, you could become my apprentice. It only takes seven years or so. Of course, you’d have to pay me to teach you.”

Babbin shook his head. “I am already apprenticed to a blacksmith, thank you. When I am fully trained and need an apprentice, I will take one on for free.”

“More fool you,” sneered the silversmith. “Now buy something or leave. I have other customers.”

Babbin looked around the empty shop and shook his head. “There are other shops, thank you.”

He received the same sort of answer from every tradesman he spoke to. Not one was willing to share their secrets. In the end, he chose a nice bracelet to take home.

“If I cannot learn to work in gold and silver,” he told himself, “then I will make such things in iron, or steel, or copper, or bronze.”

Back at the smithy, alongside his usual work, he practised making more delicate items. Soon he could fashion all sorts of small ornaments. People were so impressed that he sold enough of them to feel he could take a bride.

When he was twenty‑one and had just finished his apprenticeship, the old blacksmith died. Having no children of his own, he left the smithy to Babbin. Sadly, Babbin’s parents were no longer alive to see their son doing so well.

Apart from that sorrow, life was good. All the village maidens wanted to be friends with him, but he had eyes only for one: Inga. She was tall and slim, and to Babbin, the most beautiful girl in the world.

Inga was the daughter of Walter Oaken, the saddler, though he made far more than saddles. He crafted everything from ladies’ purses to boots, kid gloves to belts, and leather aprons to harnesses. He was a successful businessman and employed two craftsmen as well as his two sons.

At a very early age, Inga took over the business accounts. She wrote everything in a large red book, ensured the craftsmen were paid, sent out bills, paid the tanners, and oversaw deliveries. Woe betide anyone who tried to cheat her. At the end of each year, she even paid the taxes to the Kingsman who ruled the town on the King’s behalf.

Her father was proud of his clever daughter. “We shall lose a valuable asset if she marries and leaves,” he told her mother.

Inga’s mother agreed, but did not tell him that Inga had already made up her mind. At the age of twelve, she had met Babbin and declared privately to her mother that she intended to marry him. She did not tell Babbin this, but she made sure she met him whenever he was out in the town.

She also made it clear to the other girls that Babbin was hers, and since she was taller and stronger than any of them, they respected her choice.

So, when Babbin, after making sure Inga wanted him to, asked her father for her hand, there were no disappointed girls left behind.

He made a rose from thin copper sheet.

“I cannot grow flowers,” he told Inga, “but I wanted to give you a rose. So, I made this one for you.”

Her father was not displeased with the match. Babbin was a good man, and even better, Inga promised to continue managing the saddler’s accounts.

“I can do your books as well as the smithy’s,” she said.

The wedding took place before the Kingsman and, after much dancing, drinking, and feasting, Inga moved into the cottage beside the smithy.

Babbin gave her the silver bracelet he had bought in the city.