Remembrance Read online

  Seeing Talis tossing Callie about was a familiar sight to the people they lived with, but not to the fifteen or so men standing in the farmyard. With mouths agape, the men stood and watched the girl go spinning through the air, hair whipping out about her like a windmill. More than one man held his breath that Talis was going to catch her.

  He did, with ease and expertise, then, oblivious to everyone else, he grabbed Callie’s hand and they went running into the house.

  25

  The first sight Callie and Talis had of Hadley Hall struck them dumb. For two days they had been riding together, Callie in front as they made their way back to what was to be their home. For them it had been days of trying to settle themselves to the prospect of their new life. Callie had cried for some time at leaving Meg and Will, who had refused John’s offer to go with them.

  “Our place is here,” Will had said. “We will be here if you need us.”

  Meg had been too upset to say a word.

  Talis had done his best not to show the wrench he was feeling at leaving his home. Part of him wanted this great adventure and part of him despaired at leaving Will, who had taught him so much and whose quiet wisdom had always been there for him.

  However, neither Talis nor Callie had shed tears at leaving Nigel behind. Lord John had given him a couple of gold coins and he’d gone on his way.

  While riding on the horse toward Hadley Hall Talis had talked to Callie at length, softly telling her that she was going to be separated from him and that she must be strong. “I will not always be there to take care of you,” he said. “You must learn to do without me every minute of every day.”

  Swallowing, Callie had nodded. “Will you miss me?”

  “Yes, of course, but we are not children any longer. We must be adults. Promise me you will behave. You will obey my father?”

  Callie nodded. She would try. She would make Talis proud of her and would be very adult and grown up about their new lives. No more sleeping just a few feet apart. No more—No more anything, she thought, remembering the days when they had belonged to just each other.

  “When will we see each other?” she asked.

  “As soon as I can arrange it. I will have to impress my father first. I will have to make him care for me before I ask him things about…About us.”

  She was not sure what Talis meant by those words, but she hoped—prayed—that he meant marriage. If they were not married they would not be allowed to stay together as they had at the farm. She knew that just from what she had seen of the members of the upper class who had ridden through the village.

  She snuggled her head back into Talis’s shoulder. She did not know how she was going to live without touching him every day. It was painful to her when Nigel made them sit apart during lessons. Neither Meg nor Will minded when she and Talis ate with their ankles entwined at the table.

  As always, Talis knew what she was thinking and he put one of his hands over both of hers on the saddle. “Soon,” he whispered. “Soon. I promise you. I will do what must be done as soon as possible. It will be more difficult if we have caused trouble. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” she answered, and she did understand. Angry adults did not give younger people permission to do what they wanted. If it meant she could have Talis all to herself in the end, she would stay away from him for a year. She would, of course, die a little bit each day, but she would do what must be done.

  For the days of travel toward his home, John Hadley had done little except stare at his son, his head reeling with all the things they would now do together. At last his life would hold some meaning; he’d have someone to leave all his worldly goods to. He discounted those two weakling boys his wife had given him. At nineteen and twenty, his sons weren’t as big or as healthy as this handsome, dark boy who hovered so protectively over the pale girl.

  In his silent watching, John was thrilled to find out that the boy was as likable as he was beautiful. Last night at the inn, he had not been shy. If the truth were told, John had feared that being raised by peasants would have made him into a peasant, but this boy was a prince even though his hands were stained and hardened from manual labor. No matter that his clothes were rough and crude, discolored by the barnyard, he carried himself as though he were destined for the throne of England.

  Silver tongue. That’s what one of his men had said that Talis had: a silver tongue. He talked and joked and laughed with men twice his age last night, and when they said he was too young for the beer they were drinking, Talis showed them all by drinking twice as much as they did and still being able to walk up the stairs. He said that Will’s beer was stronger than the innkeeper’s; Will didn’t water his beer.

  Oh yes, John thought, the boy was a wonder: good to look at, personable, talented, strong (he had beaten three men in arm wrestling, then made them all laugh when Talis had accused them of soft living). Talis was a son any man could be proud of.

  The only oddity about him was the way he kept the girl near him, that pale shadow of a girl who watched everything. John had ordered her to bed, but Talis, without so much as turning, had said, “Callie may stay.”

  Just like that. For a moment, John’s temper had started to rise. He did not allow anyone to talk to him in that tone. No one countered his orders. But some part of him knew that if he told Talis he could not have the girl near him, the boy would leave them. In a flash he would walk out of the inn and no offer in the world would bring him back.

  With great interest, his men watched him, and John knew he needed to establish his authority, but the outcome could be too serious. After a while, he laughed. “I defer to my son,” he said, then saw the way Talis looked at him in puzzlement. The boy had not known that, in countermanding John’s orders, he had issued a challenge. It was just that no one had ever before suggested that Callie be taken away from him, not Will, not Meg, no one. Nigel had mentioned the idea, but no one had listened to him. To Talis, Callie was his, and she belonged with him and she was going to stay near him as long as possible.

  John looked at the girl with distaste, and for the first time in his life, he felt jealousy. Until now, there had never been anything he’d ever wanted to possess so completely that he wanted to share it with no one else. But he wanted this boy. He wanted Talis as he’d never wanted anything else. And he wanted him for his own. John did not like it when Talis spoke so often of that farmer, Will Watkins, as though he were a man of great standing in the world. John didn’t like it when Talis mentioned Will; nor did he like the way the girl followed Talis everywhere.

  Without a thought of what he was doing, John decided that he would separate them as soon as possible.

  Callie and Talis looked up at the house, their mouths open in awe. “Have you ever seen such?” Callie whispered.

  “Never. I did not know a house could be so large.”

  John had spent the last sixteen years in a frenzy of building. John put every bit of his energy into this house. This house had become his family, his very reason for living. In spite of all the children he had produced, to him, his life was barren. He dismissed the daughters, despaired of his weak sons, so he had done the best he could to leave something behind.

  The stone house spread out over a long L shape that from the outside looked solid but actually hid several beautiful and useful little courtyards. There was a courtyard for the retainers, one for the kitchen, one for private family use, and another off the large hall court.

  Not far from the house were many smaller buildings in a matching gray stone, and everywhere people were moving about, men with scythes on their shoulders, women carrying skeins of wool, all looking prosperous and busy.

  Following John’s example, Callie and Talis dismounted and gave the horse’s reins to the boys who were waiting to take them. Curiously, the servants looked at the newcomers, not dressed as nobles but riding a horse meant for a nobleman. If nothing else, the rare smile on John Hadley’s face was enough to make them step back in wonder.