Page 9 of Feathers in the Wind
Robin shot a quick glance at Adam’s back before turning back to his aunt. ‘Denzil wanted to be certain that you would be safe in the coming conflict, Aunt, and as he had not had a response from you he sent me to ensure that the message had been received.’
‘I’m flattered that Denzil found it necessary to send two emissaries on that mission,’ Joan said, ‘particularly as no Marchant has shown the slightest interest in my welfare over the last ten years.’
Robin flushed. ‘Father—’
‘Yes, I’m quite aware of my brother’s capacity for holding grudges, Robin,’ Joan said. ‘He’s dead and now Denzil is trying to mend the bridges. How very commendable. Please thank your brother for his consideration, but Preswood is my home and I have no intention of leaving.’ She paused, as if to compose herself. ‘How is Denzil?’
‘He is colonel in the King's horse,’ Robin said.
‘And you?’
‘He made me a lieutenant,’ Robin replied with the smile of a young man bestowed with great responsibility.
‘And where is Louise in all of this?’ Joan enquired.
It seemed to Perdita that the tension in the room heightened, crackling at the very mention of Lady Marchant’s name.
Robin cleared his throat. ‘Louise remains with the queen in France,’ he replied. ‘The queen is raising money for the King’s cause, a cause we all hold dear.’
‘Indeed we do,’ Bess agreed.
Robin rose to his feet and faced his brother’s stiff back. ‘Well, Adam?’ The challenge in his voice was unmistakable. ‘Have you decided what side you take in the coming conflict?’
There was a brief, awful silence as Adam turned to face his brother, his shoulders rigid and his mouth a hard line. The contrast between this hardened soldier and the younger man could not have been more marked.
‘Parliament has my sword, Robin.’
Robin gave a snort of anger, the fingers of his left hand resting on the hilt of his sword clenched and unclenched.
‘I knew it. You have no loyalty, Adam. Not to yourself, your family or the king you have served. I should run you through now and save the king the trouble,’ he blurted with the bravado of a school boy.
‘I owe my family precious little loyalty, Robin.’ Adam said sharply. ‘Now, take your hand from your sword. It ill behoves your aunt’s hearth.’
Robin flushed and dropped his hand to his side where his fingers twitched as if they longed to take to the sword again.
‘Adam’s right.’ Joan's sharp voice interposed. ‘I’ll not have the first blood of this accursed war shed on my hearth. Keep your peace in this house, Robin.’
Robin looked down at her. ‘For your sake, Aunt, but do not ask me to make peace with this man.’
‘I don’t,’ Joan said quietly. ‘I just ask you to mind your manners.’
‘Robin.’ Adam raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. ‘My past is tied with Denzil, not with you. Don’t let us part this way.’
Robin’s lips tightened. ‘The king’s enemies are my enemies,’ he said and turned to his aunt. ‘We believe the king will make his base in Oxford and I will make it my business to see you as often as I can, Aunt. For now I must leave you. While Adam remains here, I’ll not stay.’ He picked up her hand and kissed it. ‘Until next time.’
Joan laid a hand, crooked with the arthritis that plagued her, on his head. ‘God keep you safe, Robin. I am sorry you missed Simon. He had some business on one of the farms that called him away.’
Robin managed a faint smile and turned to Bess. ‘Mistress Clifford, it has been a great pleasure to make your acquaintance, however brief.’ His hand lingered on Bess’s outstretched fingers slightly longer than propriety demanded as he added, casting a dark look at his brother, ‘I apologise for the unseemly row.’
He briefly acknowledged Perdita's existence with a cursory bow and left.
Long after his footsteps had died away and the great door had shut, the silence in the parlour remained a palpable force.
‘Is it true?’ Joan spoke at last, her eyes fixed on Adam as they had been from the moment he had uttered the fateful words. ‘Have you given your sword to Parliament?’
Adam returned her gaze without blinking. ‘When I was in Stratford, Lord Brooke offered me a commission to join the garrison at Warwick Castle. I said I would think on it and I’ve made my decision.’
Joan lowered her head, the dark curls, liberally sprinkled with grey, hiding her face. ‘Oh, Adam,’ she said quietly. ‘It shouldn’t have come to this. To deliberately set yourself against your brothers…’
