Page 51 of By the Sword
For two days Tom sat in the parlour, working at his books or staring out of the window as if he expected Robert to come riding up on his fat little pony. If Kate tried to hold him, he stiffened and turned away. It frightened her that she could not reach him and she watched him in agony, her grief not so much for Robert, who was beyond mortal pain, but for this silent, suffering child of hers.
‘It’s not natural,’ Ellen remarked to Kate as another half-touched plate of food was set aside. ‘The lad’ll fade away himself if he keeps this up.’
The mild weather did not last. It broke in a fierce storm, lashing the trees and subjugating the new growth in the walled garden. Kate lay in her bed, listening to the beating of the rain on the windows and thinking, as she often did, of Jonathan. The nagging ache of loneliness was as painful as a physical hurt.
She turned over as a sudden draught blew through the door and Tom climbed into her bed, putting his cold feet against her.She took him into her arms and held him close as she had done when he was a baby.
‘Surely not frightened of the storm?’ she asked softly.
He shook his head. ‘Mother,’ he said, his voice muffled against her body. ‘I want to go to Seven Ways.’
Kate hid her surprise. ‘Why?’
In the dark, Tom sniffed. ‘I won’t miss Robert so much if I go away.’ The tears came in full flood now. ‘And I do–I miss him so much, Mother.’
Tears starting in her own eyes, Kate stroked the dark head. ‘Running away is not the answer, Tom,’ she said. ‘The pain does get better and soon you won’t miss him so much. It just takes a little time.’
‘It didn’t when Father died,’ Tom said, with a perception that made Kate’s heart miss a beat. ‘I used to hear you crying at night when I was in bed.’ He paused. ‘You don’t cry anymore. Not for Father.’ Tom gave a great shuddering sigh. ‘I miss Jonathan too.’
Kate had no platitudes for that pain. She felt it too keenly herself. She held her son closer as the last of his tears resolved into hiccups. Stroking his hair, she waited until the sounds subsided.
‘Do you really want to go to Seven Ways, Tom?’
‘Yes.’
‘We will talk about it in the morning.’
Long after Tom finally fell asleep in her arms, Kate lay awake staring into the unrelenting blackness of her bed canopy. The wakeful minutes dragged by, turning into long hours. The wind tore at the house, loosening a shutter on the window in her bedchamber. Kate listened to it swing loose and bang against the wall for a long time before she laid her son to one side and tore herself from the warm bed to secure it.
As she reached out into the dark, wild night to draw the shutter back, she thought she saw movement on the road. Shelooked again and her eyes did not deceive her. A dark horse with a rider crouched low against the rain turned off the road and came through the open gates into the courtyard. She closed her eyes and drew a quick breath, hardly daring to hope.
Stopping only to slip on some shoes and grab her cloak, Kate ran down the stairs and out into the night, heedless of the rain and the cold. The heavily cloaked rider had dismounted from the soaked horse that stood with its sides heaving and its head drooping with exhaustion.
‘Jonathan.’
The rider turned and held out a gloved hand. Kate fell into his arms, entwined in his embrace, afraid that if she let go he would vanish into the night.
‘It’s you? It’s really you? You’re not some phantom of the night?’ She found herself babbling as the rain tore through her inadequate cloak, plastering her hair to her skull. Her simple shift clung to her like a second skin.
‘Kate, enough. You’re soaked.’ Jonathan said at last.
‘I don’t care,’ she said, the edge of tears in her voice.
A light appeared in the stable and Dickon, half-dressed and bleary-eyed, held up a lantern and peered out of the door. His jaw dropped open in surprise.
‘Dickon. See to the horse.’ Jonathan handed over the reins and turned to Kate. ‘Now, you foolish wench, I’ll not be responsible for you dying of lung fever. Inside, now.’
He picked her up as if she weighed no more than a child and carried her into the house.
In the kitchen, Jonathan stoked up the fire while Kate wrapped herself in a blanket and tried to dry her hair that now hung in damp rat’s tails around her face. Her gaze did not move from him, even as he raided the larder for the last of the rabbit pie and a mug of ale. If she looked away he might vanish.
‘God’s death, how I’ve craved some decent food,’ Jonathan announced as he bit into the pie.
‘I can’t believe you’re here. I’m going to wake in a minute and find it is all a dream.’ Kate pulled her frozen feet up onto the oak settle and hugged her knees, her happiness radiating from her.
Jonathan smiled. ‘A fleeting visit only, Kate. I must be gone tomorrow.’
The smile faded from her face. ‘So soon?’
