The Forest - Edward Rutherfurd [118]
Even his own modest family had taken part in that dangerous game of fortune. Totton had secretly been rather proud when his favourite uncle had become a follower of that most aristocratic adventurer of all, the Earl of Warwick who, because of his power to change the fortune of whichever side he joined, was known as the Kingmaker. ‘I’m a yeoman now,’ he had told Henry before setting off, ‘but I’ll come back a gentleman.’ Serving the mighty Kingmaker a man might indeed advance to a fortune. Nine years ago, however, just after Easter, the Forest had echoed with the news: ‘There’s been another battle. The Kingmaker’s slain. His widow’s come to Beaulieu seeking sanctuary.’ Henry’s favourite uncle had been killed, too, and Henry had been sorry. But he did not feel it as a tragedy, nor even as cruel fate. His uncle had made a bet and lost. That was all.
It was a cast of mind that kept him calm and even-tempered in adversity: a strength, on the whole though his wife had sometimes thought it made him cold.
So when Burrard had proposed the wager, he had calculated carefully.
‘I bet you, Henry,’ his friend had exclaimed, ‘that the next time you have a vessel going across, fully laden, to the Isle of Wight, I can run a laden boat against you and get back first.’
‘At least one of your ships is faster than anything I’ve got,’ Totton had stated.
‘I won’t run one of my own.’
‘Whose, then?’
Burrard considered a moment, then grinned. ‘I’ll run Seagull against you.’ He watched Totton, eyes gleaming.
‘Seagull?’ Totton frowned. He thought of his son and the mariner. He preferred to keep some distance between them. ‘I don’t want to have wagers with Seagull, Geoffrey.’
‘You aren’t. You know Seagull never bets anyway.’ Strangely enough, this was true. The sailor might have a devil-may-care attitude in most of his dealings with the world, but for some reason known only to himself he would never bet. ‘The wager’s with me, Henry. Just you and me.’ Burrard beamed. ‘Come on, Henry,’ he boomed affectionately.
Totton considered. Why was Burrard betting on Seagull? Did he know the relative speeds of the boats? Unlikely. Almost certainly he just had a hunch that Seagull was a cunning rascal who would somehow pull it off. He, on the other hand, had observed Seagull’s boat many times and had also taken careful note of the speed of a neat little vessel at Southampton in which he had recently acquired a quarter share. The Southampton vessel was definitely a little faster.
‘The bet is against Seagull’s vessel,’ he stated. ‘You have to persuade Seagull to make the crossing for you or the bet’s off.’
‘Agreed,’ his friend confirmed.
Totton nodded slowly. He was just weighing up the factors when young Jonathan appeared in the doorway. It might not be such a bad thing, he thought, for his son to see his hero the mariner lose a race. ‘Very well. Five pounds,’ he said.
‘Oh-ho! Henry!’ Burrard whooped, causing other faces in the place to turn in their direction. ‘That’s a big one.’ Five pounds was a large wager indeed.
‘Too rich for you?’ Totton asked.
‘No. No. I didn’t say that.’ Even Burrard’s cheerful face was looking a bit taken aback, though.
‘If you’d prefer not …’
‘Done. Five pounds!’ Burrard cried. ‘But you can buy me a drink, Henry, by God, for that.’
As young Jonathan advanced, it was obvious to the boy from all the faces round that, whatever it was, his father had