The Forest - Edward Rutherfurd [131]
‘Why, Jonathan?’ Totton had asked. ‘You are not afraid of the dark, are you?’
‘No, Father.’ He had paused uncertainly. ‘Mother used to.’
Since then, Totton had come to say goodnight to his son most evenings. On his way up the stairs the merchant would try to think of something to say. Perhaps he might ask the boy what he had learned that day; or mention something of interest that had happened in the town. He would enter the room and stand quietly by the door looking down to where his son lay on his little bed.
And if Totton could think of nothing to say, Jonathan would just lie still for a moment and then murmur: ‘Thank you for coming to see me, Father. Goodnight.’
This evening, however, it was Jonathan who had been preparing something to say. He had been thinking about it all afternoon. So when his father’s quiet shadow appeared in the doorway and looked towards him without speaking, it was he who broke the silence. ‘Father.’
‘Yes, Jonathan.’
‘I don’t have to race with Seagull. I could go in your boat, if you prefer.’
His father did not reply for a little while. ‘It is not a question of what I prefer, Jonathan,’ Totton said at last. ‘You have made your choice.’
‘But I could change, Father.’
‘Really? I don’t think so.’ There was just a hint of coldness in the voice. ‘Besides, you have already promised your friend to go with him.’
The boy understood. He perceived that he had hurt his father, that now his father was hitting back with this quiet rejection. He was so sorry, now, that he had wounded him, and afraid, too, of losing his love; for his father was all he had. If only he did not make it so difficult.
‘He would understand, Father. I’d rather go in your boat.’
Not true, thought the merchant, but aloud he said: ‘You gave your word, Jonathan. You must keep it.’
And now came the other matter that had been on the boy’s mind. ‘Father, you remember at the salterns you told me that if I knew a secret I promised not to tell, that I must keep my promise?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well … If I tell you something and ask you to keep it a secret, but I don’t exactly tell you everything, because if I did, that would be giving away the other secret … Would that be all right?’
‘You want to tell me something?’
‘Yes.’
‘A secret?’
‘Between us, Father. Because you’re my father,’ he added hopefully.
‘I see. Very well.’
‘Well …’ Jonathan paused. ‘Father, I think you’re going to lose this race.’
‘Why?’
‘I can’t tell you.’
‘But you are sure of it?’
‘Pretty sure.’
‘There is nothing further you wish to say, Jonathan?’
‘No, Father.’
Totton was silent for a little while. Then his shadow began to recede and the door slowly closed.
‘Goodnight, Father,’ said Jonathan. But there was no reply.
The morning of the race was overcast. During the night the wind had turned and was now coming down from the north; but it seemed to Alan Seagull that it might yet change again. His canny eyes glanced out at the waters of the estuary. He wasn’t sure he liked the weather. One thing was certain: they would have a fast crossing to the island.
And after that? His eyes scanned the crowded quay. He was looking for someone.
Yesterday had been strange indeed. He had made bargains before, but never one so unexpected. Surprising though the business was, many things had been resolved.
One of these was the fate of young Jonathan.
The scene at the quay was lively. The whole of Lymington had gathered there. The two boats, moored by the waterside, were clearly contrasted. The Southampton vessel was not a full-size merchant ship but the more modest short sea-trader known as a hoy. Its size was forty tuns – which meant that in theory it could carry forty of the huge, two-hundred-and-fifty-gallon casks of wine that were then in use for the big shipments from