To Lie with Lions - Dorothy Dunnett [247]
Chapter 33
ROBIN OF BERECROFTS had little vanity – his father and grandfather had seen to that. But he had a sense of pride and of fairness, and he had to sacrifice both in order to stay at his post beside Jordan that day. There was no appeal. Even if the lord of Veere were not wholly deceived, the boy Henry was well born and his kinsman, and Robin was the page of a man who could have no love for Henry’s father.
His plan had been to stay with the child while it slept. Instead, curt words and raised eyebrows forced him out to the butts to help retrieve arrows, and to hold the pennants for the pony-racing that followed. The lords and their friends worked Robin hard, but the June sun was high in the sky, the pleasure-grounds were green and tree-shadowed and pleasant, and he would have borne them no grudge, had he not been aware of a growing unfriendliness, so that no matter how fast he pelted about, the shouts from the players became brusque and impatient. And as it developed, he watched Henry’s smile.
He learned to admire Henry. Young as he was, the boy must have trained long and hard with a master to attain such proficiency. He was also inherently gifted. He managed his horse, big for his years, with the grace and strength of someone much older, and his eye was razor-sharp.
Robin knew. The arrow that slightly missed its route pierced his skin by so fine a margin that, although he bled, he deserved no attention other than an irritated order to watch where he ran. It was Henry’s horse, alarmed by his presence, which reared and came down, shouldering him to the ground. And it was Henry who, almost winning a cast, had his aim put out by Robin’s sudden appearance and throwing, grazed Robin’s thigh with his lance before being dislodged by his horse from the saddle.
Ladies ran to the fallen boy’s aid, but Henry leaped to his feet and gallantly absolved Robin from all blame, while agreeing, limping over the grass, to take his ease for a while. The lady of Veere had emerged, with the children. Jordan, walking sedately with Pasque, saw his new sister and ran to her lap, where he sat, being courted with sweetmeats. Robin could hear his high voice, and see the ladies round him exclaiming and laughing. Henry smiled, showing one dimple.
Robin went to sit beside Jordan, but the lady of Veere wished to speak to him. Listening, he was advised that, being a boy among coarse-living men, he had not yet learned to conduct himself as gentlemen did, but should try and learn from example. He heard that it was positively atrocious that a youth of his years should attempt to strike a valuable animal and injure its rider, and moreover spread malicious tales of his host and his hostess and their guests. She wished him to know this, and to understand that she would take no severe action, provided the misconduct halted at once.
Robin bled, inside and out. Robin said, ‘My lady, anything I have done, I have done unknowingly, and out of ignorance. Please forgive my lack of skill. I would not harm you or yours, not for the world.’
The lady of Veere looked surprised, and her face softened a little. But when the meal was over, he found himself chivvied into the sports field again.
His lesions ached, but at least he knew now what to expect (or so he thought), and whatever Henry might do, he managed somehow to avoid him. The child Jordan played among the women and babies. It was only when the call came for golf that Robin felt the first breath of danger. Any game with a ball would attract Jodi.
The clubs came, and the heavy balls fashioned of wood. Robin took one, and gave it to Jodi. Henry strolled up and took it away. ‘Did you want a ball, Robin?’ he said. ‘I shall ask the lord of Veere to spare you one later. But really, we need them all now.’ He went off, and Jordan looked up, his lip trembling. Catherine kissed him. ‘Come and play with me instead.’ Then someone shouted for Robin, and he went.
They played rovers at first, hitting the ball from place to place: